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How Childhood Trauma Impacts My Faith
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Sitting in the old, olive green theater seats where I had watched numerous plays as a child, I heard a voice call my name. Looking around at my high school friends, their heads bowed in prayer, I quietly asked what they wanted.
They all shook their heads and went back to their prayers. Closing my eyes, I again heard someone call my name. Before I realized it, I was on my feet, responding to the altar call that had followed a very loud and rambunctious youth rally.
I believe on that night God called me to Him. It’s a belief I have always clung to, and in hard moments I’ve reminded myself that God himself called my name.
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