A Holy Gift

Exactly 20 years ago, on March 1, 2003, my life was changed. I was changed. It started in my hands, sort of like the feeling you get when your arm falls asleep – except it was in both hands, gripping the steering wheel of my 1985 Toyota Celica GT hatchback.

It was 3:30AM and I was driving through the empty streets of my hometown listening to music, smoking cigarettes, remembering what it felt like when I first got this car back in high school. Those days seemed so distant, but not because of the years that had passed, but because of the innocence lost. I was now twenty-two years old, a senior in college at the University of Wisconsin. Hungover again, I had come home for the weekend to visit my girlfriend Wendy.

She was a Nurse and had just left for her 12-hour shift, which started at 3AM. I was staying in her parent’s basement, and I still hadn’t fallen asleep. Sick of lying around with my racing thoughts, I decided to go for a drive since. What followed changed the course of my life forever.

So what happened on that night, March 1, 2003?

Much of the information I share here will require you to believe I am a truthful and credible person. If you don’t know me personally, that obviously presents some difficulty. If you do conclude that I’m simply making this up, I don’t blame you. This world is full of attention-seekers and fakers, so maybe I’m just another one to add to your list. I just want to assure you that I’m not trying to sell you anything and I don’t want your money. Telling a story like this does not exactly paint me in a flattering light, as you’ll see later on when I recount how I impaled myself on a fence while drunk. Putting detailed, personal information about yourself on the internet isn’t really a prudent idea either. Anyway, I better get to it, I know attention spans are short these days. First, just a little background on myself.

(If you would prefer an audio version, click below for a talk I gave in 2015)

I was born on June 7, 1980 and I grew up in Menasha, Wisconsin (USA). I come from a family of six children, me being the second-eldest. We didn’t have a lot of money, but my parents provided a loving home. They were both Christians, and took us all to church every Sunday. I guess I would have considered myself a Christian growing up, but by the time I was a teenager, I was essentially done with all of that. I worked most Sundays and stopped going to church with my family. While not an atheist, I just didn’t really care about spiritual things at that point in my life. I always got good grades in school, but I was never much of an athlete or very popular. As a sophomore in high school, my friends and I discovered a new way to pass time…getting drunk. It seemed innocent enough at first, but as the years passed, the hangovers worsened and the consequences became more severe. Days before I graduated from high school, I was arrested for drunk driving and lost my license. I had been dating a girl named Wendy for the last few months and we would attempt the dreaded “long-distance relationship” since I would be leaving for college in the Fall and she still had another year of high school to finish. Madison was two hours away, and I think we both had our doubts about how long we would make it together.

I was never what I would consider an alcoholic, because I didn’t drink every day. I was a binge-drinker, which meant that I would get hammered Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night and then swear I would never drink again by Sunday. I was not what you would call a “social drinker.” Many of you can relate, I’m sure. If you’ve ever been hungover, you know how much it sucks. When you first start drinking – especially if you’re young – the hangovers aren’t bad at all. But they steadily get worse with age and experience. By the time I was twenty, the hangovers started to not only get worse physically, but also mentally. There was a “darkness” to them that I could feel, and sleeplessness usually accompanied that. It’s hard to describe exactly what I mean, but it was almost as if I felt like a machine, not fully alive, very aware of the mechanics of my breathing – if that makes any sense. My friends and I were also experimenting with drugs, some of which offer their own dark experiences that are inescapable when you are under the influence of them.

A series of physical injuries would ultimately help motivate me to take a step back and at least start questioning the life I was living. I want to detail each of them, as they are both relevant for reasons you will understand just a bit later. I’m sure it all sounds a bit confusing, but bear with me. Here’s the first injury.

May 15, 2001 – Somehow, the Milwaukee Bucks were in the playoffs and were tied in a best-of-seven series with the Charlotte Hornets, two games each. As I mentioned, I am from Wisconsin, and the Bucks are the professional basketball team from our state. For most of my life they had been terrible, but that year they were actually in the playoffs. It was a Thursday night, and I was getting drunk as usual. I shared a house with four other guys, and we were watching the game. The Bucks lost that night, and apparently I was quite upset about this. I went outside on our back deck and started throwing things (yes, I am an idiot).

