We all have something embarrassing in our pasts. All. Of. Us. Even though I like to believe that everyone else around me grew up in a charmed household, it’s simply not true. There’s always something from your past that embarrasses you or causes you to feel shame or you try to keep hidden from the rest of the world. It’s just human nature.

For me, it was the fact that I wasn’t allowed to listen to anything but Christian music throughout my childhood.

Listening to Christian music is so ingrained in me that it’s only been in the last few years that I’ve felt comfortable turning on the “secular” radio station when I’m in the car with my mom.

But Christian music is what I grew up on. Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman, Amy Grant, Carmen, Rachael Lampa, Stacie Orrico, Jaci Velasquez, Plus One, Audio Adrenaline, dc Talk, Newsboys… this is what I listened to. This is all we listened to in my house. (Well, excluding my father who didn’t believe in God and tried to get me to love classic rock as much as he did… but I just wasn’t into it.)

I mean, of course, once my brother and I grew a little older, we sneaked in our secular music. I was partial, as all 90s girls were, to NSYNC and Britney and Christina and Backstreet Boys, but I knew in my heart that was not the kind of music a “good Christian girl” listened to, so I tried to hide it and remember throwing away my Christian Aguilera self-titled album in front of my mom to show her what a good little Christian I was.

And it wasn’t just Christian music that I consumed, but I also tried to stay away from specific movies and TV shows. And most of the books I read from the time I was a teenager until my early twenties were Christian books. In fact, I remember how much I struggled with feelings of guilt and shame when I would pick up a Harlequin romance, scurrying to the back of the library where they kept all of those paperbacks with the purple spines and silly titles and surreptitiously picking out a few romances to read. And then secretly reading them, feeling guilty, and telling myself that I would only read Christian fiction from here on out. Until I found myself, once again, at the back of the library, looking at those naughty-to-me romances.

And so it was this part of my life that always felt vastly different from my peers, especially during middle school and high school. Those are the times in your life when you need to connect with your friends more than ever, and I always felt a little different. Even my church friends (who I was never especially close to anyway) seemed to have a better grasp on pop culture than I did. They could listen to secular music and go to concerts and do all the things the so-called normal kids were doing. Me? I was different. Life for me was different.

For me, Christian music is what I grew up on, Christian music is what I love and what brings me the most peace, and, honestly, Christian music is still my favorite genre. It feels super vulnerable to admit that and to tell the world that I just really want to jam out to Chris Tomlin or Matthew West or Tenth Avenue North when I’m in my car, not Taylor Swift or Demi Lovato or Bruno Mars. It’s not cool, you know? It wasn’t even cool when I was growing up and surrounded by my church friends. And I was obsessed with trying to be cool when I was in my teens, even though I always failed miserably.

Sometime last year, I looked at my main Spotify playlist and realized it was filled with Christian music and I started to feel weird about it. Not because I didn’t love the music, but because I didn’t know if I truly believed in the message behind the words. A few years ago, I would have never questioned the message of my favorite Christian songs, but here I am now, wondering what faith means to me and if it’s authentic to be listening to Christian music. Because even though it brings me great joy and immense peace, do I even deserve that if I’m not sure if I believe in religion anymore?

And then a podcast entered my life. Specifically Good Christian Fun. Honestly, I didn’t know how much I needed this podcast in my life. The premise of this show is that they discuss one piece of Christian pop culture with each episode, whether that be a Christian movie like Fireproof or a Christian artist like Rebecca St. James. Basically, it’s my childhood in a nutshell and it’s so gratifying to relate so well to a podcast. To feel heard. To feel understood. Additionally, every week they bring on a guest to discuss the subject matter with them, and before any discussion happens, the guest gives them their “guestimony” (guest + testimony) to talk about their faith background and where they are at with their faith today. It is these segments that have helped me to realize that struggling to come to terms with the religion I was raised in and what I believe in now is just a part of the growing-up process.

But it’s not just the guestimonies that feel so relatable, but also learning about the guest’s relationship to Christian and mainstream pop culture. One time they had a guest one who talked about how jealous she was of her friends who got to listen to secular music and go to concerts. Yes, yes, yes. I’m not the only one. It’s not just me who felt different from my peers. There are people who had the same upbringing as me, with parents (in my case, a parent) that was super strict with the type of media their children consumed and there was no questioning it.

