How College Strengthened My Faith

Before college, I grew up in a Christian household. We went to church on Sundays and prayed before family dinners. I went to Sunday school and was always told to say my prayers before bed. . 

I grew up in a predominantly Christian area where it felt safe to assume that most people you met identified as Christian too. At least, that’s what I assumed at the time.

All of this felt good. Comfortable, even. But I was missing some things that mattered more than routine: actual trust in God, a real relationship with the Holy Spirit, and conviction.

I was perfectly content being lukewarm. In fact, I thought openly devout Christians were a little dramatic. The ones who spoke boldly about their faith made me uncomfortable—not because I disagreed with them, but because I didn’t feel what they seemed so sure of. My faith fit neatly into my life. It didn’t disrupt anything. And at the time, that felt like success.

Things changed during my first semester of college.

When I went to college, I didn’t just have to adjust to college life—I  also had to adjust to moving to a new area. I grew up in rural West Virginia, but college took me to New York City. 

I knew, at least intellectually, that not everyone around me would share my faith background. What I didn’t anticipate was that none of my friends would be Christian, or religious at all.

I remember the first time someone asked me if I was Christian. I said, “Yeah, kind of.”

I remember thinking, “Why did I say that?”

I fully believed in God. I believed He sent His Son to die for our sins so that we could dwell with Him for eternity. I didn’t doubt the theology for a second. And yet, when asked to name my faith out loud, I softened it. I made it smaller. That moment stayed with me. It was one of the first times I felt real conviction.

For the first several months of college, I didn’t go to church at all. 

It wasn’t an obligation anymore, now that I lived on my own. I wanted to sleep in on Sundays, and I didn’t want to go to church alone. More importantly, I didn’t want to confront my sins or confront myself. 

But after that small, uncomfortable pang of conviction, something changed. I reached out to a friend of a cousin who I knew went to school in New York and had found a church she loved.

The first time I went to church by myself—no family herding me out the door, fighting sleep through the sermon, or sitting in the same back pew—I felt completely out of place. But I also felt  completely awake.

This church was different. People lifted their hands when they worshiped. Others came alone, all the time. And people prayed over you. I don’t know what exactly led me to do it, but I went up to the altar, somethiong I ‘d never done that before. And I just cried.

That was the moment everything shifted. 

My faith stopped being something I inherited and became something I chose. And it’ssomething I choose today, every single day.

A year later, I can confidently say that my college friends know I’m a Christian. College ministry nights have turned into the highlight of my week. I’ve found a Christian community—mentors, leaders, and peers—who have woven themselves into my life so naturally that I can hardly  remember  managing without them.

No one  forces me to read my Bible every night,keep a prayer journal, or  start a Bible study on campus.But I did those things, anyway. 

For the first time, my faith feels self-directed. Chosen. Lived.

The community my church offered me through its college ministry changed the way I move through campus and life. I keep thinking  how easily I could have missed it. If I hadn’t happened to know someone who went to that church, I might never have found that space at all.

So now, I want to help build it. For people like me as a freshman—for the version of myself who said “yeah, kind of” when asked what she believed. 

Growing in my faith over the past year hasn’t made my life easier or simpler. But it has made it steadier. And that’s something I want to pass on.

Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash