The One Who Pursues.
By Karin Miller
The fact that I was even born is a miracle. My mom has a condition called Scleroderma. It’s a disease that hardens the organs. Back in 1987, doctors said pregnancy would be impossible. Because there were fewer treatment options back then, carrying a baby was extremely dangerous for her. So when my mom found out she was expecting, the doctors urged her to terminate immediately.
But my parents, by faith, said, “We believe this child is a miracle from God. We’re carrying this baby to term.” Not only did my mom have a healthy pregnancy—she always says it was the best she had ever felt—everything went smoothly the day I was born. I was born healthy. She was healthy. Fifteen months later, my brother was born, too.
Growing up, I heard that story repeatedly, and from it, I knew my life had a purpose. Jeremiah 29:11 became the foundation of my life: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. I was born on purpose and for a purpose.
Because of my mom’s illness, I learned responsibility early. I learned how to cook, clean, and help around the house long before most kids my age did. As soon as I got my license, I was doing the grocery shopping and running errands.
Then my dad lost his job, and life got even harder. Money was tight. I also started to hear the word “no” often—not just because of money, but because of the Christian values our family had: no to certain activities, no to certain friends, no to dating boys, no to buying things I wanted, no to wearing certain clothes, etc.
Bitterness started growing in my heart, and I became angry. I was angry at my parents, angry at God, and angry at the life I felt stuck in—stuck at home, taking care of Mom, being a good “Christian.”
At sixteen, the anger boiled over. I had stopped going to youth group and pulled away from my Christian friends. I started lying to my parents, rebelling against everything they said, and getting into a lot of trouble. My parents had me on restriction from everything and everyone, desperate to get through to me.
The night before Halloween, I ran away from home to be with a boy I wasn’t allowed to date. As I jumped from party to party that night, I couldn’t escape the feeling deep down that I was being chased. And I knew exactly who was chasing me.
I heard His voice in my mind—clear, persistent, and full of love. The kind of love you hear about in the parable of the ninety-nine sheep, when the Shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to go after the one. God kept whispering, “Stop running from me. I love you.”
But I didn’t want to hear it. At one point, in my frustration, I yelled out loud for Him to leave me alone. I wanted to shut it out. I wanted to do things my way. But His voice wouldn’t stop. I was His. I belonged to God. He was relentless.
I later learned that people were praying for me all night. Eventually, my dad and uncle found me and brought me home. The next morning, my whole family gathered to pray over me. I was still angry and hard-hearted, but I think more than anything, I was tired.
Then I heard my mom pray, “God, we give up trying with her. She’s yours.” Something in me woke up. The words “She’s yours” shook me. And I found myself face to face with a holy God.
I broke down—ashamed, unworthy, exhausted, and so, so sorry. It was decision time: life with Him or life without Him.
That morning, I surrendered and I promised God I would never go through another hard thing without Him again. And God, being rich in mercy, forgave me, and I began my faith journey that day.
Life didn’t get easier overnight. But from that day forward, I knew two things:
My life had purpose.
I was loved beyond measure.
That promise I made became the foundation I would need for the seasons ahead.
My family has had our share of trials, triumphs, hills, and valleys, and we have seen God’s faithfulness in countless ways. One of the biggest was my mom’s double lung transplant when I was 17 years old. I also had my share of heartbreak in high school and college, all of which I needed God to help me through.
The year I graduated from college, 2011, I got married, moved out of my childhood home for the first time, and started my first full-time job as a Graphic Designer. A lot of change was happening, and anxiety attacks became a real problem. In 2013, I miscarried my first pregnancy. But one thing stayed the same: God remained by my side, and I don’t know how I would have gone through any of it without Him.
In 2015, my daughter Evangeline Naomi was born, and navigating marriage and motherhood became my focus while I continued my career in Graphic Design. I’ve always had an entrepreneurial heart, and my passion for design and photography has always been a creative outlet for me. Photography was something I did as a side gig.
But then in 2016, everything changed. Becoming a single mom wasn’t part of the plan. Overnight, life shifted when I found out about my husband's ongoing infidelity. I also found out I would be raising not one, but two babies alone. I was carrying a weight I never saw coming, doing everything I could to hold it all together.
That side gig? It became my lifeline. After my son, William Henley, was born, I started to build a wedding photography business that provided for my kids, gave me purpose, and kept us going when survival felt like the only option. In that season of grit and grace, I refused to be defined by what had happened to me. But I also couldn’t ignore how deeply it shaped me. I was doing hard things, but never doing them alone.
Isaiah 43:1 became my anchor:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine.”
Even when I felt unseen, God reminded me I was known. Even when I felt like I was barely holding on, He was holding me.
In 2019, I remarried an amazing man—a man who didn’t see me as a victim of my circumstances. He loved me for the strength I had found and supported the dreams I was building. He loved my children as his own, and I couldn’t imagine doing life without him. As I healed and grew stronger in my identity in Christ, something in me shifted. My “why” changed. No longer was I just fighting to survive. I began walking with other women—women who were also rebuilding, rediscovering, and reclaiming their identity. I was offering more than just photos. I was offering encouragement, truth, and presence.
That’s when God gave me the vision for Identify Photography.
It’s not just my next chapter—it’s the fulfillment of a promise.
Isaiah 43:18–19 says:
“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”
That’s exactly what God has done in me. He made a new way where there was no way, and He turned survival into purpose.
Identify Photography is dedicated to the woman who is still in the thick of it. The one who’s tired of performing, tired of pretending, and ready to be reminded of who she really is—not in the world’s eyes, but in God’s.
It’s for the woman ready to see herself again—clearly, honestly, and through the lens of truth.
When I look back over my life, my birth, the running, the heartbreaks, the single-mom years, the rebuilding, I can see now what the enemy had intended for evil, God was weaving together for good. At the time, I didn’t understand why the road was so hard or why so many prayers seemed unanswered. But now I see how each moment shaped me, grew me, and anchored me in His love.
The girl who once ran from God now stands as proof of His pursuit. The single mom who wondered how she would make it now carries a story of His provision. The woman who felt unseen now builds a business reminding others that they are fully known and deeply loved.
