I grew up in Slidell, La., about 30 miles away from New Orleans and the area's famed Bayou Country. My paternal grandfather was a minister who preached faith in God and a strong work ethic. He instilled those values in my father, Gene, who faithfully passed them on to my older brother, Bryan, and me.

As kids, Bryan and I really benefited from our dad's wisdom. Our family attended church every week at Hartzell Mount Zion Church in Slidell, and that was where I placed my faith in Christ when I was 15 years old.

I was blessed with an incredible childhood. My parents loved my siblings Amy and Bryan and me, and they devoted time to us and provided us with everything we needed. We grew up either playing in the creek behind our house in Santa Rosa, Calif., or walking across the street to the nearby state park’s swimming lagoon. I can still picture us carrying our giant inflatable animal rafts on our heads as we headed out for a swim.

My dad may have been playing in the NBA at the time, but the best basketball games I remember from my childhood were the ones between my little brother, Seth, and me on our backyard basketball court in Charlotte, N.C. We’d play for hours and hours, oftentimes well into the night with the use of a bright stage light shining on the court, until our mom would yell out the window for us to come in. Those games would get pretty heated, but that was the norm for brothers as close as we were.

Growing up in Pennsylvania, my grandmother raised me to go to church. I did all the normal Christian things like go to Sunday school, sing in the choir and participate in our group of junior missionaries. Obviously, by the time I got to college, I knew who God was. I could tell you all the Bible stories and knew about Jesus, but it all was a very premature version of knowing Him. I didn't really recognize Christ as my Lord and Savior or have a personal relationship with Him.