Catholic. Partier. New Age. Atheist.
Then everything changed.
I was raised Roman Catholic but never really connected — I went through the motions, fell asleep in the pews, and faked being sick to skip Mass. College was rebellion: parties, drugs, freedom I loved and abused.
When real life hit — a lost job, a pregnant wife, constant fights — I went looking for peace anywhere I could find it. New Age, crystals, astral projection, tarot, angel numbers. None of it held. So I swung back hard to religion, said the rosary every night, and still felt nothing.
Eventually I gave up and called myself an atheist. I decided to read the Bible for one reason: to disprove it, so I’d have an excuse to stop going to church for good.
It did the opposite. Genesis gripped me. In Matthew I read Jesus’ own words and felt the weight of my own sin for the first time. I wept at worship music I’d never have been caught listening to. Then one day I got on my knees and prayed: “Jesus, if you are real, show me — and I’ll serve you.” A warmth ran from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Peace I’d never known, and it didn’t leave.
I came to faith in 2022, and my wife came to faith a month later. Today we’re raising three kids in a home that was transformed — and I haven’t stopped telling people since.
“I came to disprove God. He met me instead — and I couldn’t unsee what time it is.”