I picked up a large, broken shard of wood from a demolished piece of furniture and tried to throw it like a Frisbee with both hands. The jagged end came around as I let it go and slashed open my right hand. The cut was deep and my friends took me to the hospital where they stitched me up. I lied and told them I cut my hand washing dishes, as you can see on the hospital report. This event didn’t really slow me down at all in terms of drinking. I was actually very fortunate that the laceration missed any tendons or arteries. All that remains today is a scar and some nerve damage, but otherwise my hand is fully functional.

A year later, I would injure myself again, only this time it was much more serious. It was Friday night, April 5, 2002. I was in the midst of a “bender”, meaning I had been drinking for days, stopping only when I slept. We were hanging out at a bar on State Street near the university campus in Madison, Wisconsin. One of my friends wanted to leave and I followed him. He hopped a fence that was across the street from the bar.

I don’t have a clear memory of the exact series of events that followed, but I know I tried to climb the fence and got stuck, I believe from my belt. There were two individuals who pushed me up over the fence, but I don’t remember if they were trying to help me off the fence or hurt me. My full weight came down on one of the fence spikes, driving it deep into my body in the very upper part of my left leg, essentially…my ass. I don’t know how I got off the fence, or really how I got home. I remember getting punched at some point, but I’m not sure if it was the same guys by the fence or someone else. When I arrived at my house (322 West Wilson St), I stumbled into my room and collapsed. Waking up from a night like that is always confusing, the mind struggling with only random images and scattered memories of the night before. In this case, the sight of blood in my bed jolted me awake. Everything felt kind of numb and swollen around the wound area, and I was obviously still bleeding. I showered and hid my bloody clothes, not knowing how bad it was. I didn’t even tell my roommates because I was embarrassed about the whole thing. With a black eye and a swollen face, I laughed it off with them – just another night of stupidity. As the day went on, and the bleeding continued, I finally conceded to myself that I needed medical attention. I made up a story about my sister coming to town, and told my roommates that I was going to stay with her for a few days. I packed a change of clothes and walked to Meriter Hospital, alone.

At the hospital, I waited in the Emergency Room to be admitted and examined. They asked a lot of questions, and were very skeptical of my story. I told them I hurt myself trying to climb a fence, but they kept asking if someone had attacked me or stabbed me. Every person that looked at my injury went to go get someone else, and finally they concluded that I needed to have surgery immediately. Since it had been nearly twenty-four hours since the injury occurred, and the wound had not been properly cleaned, the doctors wanted to act quickly because they believed the risk of infection was high. Dr. Jacquelynn Thompson (now Jacquelynn Arbuckle) was the surgeon on call that Saturday night, so we waited for her to arrive while I was prepped for surgery. I had to call my dad for insurance purposes, and also called my girlfriend Wendy. I was ashamed and scared, but did my best to hide it.

When I awoke from surgery, Dr. Thompson came in and informed me regarding the severity of my injury. She said she could fit her entire hand inside the wound. From what she saw during surgery, she had serious concerns about potential infection. She was very straightforward with me about the consequences of infection and due to the location of the injury, there was potential for permanent damage, impacting my future ability to have children. That news hit me hard. Every few hours they wanted me to sit in a warm bath to help the wound heal. I remember sitting there, alone, naked, and dead sober. This was the lowest point of my life. I hated that this had happened to me. In my pride, I hated the thought of anyone seeing me like this. I was released a couple days later after a heavy dose of IV antibiotics, with no signs of infection. The healing process was slow, and required multiple follow-up visits. I never told any of my friends.

I gladly left Madison after that school year and spent the summer in my hometown with Wendy, working at Neenah Foundry as an intern. Wendy and I spent a lot of time together, and I began to realize how grateful I was that she was still with me. I had been a selfish drunk for the five years we had been together, yet she continued to love me despite all of the ways I hurt her. That summer together strengthened our struggling relationship, and I remember wishing I could stay with her for more than just three months.

