Personal Narrative: Growing Up Christianity

Growing up Christianity had always been part of my life and there was no question about it. My family was christian and the culture that my parents grew up in was heavily religious. However, I personally never had a true connection to Christ at a young age. To me church was the place I went to answer questions in Sunday School and win prizes for it, and that was how I saw it for a long time. It was hard for me to see it has more than that and from the outside I may have looked like the kid had a true connection with Christ by the way I talked in front of the church when my class presented, or the fact that I was able to answer most if not all the questions correctly. As a kid, I thought that made sense and that there was nothing wrong because

It was pretty simple growing up do this and do not do that, and to me life seemed so simple. Until. I had to grow up and started thinking on my own. As I began to experience people outside of my culture and outside of what I was used to I realized that maybe not everyone is christian after all, and that with the changing influences around me if I wanted to make Christianity a priority in my life I had to make something of my own. However, at a young age and just wanting to make friends I brushed that off and continued with my life, and has I grew up things in life got tougher, with the Haiti Earthquake many questions arose about the health of my family and our loved ones. In the midst of all that there were health issues here and there with any given family member. However, even then it was hard for me fully look to God to help me through the issues, because the issues seemed to fix

My life was great and I did not feel anything wrong in my life. Until my freshman year in high school, around April my grandfather had been admitted to the hospital and that had been the third time in the row in the span of a few months. I did not know how to feel, and I did not know if I should have felt sorrow or been strong because he was the strongest person I knew and I knew he would get through it. My family had prayers here and there, so I took part in them because I was asked not because I felt as though I needed to. Then around the mid-terms of sophomore year my grandmother after a trip to Haiti came back and she was admitted into the hospital. That day, I could not function and I could not do anything. I felt helpless and useless. During that time, I was outward about the situation and I was grateful for all those who reached out to check on me and gave me advice. Most suggested that I just pray, so I did and I waited for the results. When we received the diagnostic it was a better result than what we had anticipated. So everyday I prayed for her to get through it and eventually she did. So on that day, I began to realize the power of prayer and asking for God’s help. Fast-forward to April break of Sophomore year, my grandfather is taken to the hospital in an ambulance, because he was essentially unconscious. At this rate,