I was raised in a christian home my entire life. We went to church every Sunday, morning and evening, as well as Wednesdays.
My mother spent most of her time on the piano bench and my father was the interim music minister for what ended up being years of my childhood.
We attended a small church that was beginning to die when I was just entering Junior High School. We started visiting other churches around that time and ended up becoming members at the church that we are at to this day.
I remember when we were in the beginning stages of visiting churches, my brother and I started attending the youth services on Wednesday evenings at another church in town. We went to a few retreats before we were actually members.
It's funny to me the random things that you remember, but I can recall a particular night when I had just gotten back from a retreat with this church. I went to the Sunday Evening service at my church and... I closed my eyes when I was worshipping.
Apparently I had never seen that at my dying church. It was new to me and I wanted to be a part of it. Whatever it was; the eye closing, raising your hand thing.
The church we were visiting was full of people, young people in their teens, who would raise their hands and close their eyes when they were focusing on worshipping Jesus.
So I stood there in my church, full of all the gray-haired mature members, and worshipped with my eyes closed. For the first time.
A sign to this day of the longing in my heart... to truly know Him and not just be safe.