Journeys of Faith: Nicola Bennett

Throughout Lent we'll be hearing stories of faith from across the Diocese. This week we hear from Nicola Bennett, our Head of Communications, who is convinced that all the best conversations happen in pubs...

I often joke that I’ve been marinading in the diocese since I was a baby which isn’t completely untrue. My Grandparents were stalwarts of the congregation in St Joseph’s, Cwmaman and I spent my early years sitting on the altar step belting out hymns (usually out of tune-nothing changes!) and insisting on processing out holding hands with Vicar Bowen.

In fact, I made my journalism debut in our church magazine when Fr Dean Atkins, our then parish priest, commissioned me to write a piece on our school pilgrimage to St David’s. From my recollections it was mostly about the toilets and the trip to Oakwood that followed, but, nonetheless, it was my first foray into church comms!

I grew up in a flurry of jumble sales, coffee mornings, Sunday School trips and Nativity plays. I was confirmed and went to the church school…faith was woven into the fabric of my life from an early age.

But looking back, I realise that for much of my childhood and early teenage years, my faith wasn’t really mine. It was something I inherited, a tradition I followed because it was all I had ever known. It wasn’t until I became a student, navigating life on my own far from home, that I truly began to seek out and discover my personal faith.

On my first Sunday in university I went along to the Sunday Service at the student church. Everyone was welcoming and lovely, but it didn’t feel like home. I felt like a passive observer, unsure how I fitted into this family. I was disheartened and confused, it was the first time I went to church and left feeling, well, nothing.

I decided that, perhaps, church would be a thing I did when I was back from uni, and not something that fitted into uni life. One night in the pub I got chatting to a fellow student who had a similar experience at the student church. (Why do all the best stories begin with ‘we were in the pub…’?!?) He told me about his church, a 40 minute walk away, but much more similar to what I was used to and encouraged me to go along.

I did, and I found a second home. I found a community of people who cared about me. They made me lunch, picked me up when I was struggling and cheered me on when things were going well.

I started exploring faith with fresh eyes. I read scripture, not just out of obligation, but out of a deep desire to understand. I prayed, not because I was supposed to, but because I genuinely wanted to hear from God.

And slowly, I began to experience faith in a real way. Not just as a doctrine or a checklist, but as a relationship. I encountered God in the quiet moments of doubt and in the overwhelming moments of joy. I saw Him in the kindness of strangers and in the peace that came when I surrendered my uncertainties to Him. My faith was no longer something I had inherited, it was something I had chosen.

I am the epitome of Archdeacon Mark’s assertion that more people find their faith on the road to Emmaus, than the road to Damascus. Finding my own faith didn’t mean abandoning everything I had been taught, it meant making it real for myself. It meant allowing space for questions while still trusting in the foundation of God’s truth. It meant understanding that faith isn’t about having all the answers, but about holding onto God even when I don’t.

As I continue this journey, I realise that faith is not a one-time decision, but a lifelong pursuit. There are still moments of doubt, but there is also deep assurance that my faith is no longer just something I grew up with, it’s something I live out daily.

I often think back to that conversation in the pub, and how it changed the course of my faith journey. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, the fellow student in the pub is now ordained and is an instrumental part of other people's faith journeys in a neighbouring diocese!

God has a funny way of showing up in the most unexpected places. Sometimes, it’s in the form of a fellow traveller offering exactly the right words when you need them most. It’s almost as if God enjoys reminding us that He’s always orchestrating things behind the scenes. And what a privilege it is to walk alongside others on this journey—to laugh, to cry, weather the storms, enjoy the detours and derailments and to share in the beautiful messiness of faith together.