Overall, my conversations with my grandpa really helped me stay a Christian. However, I did my best to distance myself from the people in my school. I took everything they had to say about God and the world with a grain of salt, and focused on keeping my grades decent rather than retaining any knowledge. I accepted that I was viewed as a black sheep in the school, simply because I was severely struggling with my faith and attempting to come to terms with that struggle, and was very open about it. I was not afraid to admit that I was wrestling with God, and that made a lot of people very uncomfortable, because they felt their faith was being threatened by my questions and concerns. So, naturally, they got defensive because of their fear. 

People in my school seemed blissfully unaware that struggling with God was basically a core commandment in Christianity, and that was painfully obvious when we read about the struggle between Jacob and an unidentified man. Our teacher simply glossed over it, saying she, nor anyone else, could understand it, thus it was rather insignificant, even though the man permanently dislocated Jacob's hip with just a single touch. That was probably the most significant moment in Jacob's life. His name was changed to Israel (which means "struggle with God"), and he walked with a limp for the rest of his life, all because he struggled with a man who many theological scholars say was God Himself. Out of every story that should've been deemed insignificant to Christianity, Jacob's struggle with God was certainly not one of them.

I felt better knowing that my struggle with God was biblical, so I figured I was doing something right. I didn't have childlike faith in God like my school preached was essential to get into heaven. I had a very critical faith in God, but perhaps that meant my faith was much more meaningful, because I actually took the time to challenge it, which gave God a chance to solidify my faith in Him. I was exercising my faith like a muscle, tearing it apart so it could rebuild itself twice as strong. As much as I suffered then, I had faith that my struggle with God would not be in vain. Whether or not I came out of it a Christian didn't matter to me. What mattered to me was discovering the truth, or at least, getting as close to the truth as my ability to learn and understand could get me. 

Unfortunately, my journey either towards God or away from God didn't progress much during the rest of the school year. Everything just sort of paused, so by the time summer rolled around, I was very much an agnostic. I didn't know if God existed, but I didn't deny Him either. I was willing to believe in God if He could show me He existed, which was a common theme throughout my walk with God. I'm very thankful God has always been patient, merciful, and loving, or else I probably wouldn't be here right now. If God had the same mentality as man, I would've been struck by lightning multiple times by now. 

Almost as soon as school let out for summer vacation, I joined my grandparents for a two week trip to my grandpa's childhood farm in North Dakota. We drove there, taking my dirtbike along with us, because I wanted to spend my days riding around from sunup to sundown, while my grandparents and their siblings renovated the old farmhouse. 

While there, I was in the middle of a major existential crisis. I had so many questions about God, Christianity, atheism, and more that didn't seem to have any answers, though I desperately needed some answers to feel at peace. During the day for the first several days, I actually managed to briefly forget about everything that was bothering me. I'd start my day by chugging down two bottles of Mountain Dew, and then immediately run outside onto the warm, windy plains to shove my big head into my helmet and go riding on my dirtbike.

I couldn't think about anything except for the present when I rode my dirtbike the first few times. North Dakota is a lot closer to sea-level than Colorado, which meant my dirtbike had a lot more power there than it did at home. On top of that, during the day, the wind was very strong. There wasn't anything to stop the wind as it blew over the plains, and I usually rode my dirtbike on some very exposed hills. So, not only did I have to be conscious about my dirtbike's newfound power, but I had to consciously lean into the wind to prevent it from blowing me over. Eventually, I did get used to riding my dirtbike in North Dakota, and that's when my existential crisis came back to haunt me. 

At first, I tried to avoid those questions by doing really stupid and daring things on my dirtbike. One hill in particular was very steep and roughly 20 feet tall, because it was made out of huge boulders my grandpa moved from the croplands decades before. So, in order to induce some extra adrenaline, I'd race up that hillside. My dirtbike would rear up like a horse when the front wheel reached the crest, and I'd have to stand up on the foot pegs and put all of my weight forward to keep my dirtbike from flipping over and body-slamming me. There was also a creek nearby that fed into a stagnant green pond. I'd race through the creek and then skid my rear wheel across the slick mud and grass ahead, fishtailing side-to-side for a few times until I'd regain control. Unfortunately, after only a few more days, even these stunts got boring, and my existential questions bit me in the ass yet again. 

I finally realized I couldn't run away from my problems forever, and reluctantly admitted defeat. That night, I asked my grandpa to join me in the old farmhouse while I did my treatments so I could talk to him. While we played a few card games, I told him about my concerns. I admitted that I no longer could consider myself a Christian, but I couldn't consider myself an atheist either. I didn't know where to turn or what, if anything, I should call myself. 

