I’ve spent most of my life running from my past. I’ve boxed up memories, thoughts, and things I felt too painful to face. And because of this, I lived in chains. Fear of the reminders. Anxiety about the memories. Avoidance of people, places, things that would spark the thoughts that brought pain. I was living, but I wasn’t living freely or fully. One of my top priorities was to live without accepting what had happened in my past. In denial, I could claim some sense of sanity. My past had become an idol of sorts. I would do anything to avoid it, even avoid God. And so when my past came knocking, as anything we run from eventually will, my faith suffered immensely. It was my sophomore year of college when all my running finally caught up with me. I was flooded with Continue Reading