Look, I don’t want to make my mom out to be a bad person because she wasn’t and I don’t feel like I missed out on anything just because I never went to an NSYNC concert. I’m not that much of an entitled brat. It was more of the fact that I couldn’t relate to my friends than it was of rebelling against my mom’s rules. I never really rebelled against them because I liked Christian music and books. I really did! I still enjoy Christian music and read the odd nonfiction Christian book every now and then.

And truthfully, I was so, so lucky to have a mother who cared about me so deeply that she closely monitored what I was consuming. I remember our conversations about the songs Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera were singing, conversations that I remember scoffing at when I was a dumb 11-year-old, but now I can see the love and devotion in them. She wanted me to consume music that had the “right” message (which is subjective, I know), and she went to great lengths to help me understand the benefits of Christian music over pop music.

Good Christian Fun has truly been instrumental in helping me come to terms with my affinity for Christian pop culture, and especially my love for Christian music. It’s something that always used to embarrass me because I could never give a good answer to “who’s your favorite band?” and was always self-conscious about my “goody two-shoes Christian girl” answer. But there’s no use in being embarrassed about what we like, is there? So what if I enjoy Christian music more than mainstream pop? So what if I’m still trying to figure out what my faith means, even while singing along to a Chris Tomlin worship song? All that really matters is that we figure out what makes us feel good and at peace, no matter how other people may judge us for it.

Judge away. I’ll be over here dancing in my kitchen to Plus One’s debut album and laughing at all of the memories these songs bring up for me.

If you haven’t been reading my blog for very long, you might be surprised to know that this blog used to be very heavily focused on my faith. Back then, I wrote about my faith on a weekly basis, but I can’t remember the last time I wrote about it. It’s been a few years at least.

And the answer as to why I haven’t written about my faith is a simple one: I’ve been wrestling with what faith means to me, if I even believe in God, and how Christians are viewed in this culture today.

I should start from the beginning. Settle in, my friends. This is going to be a ride.

I grew up in a Pentecostal church. If you don’t know what that means, basically I grew up thinking someone interrupting a church service to “speak in tongues” was totally normal. I grew up thinking everyone danced in the aisles and front of the church during worship. I grew up thinking I wasn’t “saved” enough if I wasn’t slain in the Spirit whenever a pastor prayed over me. (“Slain in the Spirit” basically means falling to the ground because you’re so overcome by the power of the Holy Spirit; or, if you’re me, it’s because you don’t want to be seen as “unholy” so you fall down by your own power.)

My grandparents were the pastors of my children’s church, and so we faithfully attended church every Sunday morning. We also typically attended church on Sunday night and Wednesday night. That was my life throughout my entire childhood and most of my teenage years. It’s important to note here that my dad never attended church with my mom, my brother, and me. He did not believe he needed church to be a Christian, which is true, but I’m not so sure he is/was a Christian. Mostly because of the way he used to make fun of my mom for attending church. So I had that dichotomy: my mom, a strong Christian woman who took us to church, and my dad, a nonbeliever who made fun of everything that had to do with Christianity.

In retrospect, my dad’s bullying ways are probably what led me to become an even stronger Christian. And, in truth, having my faith helped me through some of my more troubling years of childhood when my dad was at his worst. There’s something comforting about faith when times are tough.

My faith was a huge part of my identity from the time I was young and throughout my early twenties. I was fully invested in everything the church preached: I didn’t curse, dressed modestly, believed sex outside of marriage was sinful, didn’t listen to secular music or read books that didn’t have Christian themes. I wore a “True Love Waits” ring on my left ring finger for years and felt pride in the fact that I had never “given up my special gift” for some random guy. I was highly judgmental of people who didn’t follow the Christian faith. I believed that the only path to happiness was by being a believer. I didn’t believe in gay rights and was staunchly pro-life.

It’s comical to write all of this out, honestly, because it reminds me of a time when I was deeply unhappy. I wasn’t stretching myself and trying to find different viewpoints. I was stuck in a white conservative Christian bubble where things were strictly black and white. Gray areas did not exist.

