Baptized: A Relationship, Not a Religion
June 28, 2026.
For many people, water baptism marks the beginning of their faith journey. For me, it was something different—it was a public declaration of a relationship that God deepened through the most difficult season of my life.
I’ve always been a Christian. I grew up in church, attending youth group, Vacation Bible School, choir, and Sunday services. I knew the Bible stories, I knew the verses, and I believed in God. But if I’m being honest, there is a difference between knowing about God and truly knowing Him.
I didn’t fully understand God’s love, His peace, His strength, or His faithfulness until my world fell apart.
When Dany’s incident happened, everything changed in an instant. The life we built together, the future we planned, the dreams we had—all of it looked different overnight. It was a season filled with pain, grief, uncertainty, and questions I didn’t have answers for. Yet somehow, in the middle of the darkest storm of my life, I experienced something I had never experienced before: the presence of God.
Not just the idea of God. Not just the knowledge of God. But God Himself.
He carried me when I couldn’t carry myself.
People often tell me, “You’re so strong.” My response is always the same: no, I’m not. It wasn’t my strength that got me through—it was His.
Before all of this happened, I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. I thought I had to figure everything out. I thought I had to be in control. I thought strength meant handling things on my own. Now I know differently. I know what it means to surrender. I know what it means to trust God when you don’t understand. I know what it means to lean not on your own understanding, but on Him.
When I finally surrendered the weight I was carrying, I discovered something beautiful: God never asked me to carry it alone. He walked with me through every moment—not around the storm, but through it.
The Bible never promises that we won’t face hardships. It never promises that life will be easy. But it does promise that He will never leave us or forsake us. And I can testify that He hasn’t.
Today, verses and songs I’ve heard my entire life have a completely different meaning. “Amazing Grace” used to be a beautiful hymn—now it’s my testimony. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.” For years I sang those words. Today, I understand them.
I was blind, but now I see—not physically, but spiritually. I see God’s hand in places I never noticed before. I see His faithfulness, His mercy, His grace, and His presence.
The same is true with Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” For most of my life, I thought that verse meant I had to be strong. Now I understand it means He is strong. Christ strengthens me—not Feuna strengthens Feuna. That changes everything.
Something shifted inside of me after Dany passed. I can’t fully explain it, but the things that once seemed important suddenly weren’t. The music I used to listen to no longer interested me. The shows and movies I once enjoyed didn’t sit right with me anymore. Nobody told me to change. Nobody handed me a list of rules. My desires simply changed. My priorities changed. My heart changed.
I found myself wanting more of God—wanting to live differently, wanting to put Christ first, wanting to ask a question I remembered seeing everywhere when I was younger: WWJD—What Would Jesus Do? For years it was just a bracelet. Now it’s a way of living.
To me, following Christ means striving every day to become more like Him—not perfectly, because I’m human and I will fall short, but intentionally. It means choosing Him daily. It means living for Him instead of for the approval of the world. It means sharing the Gospel, sharing my testimony, and allowing God to use even my pain for His purpose. It means becoming less of me and more of Him.
That doesn’t mean life is easy. It doesn’t mean grief disappeared. It doesn’t mean there aren’t still hard days—because there are. But now I walk through those days differently, because I don’t walk through them alone.
And that is why I chose to be baptized.
Not because I have everything figured out. Not because I am perfect. Not because my journey is complete. But because God has been faithful. Because His grace has sustained me. Because His strength carried me. Because I want my life to reflect Him.
And because I want my daughter, Emma, to see that no matter what happens in life, God will always be there.
There will be storms. There will be heartbreak. There will be moments we don’t understand. But there will also be a Savior who never leaves, a Father who never forsakes, and a God who walks with us through every valley.
My prayer is that Emma will always know that truth—that when life becomes difficult, she won’t lean on her own strength, but on His. That she will know the same God who carried her mother through the darkest season of her life.
June 28, 2026, was more than a baptism. It was a declaration—a declaration that my life belongs to Jesus, that His grace truly is amazing, that I once was blind but now I see, and that whatever lies ahead, I will continue striving to live Christ-like, putting Him first, trusting His plan, and following wherever He leads.
