Growing up, my life was deeply rooted in faith. Honesty, compassion, humility and a sense of purpose weren’t just ideals—they were the guiding principles instilled in me from an early age. These values became a solid foundation for how I approached the world but they also served as a lens through which I viewed and judged everything around me. At school, where peer culture often celebrated independence, experimentation and sometimes outright rebellion, it often felt like I was living in two completely different worlds.

My upbringing meant I spent a lot of time at church. Sundays were for worship, Wednesdays were for youth group and sometimes Fridays and Saturdays brought a different church’s schedule or visiting family friends we made through church or visiting family. It wasn’t just about attending—it was about immersion. Going to church became a second home, shaping how I understood life, relationships and purpose. While I valued the lessons and the community it also made the contrast with the world outside even sharper.

At school, I watched my friends take risks and embrace behaviors I was taught to avoid. Parties, dating casually or even their more relaxed attitudes toward truthfulness and respect for authority, I don’t know, it was a stark difference from what I was used to. Sometimes it felt like I was on the sidelines, quietly observing and questioning myself:

  • Am I missing out?

  • Why is what I believe so different from what they practice?

  • How do I stand firm without alienating myself?

One of the hardest parts of growing up with a different moral code was the natural curiosity about the life my friends were living. Watching them navigate freedoms and experiences that were off-limits for me stirred a mix of emotions—curiosity, envy, confusion and sometimes resentment.

I’ll admit that there were moments when I romanticized their world. They seemed carefree, living without the weight of the rules and expectations that defined my own life. I wondered what it would be like to say “yes” to the things they did without the fear of disappointing my family, my church or even God.

But over time, I started to notice the other side of their experiences—the heartbreak, the drama and the struggles that often came with the choices they made. It reinforced the value of the principles I had grown up with. Even so, I longed for a middle ground, a way to navigate my life without feeling like I was constantly at odds with the world around me.

Perhaps the hardest part of it all was the sense of not quite fitting in. It wasn’t just about declining invitations to parties or feeling out of place when conversations turned to things I couldn’t relate to. It was the deeper awareness that my life was operating on a different rhythm, shaped by spiritual convictions that weren’t shared by most of the people around me.

That divide often led to moments of loneliness and self-doubt. I questioned why my faith demanded sacrifices and why standing firm in my beliefs sometimes felt like an uphill battle that I was fighting alone. There were times when I felt frustrated—wishing I could blend in more easily even if just for a moment.

I made mistakes, trust me, plenty of them. I tested the boundaries I was taught to stay within and I didn’t always make the right choices. There were times I ignored my values to fit in or out of sheer curiosity. But after making the same mistakes a few times, I started to see the patterns and the consequences. Those experiences taught me that mistakes are part of growth. You learn, you get better and you start to approach life with a clearer understanding of what truly matters.

Looking back, I can see how that tension refined me. It taught me resilience to stand firm in what I believe even when it wasn’t popular or easy. It helped me develop discernment to know when to adapt and when to hold my ground. And perhaps most importantly, it fostered empathy. I realized that everyone, whether they shared my faith or not, was grappling with their own struggles, questions and challenges.

Over time, I began to forge an identity that drew from both worlds. My faith gave me purpose and direction while my interactions with others taught me to appreciate the diversity of experiences that existed outside my upbringing. What once felt like barriers became bridges to understanding, growth and connection.

Growing up in faith didn’t mean rejecting everything outside of it. In my experience, it meant learning to take what was good and meaningful from other perspectives while staying true to my core beliefs. The struggle to belong, to reconcile and to stand firm wasn’t easy but it shaped me into someone who could navigate both worlds with clarity and purpose.

I like to believe my faith shaped not only how I approach life’s challenges but also the kind of person I want to be. Through these experiences, both in church and in my general life with people outside of my faith, I continue to find a foundation strong enough to carry me no matter where life takes me. I’m deeply grateful to have been brought up in a lifestyle where faith wasn’t just for show but was lived out in a meaningful and authentic way. That grounding has given me a sense of purpose and direction, shaping my values and inspiring me to live with intention and integrity.