BY COURTNEY NUGENT

Growing up, faith played no part in my home. By the grace of God, I had a wonderful grandmother who instilled the love of the Lord into my heart at a very early age. She took me to church on Sunday mornings and introduced me to the Bible and to Jesus Christ. She led by example rather than by preaching gospel, and used her life’s history as a shining model for forgiveness and second chances.

During my teenage years, my home life became filled with turmoil and I lost my spiritual path. I spent many years running from God, from organized religion, from any and all promises I had made as a child to live my life according to His teachings. I stopped praying, stopped admitting sins and asking for forgiveness. I became the independent ruler of my own life—stumbling through mistake after mistake.

As evolution dictates, over the years I changed. What was once the whimsical spirit of an innocent child transformed into an angry, hardened and beaten down shell of a young woman. Blame, resentment and spite engulfed my mind. The thought of forgiveness was so foreign to me, impossible and unattainable—for others and double for myself. I carried around guilt and shame for a lifetime of mistakes—some my own and some of my parents—that were never mine to carry to begin with. Like compounded interest, by the age of thirty I was at the lowest point of my life—weighed down by deep hurt, isolation, regret and personal failure. My soul was heavy and little light shined on my life.

But like the changing tide you can always count on, my life began to change. At the age of thirty, I gave birth to my amazing daughter, Olivia. During her first few months of life, I looked at her with such amazement and wonder—such unspeakable love. I realized that I had been blessed beyond all comprehension. For the first time since I was a child, I felt grace. The voice of God began to whisper in my ear, planting seeds of faith and calling me home.

By the time Olivia was six months old, I knew that something major had to change in my life if I was ever going to give her what she deserved. Shortly thereafter, I left her father; Olivia and I began life as a cohesive twosome. Over the next year, I grieved for the dissolution of what had been the most important relationship of my life, but slowly felt a peace I hadn’t felt in years.

I began to feel gratitude and to see blessings bestowed upon me. I felt compassion for those who had wronged me and I started to forgive, little by little. Around Olivia’s first birthday, I found my way back to church. I started praying, although I stumbled through this act many times before it felt comfortable. Many months went by and while I was reaching out in faith, I wasn’t feeling the divine reception I had been hoping for. Then, as divinely inspired as it could have been, my girlfriend extended the offer of introducing me to her church, Northview. By my third service, I knew that I had found my spiritual center—the place I could build a solid foundation of faith. I felt connected in a way I had never felt before.

Two short months later, I joined a Life Group and a few weeks after that, I went through the Prayer Experience. The day I wrote my burdens on that piece of luggage was the day of my spiritual awakening. That was my “come to Jesus” moment. I cried through the entire experience. When I set down that luggage, I truly released my burdens and I knew that I had to accept Jesus Christ as my personal savior! No, in that moment, I knew that Jesus Christ was my personal savior! I finally had found my way home.

Naturally, the only thing left to do was to actually be baptized—to take the physical step of solidifying my place in His kingdom through the symbolism of baptism. A few days later, when I heard about the baptism weekend, it was as if Jesus was speaking directly to me, answering a silent call, and I knew it was not just the right time—it was the perfect time.

I woke up the morning of my baptism and couldn’t stop crying, the tears just wouldn’t stop flowing. I heard a voice telling me to go and get my grandmother’s Bible, a Bible I have cherished since I was eleven years old but hadn’t opened since her death twelve years ago. I listened to this voice and opened her Bible, where she had written about her own baptism and how wonderful she felt. I then decided to thumb through the pages and the first passage I came to was a passage she had highlighted about Jesus’s baptism, Matthew 3:13-17. I read, “And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.’” All of a sudden I could hear her laugh. It was as if she was saying to me, “Go on, silly child, and be saved!” I knew in that moment that this day, my baptism, was divinely inspired, warranted, and ordained.

Since that day, I have felt such peace. I truly believe that I have been forgiven, that my savior has washed my soul clean and given me the most precious gift…the gift of life—of a second chance. I look forward to waking up every day, nurturing the grace He has given me, and spending the rest of my life walking in His love.