From the time I was a young girl, my faith was something I took seriously. I loved learning about this incredible God of the Bible that loved me in my sin, so much so He sent His own son to take my place in death. I loved reading that He is alive and that He works everything for my good and His glory. And I loved the realization that the pages of Scripture I read were God-breathed and alive, applicable to my day-to-day life. I believed all of it.

Or so I thought.

Then freshman year of college happened. And along with the regular ups and downs that come with freshman year, it was the most stressful year my family had ever experienced.