We used to watch a lot of movies together back then, and one in particular had captured my mind. The Fellowship of the Ring was the first movie released based on the The Lord of the Rings book series by JRR Tolkien. I won’t bore you with a plot synopsis, but the story is based on a ring that holds immense power, capable of corrupting anyone in possession of it. I was fascinated with the intricate ways the movie was able to contrast good and evil. Wendy must have gotten sick of me watching it over and over. Ultimately, I decided to try reading the book.

Prior to that, I hadn’t really read anything of substance unless it was required for school – at least not since I was quite young. I found that reading was very calming because it kept my mind preoccupied, especially when I was hungover. I started to take this concept of good and evil and apply it to my life. Wendy and my family back home were “good”, while my life of drinking and drugs was “evil.”

But there was a serious problem. I still loved the evil things that were destroying my life.

I loved getting drunk. I loved looking at porn. I loved getting high. I would never admit this to myself of course, but I could have stopped all of it…if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. When I returned to school for my senior year of college, I could tell things were different. Our apartment that year was right on the shore of Lake Mendota (620 N Carroll St) and I had my own room. I was definitely more withdrawn from my friends, and didn’t mind spending time alone. There was a gym in the basement, so I started working out and often I would just stay in our apartment to watch music videos, getting drunk and stoned by myself while my roommates went out. I struggled with sleep more than ever, but at least now I had something to occupy my mind. Reading at night was something I looked forward to and I finished all three books in The Lord of the Rings series. I had to find something to read next.

My mind kept going to the Bible that my parents had given me four years earlier as a high school graduation present, days before I went off to college. I remember when my mom handed it to me, flipping through it, hoping there was some money inside and trying not to roll my eyes when I read what she had written in the front cover.

I took it with me to college and stuffed it in my top dresser drawer. I didn’t want to throw it away or anything – I mean, it was a Bible – but I never considered reading it. Every year I forgot I even had it until it was time to move to a new apartment and I would transfer it to a new dresser drawer. But now…I felt like I was drawn to it. I couldn’t get it off my mind. I started reading in my room with the door locked. I didn’t tell anyone – except Wendy. My Dad always used to quote Proverbs to us when we were young, so I started there. Over and over again I would read something, and my mind would instantly flash to moments from my past or people in my life.

I finished Proverbs and started reading about Jesus in the New Testament. The Jesus depicted here in the Bible was nothing like my notions of him that I carried from childhood. He was so authentic, so wise, so loving – yet willing to throw down with the religious hypocrites that seemed to bother him so much (Matthew 23:1-36). He had the power to heal people and could speak into their life because he knew what they were thinking. Jesus made claims that would have gotten him sent to an insane asylum today – such as coming down from heaven (John 6:38), or existing thousands of years before his birth (John 8:58). He told his followers that he would be killed, but come back to life three days later (Mark 8:31). Then, that very thing happened, just as he said. Today, Jesus is the most famous human to ever live. My heart would pound when I would read certain parts of the Bible, sometimes causing me to slam it shut. I didn’t like feeling convicted. If all this was true, I had no excuse. If all this was true…I was lost. 

I remember reading about a conversation between Jesus and a man named Nicodemus. He met with Jesus in secret, afraid of what his peers would think, since he was a powerful man and a ruler among the Jews. Jesus said to him:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” (John 3:3)

This was the first time I had encountered that term “born again” in the Bible. I always thought it was just a slang term for Christians. Like, crazy weird Christians. Jesus continued:

“Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” (John 3:7)

What did it mean to be born of the Spirit?

I had a very basic understanding of Christianity, but this was beyond me. I finished reading the entire New Testament and I had a lot of questions. I wasn’t sure what to think about being “born again” or about the mysterious “Holy Spirit.” One thing I was sure about was the existence of evil. I had seen too much over the last few years. Things like the Columbine school shooting, the September 11 attacks, and even some of the people I had encountered in the world of drinking and drugs. It was clear to me that something had gone very wrong with this world. I had felt it inside myself too. Evil.

And that’s where I found myself on March 1, 2003 at the age of 22. Driving my car in the middle of the night. My mind restless. Searching for answers, searching for peace.

Then I felt it.

