Quinnee Zimmerman, BFA, MPA

I did not grow up as a traditional “church girl,” but I have always lived close enough to faith to feel its nearness. My earliest encounters with God were woven into my upbringing through proximity — the steady presence of my great aunt and great grandmother bringing me to church, Vacation Bible School summers, my mother’s highlighted Bible resting open on her nightstand, and gospel music filling our home each Sunday morning. These threads formed the foundation of a Baptist identity that I carried, but did not yet grasp with spiritual understanding.

Over time, I learned that a foundation left unnourished cannot sustain the weight of life. Without discipleship, community, and theological grounding, faith can become something inherited rather than inhabited — something known, but not lived. And when faith becomes ritual without relationship, it begins to lose its breath. That is where I found myself: wandering through adulthood with a faith built on familiarity rather than formation. I believed in God, but I did not cultivate intimacy with Him.

My early faith was deeply cultural — shaped by red hymnals, communion Sundays, new member orientations, Vacation Bible School crafts, butter cookies, and bologna sandwiches after service. These experiences were rich, beautiful, and deeply tied to the Black church tradition, but they did not translate into spiritual maturity. They were memories, not disciplines. Culture, no matter how sacred, cannot substitute for relationship.

In my searching, I explored many spiritual identities: Islam, general spirituality, Ifá, esoteric traditions, and even a season of agnosticism. But even as I explored, I never denied the reality of God. He remained the constant in every space I entered — patient, present, and waiting. What I lacked was not belief, but formation. I had proximity to church, but I had not developed the practices that nourish a sustaining faith.

For a season, I felt spiritually homeless. Isolation makes it easy to forget the seeds planted long ago. Yet in an unexpected moment — celebrating the baptism of my younger line sister — something in me reawakened. I had gifted her a journaling Bible, pens, and stationery, wanting to encourage her journey. In her excitement, I saw reflected the memory of my own baptism on September 27, 1998 — a moment of innocence and sincerity that I had long distanced myself from. That memory brought me full circle and stirred a desire to choose Christ again, not culturally, but consciously.

I reached out to another line sister who serves in church leadership and asked her what felt like the most honest question I could pose at that moment: “Where do I start?” I did not want titles, roles, or spiritual accolades. I wanted authenticity. I wanted to rebuild my faith from the inside out — not through performance, but through practice. Not through mimicry, but through communion with God.

This return to faith has become both my personal transformation and the foundation of my call to seminary. I now recognize a deep desire not only to rebuild my own spiritual life, but to understand how others navigate similar journeys — how people wander, return, rebuild, and rediscover God’s presence after seasons of uncertainty or spiritual fragmentation. My academic interests lie at the intersection of spiritual formation, the lived experience of Black Christianity, theological identity, and the lifelong process of discipleship.

Through an M.Div., I hope to explore questions that have shaped my journey:

• How is faith formed, lost, and renewed across different seasons of life?

• What does authentic discipleship look like for those raised in cultural Christianity?

• How can Black church traditions cultivate spiritual formation that moves believers from ritual to relationship?

• What role does wandering play in deepening one’s theological commitment?

• How do we create spaces where those who feel spiritually displaced can return, rebuild, and belong?

I come to seminary not as someone who has arrived, but as someone who has surrendered — someone who desires to be shaped, guided, challenged, and spiritually formed. My journey has taught me that restoration does not begin with certainty; it begins with honesty and a willingness to start again.

Today, I stand in a renewed commitment to my faith and to the God who waited patiently for my return. I want to steward that grace through study, ministry, and a life that bridges faith and formation for others who may be standing on the edge, unsure of where to begin.