My grandpa assured me that what I was going through was a normal phase every Christian goes through at some point in their lives. He suggested that instead of blasting out my eardrums with hard rock and fast-paced bluegrass while I rode my dirtbike, I ought to listen to some sermons and lectures dealing with my questions and concerns. The dirtbike would keep my mind from wandering, so I could better soak up whatever I was listening to. Surely, someone, somewhere on the internet, had the answers I was looking for, and had a sermon or a lecture about it that I could listen to. I just needed to do some research, which was something I was very good at. 

Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I sat out on my aunt Donnell's back porch and stared up at the Milky Way. There wasn't a moon or any light pollution to hide the universe above me. I'd never seen the stars so bright before, and I was in absolute awe of them. While I stared up at the night sky, I realized just how small and insignificant I really was. I was just one person, on a planet of almost 8 billion people, but my planet wasn't unique. It was one out of billions. And out of those billions of planets, there were many out there very similar to Earth that likely could support life. Perhaps, those planets may even have intelligent life on them. If we discovered intelligent life, or just life in general on another planet, what would that say about the bible's claims that humans are unique?

Aside from that, the universe was very old, and according to my understanding of modern science, it came from a singularity; a tiny dot floating around somewhere else. Somewhere else beyond space and time. That begged for a God. But, was the biblical God responsible for the creation of the universe? Or was it someone, multiple beings, or something else? 

I was torn between two different ideas that had equal merit. Alien life definitely made atheism appealing, because if we found intelligent life out there, to me, it would be problematic for the bible's claims that humans were the only ones chosen by God to bear His image. On the other hand, the creation of the universe definitely appealed to the biblical God, and seemed impossible to happen without a God, at least in my eyes. I knew they were two unrelated things that were sparring in my own mind, but I had so many questions that I just didn't care. 

For most of the remainder of my trip, I listened to my grandpa's advice, and spent more time listening to discussions dealing with God rather than melting my brain with Greensky Bluegrass and Dropkick Murphys. While a few of the discussions did answer some of my more minor questions, I still didn't find what I was looking for. Even when I listened to atheists talk about God, nothing they said seemed to move me away from God. In fact, most of the time, the atheists I listened to more or less beat around the bush. They neither denied or accepted God. They were neutral. Likewise, I was just stuck in a strange, uncomfortable limbo between God and atheism, from which I didn't expect to escape any time soon. 

Towards the end of my trip, I parked up on the farthest hill in the pasture, facing west towards the sunset, and killed my dirtbike's ringing engine. I did this every night on the farm, because I didn't want to miss North Dakota's epic sunsets. It was very peaceful there, and calmed me down after a good, long day of riding and being outside. By that time, the raging wind of the afternoon had died down to a gentle breeze, so I could hear every songbird, every pheasant, every steer, and every other creature that existed within several miles from me. I avoided making direct eye-contact with the sun as I lifted my shaded goggles so I could take in all of the wonderful colors that lay before me. The sky went from a bright yellow towards the horizon, to a dark violet towards the sky, and the clouds that hung towards the west were painted with shades of gold, pink, red, blue, and purple. Even the color of the grass was enhanced, turning the golden-green plains of the day a beautiful glowing green-gold by the evening. 

While I sat there on my dirtbike, taking all of that rural beauty in, I felt the sudden urge to pray. While I would've resisted that urge during any other time of the day, I was in a deep state of awe, so I prayed without question. 

"Lord..." I began quietly, "I'm not sure You're here. I'm not sure if You'll hear this. Hell, I don't even know if You exist or not. But, if You do exist and can hear my voice, I want to make a deal with You. If You can provide me with empirical evidence of Your existence, then I'll start taking my faith more seriously. I'm not promising I'll fall to my knees and become an ultra religious Christian on the spot, but I am promising one thing; I'll quit it with the bullshit, stop screwing around, and actually start to take Christianity seriously. I'll believe in You, Lord, if You can show me who You are in a way that I can see and measure. But, until then, I'll continue going down the path I'm on. I'm not sure where that'll lead me. Probably nowhere good. But, God, I need confirmation of Your existence to stay a Christian. You gonna accept this challenge, or have I finally disproved Your existence in my life?"

With that, I cracked open a soda, chugged it down while the last ray of sunlight sank below the prairie, and hauled ass back to the farm so I could have dinner while it was still warm. In a strange way, that prayer felt freeing. No longer did I feel obligated to listen to hours upon hours of debates, discussions, sermons, and lectures while I charged across the plains on my red steel steed. It was God's turn to reveal Himself to me. I was blissfully unaware of what I'd just challenged God to do, and had no idea what I was in for in the fast-approaching future.