It started in my hands, just a light tingling sensation. It was like they had fallen asleep, or maybe I was just cold? But it intensified, and I could feel it in my neck, my head, spreading through my body. Now please, understand. I’ve done drugs. I’ve experienced all kinds of unnatural highs and things like that. This was nothing like that. The only way to describe the physical intensity I was feeling was like some sort of “electricity” – but it wasn’t painful.

I blurted out the words ‘It’s God, it’s God’, and the moment I did, the intensity increased to a point that I didn’t think I could physically handle it. I seriously thought I might die if it kept getting stronger. It wasn’t painful, but I was scared out of my mind because this was not under my control. Breathing fast, I pulled my car into Butte des Morts Park, trying to hold it together. I remember shutting off my loud music that was blasting in my car because it wasn’t helping matters.

I remember saying out loud ‘call Dad’ and struggling with my cell phone. It was probably around 4AM, so my dad was sleeping, soon to be getting up for work at Miller Electric. When he answered, I must have sounded like a crazy person- no doubt. I was scared, and I wanted him to come get me, since I didn’t think I could drive home in this state. I described my location the best I could, and he said he was coming. I think he believed I was suicidal…or drunk again.

There I sat. Alone, but not alone. Sitting in my car, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. I knew it was God. The God that I had been reading about. The God that had interacted with all of these people in the Bible thousands of years ago. And suddenly, He was here. Very real…and very powerful. I had felt just a tiny fraction of His power, and it was more than I could take. The physical intensity started to subside, and I wept.

Why me?

Why would the God of the universe even think of me? Years later, I would read the words of Isaiah when he encountered this very same God named Yahweh:

Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts. (Isaiah 6:5)

Undone. Unraveled. Broken. Lost. I became so aware of my sin in that moment, it made me want to hide. Sin was a concept I had learned from the Bible because it was spoken of so frequently…and I was covered in it. I had broken God’s law. I was guilty before the Judge of the universe and I had no defense. No appeal. Similarly, these are the words of Peter, when he realized he was in the presence of the Lord:

“Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”
-Peter (Luke 5:8)

I felt the same. The only thing I knew how to do was ask for help. After an eternity of silence, I found the words to speak to Him.

“God I need you, please help me. Please save me.”

The words of a broken man. Not just broken, but dead. I was physically alive, but spiritually dead. The Bible speaks with astounding clarity about my condition, and about what God had done for me.

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience – among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ – by grace you have been saved (Ephesians 2:1-5)

I didn’t deserve this. I was full of pride and had done many, many shameful things throughout my life. For all of these years, I had rejected the God who had given me life. I had not simply ignored Him, I was His enemy. But by the grace of God, I surrendered my life to Him that night. The war was over and for the first time, I had peace with God. I had been born again, born of the Spirit – just like Jesus said, and I would never be the same.

My dad arrived on the scene and I remember his hesitancy to get out of the car as his headlights shined on me. I ran up to him and hugged him – freaking him out for sure! We spoke for a long time in his van, as the sun came up, and I could see his skepticism turning to joy. I got back into my car, a different person than I was just a few hours earlier. I called Wendy at work and said something like

“You’re never going to believe what just happened to me. I felt the presence of God and I’m a Christian now. I’ll see you after work.”

She was stunned.

I could tell you all kinds of things about the next few weeks, but I said I wanted to keep this as concise as possible. In light of that, I would like to get into some evidence I have for the authenticity of this experience. However, I want to be clear, I do not expect that any evidence I present here will convince you that what I experienced was from God. I simply want to share some things that God showed me. So I will get right into it with the first piece of evidence I have.

Myself.

I was changed on that night. My desires changed, and for the first time I felt the desire to please God. I proposed to Wendy two weeks later and I told her I wanted to stop having sex until we were married the following year. It’s not that I didn’t want to have sex, but I wanted to honor her and to honor God more. I felt convicted about how I had treated her over the last five years and asked for her forgiveness. I confessed that I had not been faithful to her. Her response was one of love and forgiveness, a response I didn’t deserve. We were married the following year.