So, what shifted? Because it’s obvious that I don’t necessarily prescribe to this same set of beliefs anymore. I’m more liberal, for one thing, and I can honestly say that it was the actions of Christians in my circle and the way they so easily supported Donald Trump for president that pushed me over the edge.

But truthfully, I was nearing that edge way before then.

I quickly became disenchanted with the church in my mid-twenties. It started when I tried joining church groups and was ignored. It’s always my worst nightmare – to push myself outside my comfort zone and join a social group alone, only to be completely ignored the entire time I’m there. I didn’t know about my introversion and social anxiety before then, so I thought it was just me. I thought I was good enough for the church. I wasn’t holy enough or friendly enough or pretty enough or skinny enough. And when this happened over and over again, it was easy to believe it was me and not them.

That’s when the cracks in my faith started to appear.

After not finding a place in my church, I started attending church less and less and subsequently, started to read my bible and pray less and less. I was still a believer. I still yearned for God, but it was less important to me. I didn’t think I was holy enough for Him.

And that’s when I really started to examine my faith and what it meant to me. What does being a Christian mean to me, personally? Do I even really want this life?

Every time I opened my bible, my guilt jumped out at me. There was just something about being told, over and over again, that I am a sinner and the only way to make up for my sinful nature is to believe in God that started rubbing me the wrong way. I couldn’t get away from this idea that I am a sinner, I have always been a sinner, and I will always be a sinner. This is really the basic tenant of Christianity, and it seemed like every time I opened my bible, I would learn about a different way I was a sinner and needed God.

Every time I did something that went against the faith, I felt an enormous amount of guilt. It could be as simple as reading a romance novel or as massive as masturbating (yes, I’m getting really real here). The guilt followed me everywhere and I honestly believed I was the only one who wrestled with my faith like this.

I’m not, of course. It’s the simple truth of the faith journey is that we all battle against our “sinful nature,” but what if… I just didn’t have to battle anymore? What if I just let myself do the things I wanted to do – things that, mind you, aren’t hurting anyone and actually bring me great pleasure – without the guilt I always attached to them?

It’s a question that followed me for years. There wasn’t a light bulb moment where I just stopped battling against my faith. It was gradual. I stopped attending church. I stopped reading my bible. I stopped reading Christian fiction. I stopped listening to Christian music. I stopped praying.

Gradually, I stopped battling against my faith. I just began to live my life without the guilt. It was freeing in the way my faith never was.

And then the 2016 presidential election happened and I saw Christians throw their support for a man who went against everything I thought they believed in. A man who bragged about sexual assault and didn’t believe in helping those less fortunate and made misogynistic comments about his opponent and other women. A man who wasn’t faithful to his wives. A man who said terrible things about other people. That is who you want to support?

It was the beginning of the end for me. I couldn’t reconcile my faith with the way the Christian community was behaving. If that is what it meant to be a Christian, I didn’t want any part of it.

So what’s the state of my faith today? The truth is, I don’t really know.

My faith looks nothing like it did when I was growing up. Even still, I take so much comfort in faith, in bible stories, in hymns, in sermons. I believe that God exists, but that He takes different forms for everyone and it’s not my job to judge that. I miss being a part of a church family, but I’ve been burned so many times by the church that I’m not sure I have it in me to try again, even with a church that ascribes to my beliefs. There’s also the fact that I have social anxiety and joining a new church is downright terrifying for me.

But also, I don’t want my faith to be a defining part of who I am. For most of my childhood, it was my main identifier and it’s really hard when your main identifying characteristic is something you’re actually bad at. And something that makes you feel guilty nearly all the time.

At my core, I’m not a Christian. I’m just a woman who is trying her best to be a good person. And not a good person because of my Christianity, but a good person because it’s the right thing to be. A woman who tries to fight an administration that doesn’t embody any of Christ’s teachings. A woman who tries to help out those in need as much as she can, accept everyone as they are, and keep her mind open to differing viewpoints.

My faith today is less about guilt and trying to live up to the impossible standards of the perfect Christian woman. My faith today is to simply be the best me I can be. To honor my needs, to love people where they are, and to live in a way that makes me proud.