Faith, Fire, and the Forgotten: Who I Am
Over the last year, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on my Christian faith — and how it shapes everything I do.
I’ve walked alongside women in recovery who are trying to rebuild their lives piece by piece. I’ve investigated cases of the missing and murdered, carrying the weight of stories the world has long since moved on from. And I’ve realized something: these aren’t separate callings. They are the same heartbeat.
Every woman clawing her way back from addiction reminds me of Ezekiel 37:5:
“This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life.”
And every cold case file I open — every face the world forgot — reminds me of Luke 15:4:
“Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost one until he finds it?”
I chase after the ones others have abandoned, because that is exactly what Jesus does.
I also know this: being open about my faith may alienate some people.
I’ve wrestled with that.
But here’s the truth — it doesn’t have to.
I’m not speaking from a place of judgment. I’m speaking from a place of honesty. My faith isn’t a marketing angle. It’s not a filter I put on my work. It is the root of who I am. And being genuine about that matters more to me now than being universally accepted.
That said, I will always welcome genuine dialogue from people who see the world differently. I believe real connection begins when we can sit with each other’s stories — even when they aren’t the same as our own.
But now, I feel freer than ever to say this out loud: my drive to seek justice, my compassion for the broken, and my refusal to let the forgotten stay forgotten — all of it flows from my faith.
Micah 6:8 says it best:
“What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”
That is the path I’m choosing to walk.
And I won’t apologize for it.
This is who I am.
Faithful. Fierce. Unashamed.
And I will keep showing up — with faith, with fire, and for the forgotten.