I stopped getting drunk, stopped getting high, and did my best to live a life that reflected what I knew from the Bible. While none of this always came easily, I was not alone. The Spirit of God now dwelled inside me, helping me in this new life. I was a new creation, with a new heart, and new desires. I started reading books about God, spirituality, religion – anything I could get my hands on. I wasn’t perfect. At all. God was “cleaning me up” and it was not a quick process. But life change, real life change, is hard to fake and there is no denying that my life changed on that night. Those around me saw it and were witnesses to it. So I want to offer that as a piece of evidence in regards to the authenticity of this experience. No matter what you believe about my experience that night, there is no denying that it changed my life.

Now let’s get weird. All right, this story is already weird, but this is where we go down the rabbit hole a bit. Hopefully I can present this in a somewhat rational way. Remember that loud music that was playing during my experience in the car? I remembered it only because it was freaking me out at the time, and that caused me to shut if off. The song was by a band named TOOL, and the name of the song was Parabola.

TOOL is a rock band that has a pretty large following. They aren’t exactly mainstream, but they definitely aren’t obscure. A Rolling Stone readers’ poll from 2011 put them in the top 10 metal bands of all time. At that time in my life, I was into heavy rock (Deftones, Disturbed, Mudvayne, KORN, Alice in Chains, Linkin Park, Rage Against the Machine, System of a Down, etc.) and TOOL was just another band that I really enjoyed. Their lyrics are usually pretty weird, I would even say nonsensical at times, and it’s often hard to understand what lead singer Maynard James Keenan is saying. But his voice is phenomenal, and their sound is very unique. Anyway, the only reason I know the song Parabola was playing is because at the end of the song there is a very heavy guitar riff with no vocals. It stands apart from the rest of the song, having an almost ominous sound to it. That is the particular part of the song that was playing during my experience in the car, and actually caused me to shut it off – because it was freaking me out! I mean, I was scared already from what I was feeling, and this ominous guitar solo blasting in my car was not helping things. So when I got home early that morning, just hours after my experience, I had this song Parabola stuck in my head and I felt compelled to look up the lyrics. Here are a few lines from the song:

Hold on, stay inside this holy reality, this holy experience

I am not alone in this body, this body holding me

Recognize this as a holy gift and celebrate this chance to be alive and breathing

I mean, ‘recognize this as a holy gift‘ is about as clear as it gets if you are looking for some sort of explanation for what happened to me. TOOL is most certainly not considered a “Christian” band and if you check out other lyrics and songs from them, and you won’t see content like this. Lead singer Maynard Keenan’s lyrics are usually very confusing, and fans are left wondering what exactly he is talking about. But, no matter what song happened to be playing, I have come to view everything about that night as a gift from God.

A holy gift.

God allowed me to feel a tiny fraction of His power. He gave me His Holy Spirit. He set me free from slavery to sin. He brought me from death to life. He saved me. I was given the gift of salvation , just as the Bible says:

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:8-9)

But why me?

That is a question that bothers me because I know I am not more intelligent, more spiritual, more “good” than anyone else. I did nothing to earn this. It was a gift in the truest sense of the word. There have been many times over the years where even just remembering this experience has given me strength during times of doubt. So I offer these lyrics from the song that was playing during my experience as further evidence that what occurred was from God. Now of course you can say that I just searched for some lyrics that sounded spiritual by a popular rock band, and invented this whole story about a song playing during my experience. Well, let’s look a little deeper into the song at something that would be much more difficult to fake.

This next piece of evidence from the song Parabola will connect with some of my previous experiences. First, just a quick reminder of the two injuries I sustained during my years at college. My hand in 2001, and the fence incident in 2002. Now, let’s look at the music video for Parabola. Yes, I am an adult, and I’m actually going to present a music video as evidence for God’s interaction in my life. Really.

I don’t remember seeing the music video until a week or two after my experience, when I was back at college. We didn’t have YouTube back in 2003, so I had to download music videos off the internet. As I said previously, during that time in my life, I loved to sit around in my apartment, smoke weed, drink and watch music videos – my roommates from that time could confirm this. So I finally got around to downloading the music video for the song Parabola, and again, I was presented with something extremely relevant to my experience. Now most of the video is pure nonsense, the entire beginning is…weird – typical of most TOOL videos. But fast forward to the end of the song around 8:40 (click here) and watch the video sequence during the heavy guitar riff I mentioned earlier.

