I grew up in a "good Christian home." Yes we attended church regularly. Yes we said grace before meals. Christmas and Easter were special times for us--always the spiritual side (Jesus' birth and death) played parts in those events. Yet I always felt there had to be, as is said, more to being a Christian than all of this.
I hit my teens and found myself drawn to a Christian summer camp in the area. There I found for the first time people who actually KNEW the Lord--not just some pie in the sky by and by lip service to an ideal. Here I met people who understood it's not a religion, it's a RELATIONSHIP with a very real, living Person: Jesus Christ, God's Son.
For a while, God was very real to me. Then stress piled on stress; life handed me lemons and I couldn't make lemonade no matter how I tried. There was a long period of searching, of dabbling with the occult, crystals and the like. Still I felt empty. At the very lowest point, a friend led me back to God's loving arms. I had finally learned that when God seems far away, it is NEVER He who has moved.
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