My Story: Still Becoming

Read time: 7 minutes

I grew up in a Christian home and came to know Jesus when I was very young—probably around five years old. Faith was always part of my life. I went to church, learned the Bible stories, and knew that Jesus loved me.

But as I grew older, I began to understand that being raised in a Christian home was not the same as developing my own relationship with God. At some point, my faith had to become personal. I had to learn who God was for myself and discover what it meant to trust Him with my own life.

My story includes many things I am grateful for, but it also includes experiences I never would have chosen. When I was in junior high, I was sexually abused. I did not fully understand then how deeply that experience would affect me. It influenced the way I saw myself and left me struggling with questions about my worth and value.

For a long time, I carried wounds I did not know how to name. I learned how to keep going, even when parts of me were hurting.

When I left home at eighteen, something began to change. For the first time, I had the space to begin discovering who I was apart from my family, my past, and what other people expected of me. My relationship with God began becoming my own.

I wish I could say I immediately understood my identity in Christ and never questioned it again, but that would not be true. Learning who I am in Christ has been a slow process. God has patiently shown me that my value is not determined by what happened to me, how someone else treated me, or how well I can hold everything together.

I belong to Him. That is where my worth begins.

The years that followed brought marriage, motherhood, health struggles, spiritual dryness, and eventually divorce. Each season shaped me in a different way.

During my first marriage, I prayed desperately for God to heal what was broken. I believed that if I prayed long enough, remained faithful enough, and kept trying, something would eventually change.

But it didn’t.

That was very difficult for me to accept. I had to face the painful truth that I could not make another person choose differently. I could pray for God to work in his heart, but I could not control how he responded.

Walking through divorce became another turning point in my relationship with God. It was not the answer I had prayed for, and it was certainly not the life I had imagined for myself. I had to learn how to trust God while grieving what I had lost.

I also had to learn that the end of my marriage did not mean the end of my worth. My identity was not found in whether I could save a relationship or keep my life from falling apart. My identity still belonged in Christ.

I would love to tell you that healing happened quickly after that, but it didn’t. Healing has been slow, and in many ways, it is still happening.

God also brought hope into my life through my second marriage. After experiencing so much brokenness, I began to see more clearly what marriage can look like when two people are committed to Christ and willing to love one another with humility, faithfulness, and grace.

Our marriage is not perfect, and neither are we. But it has given me a healthier picture of what marriage can look like when two people are committed to Christ and willing to love one another with honesty, humility, faithfulness, and grace.

My husband did not heal every wound from my past—that is a weight no person was meant to carry. But God has used his love and the safety of our marriage as part of my healing. Through this relationship, He has reminded me that brokenness does not have to be the end of the story and that hope can grow again in places that once held so much pain.

There are places where God has brought freedom and helped me see things more clearly. There are other places where I am still learning to recognize old wounds and the lies attached to them. Sometimes I make progress, and sometimes something I thought I had already worked through rises to the surface again.

I’ve learned not to see that as failure. God is patient with me, and I am learning to be patient with myself.

Looking back, some of the deepest spiritual growth in my life has happened quietly. It has happened during ordinary mornings with my Bible, through prayers that were not eloquent, and in moments when trusting God felt more like a choice than a feeling.

Psalm 46:1–2 has reminded me again and again that God remains steady when everything else feels uncertain:

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea” (ESV)

I have always had a desire to share my faith, especially with other women. Maybe that is because I know what it feels like to be hurting while trying to appear strong. I know what it is like to feel spiritually tired, ashamed, discouraged, or unsure of your worth. I also know how easy it is to believe that God can only use us after we have everything figured out.

But I don’t have everything figured out.

I am still healing. I am still learning. I am still discovering places where I need to trust God more deeply. And I think that is part of why The Becoming Life means so much to me.

After carrying the desire to encourage women for many years, I began to sense God asking me to take a step of obedience and create a place where I could share what He had taught me.

That yes became The Becoming Life.

I chose that name because it reflects what God has shown me through my own life: we are all still becoming.

Becoming more rooted in God’s Word. Learning to see ourselves through the truth of Scripture instead of through our wounds. Trusting God in seasons we would not have chosen. Allowing Him to shape us slowly, often through ordinary moments that do not seem significant at the time.

This is not about becoming a perfect version of ourselves. It is about becoming more like Jesus.

Hebrews 4:16 is another verse that has anchored me:

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (ESV)

I love that this verse does not tell us to wait until we feel stronger or have ourselves together before coming to God. Because of Jesus, we can come as we are. We can bring Him the questions we are afraid to ask, the pain we are still trying to understand, and the parts of our stories that do not have tidy endings.

We find mercy there. We find grace for the places where we need Him most.

If you have found your way here because you feel tired, discouraged, spiritually stuck, or unsure of your worth, I hope you will find something that reminds you there is still hope.

What happened to you matters, but it does not get the final word about who you are. Healing may be taking longer than you expected. Your faith may feel quieter than it once did. You may still have questions you cannot answer.

That does not mean God has forgotten you.

I am not here as someone who has mastered every lesson or completed every part of her healing. I am here as a woman who has needed God’s grace in every season and is still learning what it means to trust Him.

My hope for The Becoming Life is that it will be a place where we can be honest about what hurts without losing sight of what is true. A place where women can grow in their knowledge of God, become rooted in His Word, and learn to live from the identity they have in Christ.

We are still learning. Still healing. Still growing.

We are still becoming.

I’m so glad you’re here.