Freaky? Yes. But the parallel to what I experienced is undeniable. Let’s look even closer at what’s going on here.

At 8:54 (click here) you have the subject looking at his right hand. Now recall back to my hand injury in 2001

While the visual similarity is plain to see, even the date that my hand injury occurred relates to this song. The album (Lateralus) was officially released on the same day I slashed my hand open.

Let’s keep going with the video…The flaming eyes in the video enter the subject’s body from the feet and make their way up. At 9:09 (click here), you see one of the eyes (with a red trail) pierce through the subject’s body at the same location as my fence impalement from April 2002.

Continuing with the video sequence to 9:18 (click here), you can distinctly see a cross form in the subject’s heart. Again, I think the symbolism speaks for itself.

I was born of the Spirit on March 1, 2003.

“You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.” (Romans 8:9-11)

The Holy Spirit appeared visually as a flame when the disciples first received the Spirit on the day of Pentecost, as described in Acts 2:1-4. So I would even consider the flames from the video to be relevant.

Okay, enough of the music video, I probably lost a lot of you on that one. I have shared that with a few of my family and friends and I usually just end up with blank stares. Anyway, one final piece of evidence for you. March 1, 2003 instantly became a very special date to me. Every year, Wendy and my family would acknowledge this day as the day I had been “born again” – like a spiritual birthday. Wendy and I were married one year later in 2004 and welcomed our first child (Liam) into the world on March 1, 2006 – exactly 3 years to the day after my experience.

So how do I know that this experience was from God? Maybe I just had a panic attack or some type of seizure. I think the bigger question is how can we really know anything? How can we discern actual, objective reality from perceived reality? If we can only rely on our senses and our mind, how can we be sure of something if our senses and our mind can deceive us?

In this case, I knew it was God in the midst of my experience. It wasn’t as if I got back in my car and drove home confused about what had happened. I didn’t need the circumstantial evidence (lyrics, music videos, birth of my son, etc) to convince me that I had really encountered the living God on March 1, 2003. Rather, I was convinced in the moment that it happened. It’s quite simple actually. Since God is both all-knowing (omniscient) and all-powerful (omnipotent), He is the only one who can make us know something.

How does God make us know something? I don’t know. But I think back to that night, and to the words that seemed to fall out of my mouth:

‘It’s God, it’s God’

In that moment, God made me know.

But which God? What if the God I encountered that night was actually Allah of Islam or maybe I had some sort of Hindu Kundalini Awakening? Well, it’s been over 20 years since I had this experience and I am closer to Jesus today than I ever have been. I could try and convince you that Jesus is the only way to be saved, but I can’t change your heart. You need to be born again, you need the Spirit of the living God to show you the truth.

How? Ask Him. Humble yourself before God. Repent of your sins and put your trust in Jesus.

There is no other way to be saved.

Want to learn more about Jesus? Let me send you a free Study Bible to help you (click here). Read the book of John, which is a short biography about Jesus. The nice thing about a Study Bible is that it includes notes at the bottom of every page that help explain what the Bible says. But even without the notes, I can’t emphasize enough how just reading God’s Word can reveal truth and expose the lies that we believe.

For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. (Hebrews 4:12)

When I read the Bible it cut me, right down to my soul. The words of God enlightened me, but they also convicted me. God speaks through His Word. Click here if you would like me to send you a free Study Bible.

Questions? Feedback? Want to just tell me I’m insane? Contact Steve

I would also like to send you a free gift that I hope will help you on your own spiritual journey. If you have questions or objections to Christianity, this book is one that can provide some answers.

One of my fears when I became a Christian was that I would have to “check my brain at the door” when it came to issues of science, history, and the Bible. But faith is not a matter of intelligence. There are brilliant people on both sides of the matter. If you would like me to send you a free copy, click here.

So now that I have been born again, life is perfect right? God just wants me to be happy and rich and stuff like that, right? God would never allow anything really bad to happen in my life, right?? Well, if you’ve been told things like that…I’m sorry. To continue reading my story, click here.