Remembering My Roots, Rewriting My Faith: A Journey Back to Me

Rooted in Tradition

I was raised under Southern Baptist traditions. The matriarchs of my family—my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and even her mother—were all born and raised in Mississippi and brought up in the deep roots of Southern Baptist faith.

My great-grandmother didn’t finish high school. She was forced to drop out after getting pregnant at an early age—with my grandmother. But later in life, she went back and earned her GED in general studies. She also received a certification in Divination, which gave her the spiritual foundation to share the word of God in alignment with her Southern Baptist beliefs.

Some of my earliest memories—between the ages of 1 to 4—were spent in Jackson, Mississippi. I remember vividly the Sundays we’d spend in the nursing home where my great-grandmother started her own congregation. Wednesdays were Bible study, and Sundays she delivered a word. I was always surrounded by her voice, her conviction, and the musicians and singers she invited to be part of that sacred experience.

While my great-grandmother stayed in Jackson, my grandmother moved to Minneapolis with my mother and her siblings in search of better opportunities and education. She brought her Southern Baptist traditions with her and stayed rooted in them. My mom held onto those beliefs too, but as she got older and work responsibilities took over, she couldn’t always make it to church. Still, she carried the faith inside her.

Growing up, I’d sometimes go to church with my grandmother when I spent weekends with her—but that wasn’t every weekend. At home with my mom and siblings, church wasn’t a consistent part of our routine. The faith was present, but the structure wasn’t. It wasn’t something that was actively passed down or reinforced every day—it just existed quietly in the background.

Because of that, I never really developed the same secure relationship with faith that my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother had. I believed in God—a God—but I wasn’t sure how that belief fit into my reality. I remember being around 17 or 18, trying to find that connection again. I went to a church service thinking maybe it would awaken something familiar, something from my early years in Jackson. But it didn’t. The message didn’t resonate, and the connection didn’t click.

I guess I just moved through life with a quiet belief—believing in something, just not knowing exactly what it meant for me personally.

Becoming Me in Silence

In my teenage years, like most, I was navigating the chaos of puberty—but there was more to it for me. I had always known I was attracted to the same sex. I had feelings for boys early on, and growing up as a millennial with deep Southern Baptist roots, I knew right away—it wasn’t allowed.

I remember hearing negative things about being gay from family, from church, from the world around me. So, I did what many of us did. I suppressed it. I buried my truth under layers of silence and shame. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hide from who I was. Eventually, I stopped fighting it and accepted the truth: I was attracted to men. That was my truth then, and it still is now.

Still, I crafted a dual life. One that honored who I was in private, and one that stayed hidden from my family—especially my mother. I always had the feeling she knew I was gay. But it became one of those unspoken truths between us. We talked about everything—everything—except that. When it came to my dating life, it was completely off-limits.

Out of respect for her beliefs, I made a conscious decision not to bring it up. I knew her values didn’t fully align with who I was, and I didn’t want to create friction or disappointment. At the time, I didn’t even have my own beliefs fully formed—I just knew that I believed in love. That everyone should be able to love who they love. Period.

Even though I had that belief, I still didn’t have a strong connection to faith or God. I believed in a God, yes—but God didn’t yet have a shape or a presence in my life. It was more of a distant idea than a real relationship. And that’s where I stood for a long time—believing in something bigger than me, but not feeling like I was truly a part of it.

Freedom, Faith, and Finding Myself

When I first moved out to Los Angeles at 27, I felt free. There was this fresh breath of air, a space to finally explore and create the identity that felt true to me. No one back home holding me back, no expectations to live up to. Just me, 1,500 miles away from everything I knew, ready to start over.

I came to L.A. to pursue my dream of acting—but what I didn’t realize was that I was also stepping into a deeper journey: discovering myself, my own truth, and eventually, my own belief system.

A lot of the actors in my circle were attending a popular church on Sundays. I felt drawn to it—maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of hope. So I went. I sat in the pews, I listened, I tried to let it in. But still, something didn’t click. I wanted it to, I really did. But it felt like something was being pushed on me, and not something I was choosing for myself. That realization hit hard. I wanted to believe. I just didn’t know how.

It was during that time I heard the passage: “Faith without works is dead.” And something about it stuck. It spoke to the part of me that was still searching. The part that knew I needed to do something, not just wait for it to fall into place.

The Algorithm of Alignment

Then came 2020—the pandemic. The world hit pause, and I knew right away: This was going to be my moment. I’d always been someone who loved personal development, and I made a promise to myself that I would use this time to go inward. To reflect. To grow.

YouTube became a sacred space. The algorithm felt divinely curated. Videos would pop up that instantly resonated with where I was and what I needed. Each one seemed to offer a piece of the puzzle I didn’t even know I was trying to solve.

Around that same time, I started watching Vikings on Netflix. What I thought would be simple entertainment ended up shaking something loose inside of me. Through the show, I became curious about the foundations of different religions—how belief systems were born, how they evolved, and what truth lived beneath them all.

I found myself studying everything—paganism, Christianity, Buddhism, Norse mythology, Islamic mysticism, shamanism. I wasn’t drawn to just one. I was drawn to all of it. I could feel the Divine in every story, every tradition, every path. And I began to believe that maybe they all came from the same source.

Opening the Door to Meditation

That exploration led me to meditation—a practice rooted in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism. I didn’t have a teacher or a guide. I just followed my curiosity and started learning how meditation could quiet the mind and bring me back to myself.

What I discovered was powerful: meditation wasn’t just about silence. It was about awareness. It gave me space to clear out the noise, the doubt, the shame. It helped me strip away what wasn’t mine and get closer to what was. It became my way of listening to God, to the universe, and to myself.

A Faith of My Own

The more I explored, the more I realized: I wasn’t lost. I was expanding.

I still carry the roots of Christianity within me, but I’m no longer defined by a single path. My spirituality is a blend of everything that resonates with me. My faith is an open system—fluid, curious, and inclusive.

I created a belief system that honors where I come from and who I’ve become. One that sees the Divine in meditation, in ritual, in movement, in silence, in love. Especially in unconditional love.

Because that’s really what I was chasing all along—unconditional love. A love that embraces you whether you’re gay, whether you fall in love with someone of a different race, whether you live outside of what tradition deems “acceptable.” That kind of love doesn’t come with restrictions. That kind of love is God. And that is what I believe in.

Faith in Motion

The space I’m in now finally makes sense.

That phrase—“Faith without works is dead”—I understand it now. I feel it. Through deep inner work and reflection, I’ve learned how to live my faith—not just believe in it. I’ve come to recognize how God has always been connected to me—both within and around me. My internal and external worlds are no longer separate. They reflect and support one another.

What started as a strong, rooted belief passed down by the matriarchs of my family has now unfolded into something even greater. Their faith laid the foundation. And now, I get to continue that legacy—keeping both the tradition and the elevation alive.

This is how my beliefs were created. And at the core of all of this—my journey, my expansion, my evolving faith—was a deep, soul-level desire to experience unconditional love.

What I’ve come to understand is that faith was the bridge. Not just the kind I was raised with, but the kind I had to activate within myself.

When I started aligning with my truth—my identity, my desires, my energy—I unlocked a new level of connection to my higher self. That’s when the manifestations became more than wishful thinking. That’s when purpose became clear. That’s when alignment stopped being an idea and became a way of being.

Call to Reflection

So now, I want to turn this reflection back to you:

✨ What does faith look like when it’s aligned with your higher self?
Because for so many of us, faith was taught as something outside of ourselves—something rigid. But your higher self might be guiding you to define it in a way that feels true and free.

✨ Where have you been outsourcing your truth instead of trusting your own inner wisdom?
Sometimes we’re so used to looking for answers in other people, systems, or traditions that we forget our soul already knows the way.

Faith without works is dead. But faith that flows through you? That transforms everything.

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