For most of my life, I carried invisible wounds. Childhood trauma left deep marks--emotional, physical, and spiritual--that I didn’t know how to face. I learned to survive by pretending everything was fine, but inside, I was unraveling. To dull the pain, I turned to anything that could distract me from it. Food became comfort, alcohol became escape and relationships became my way of feeling seen. I kept searching for something to fill the ache, never realizing what I was truly longing for was peace--the kind only Jesus could bring. Then came the night my soul broke open. It was the darkest night I had ever known; the kind where even your own heartbeat feels painful. I sat alone, surrounded by silence, holding a handful of pills, and whispered “I just wanted to go home… wherever home was.” I truly believed everyone would be better off without a shattered mess like me. The pain inside felt unbearable, I was ready to let go. And then, in that stillness, something sacred happened. It wasn’t a voice or a vision; just a quiet, undeniable presence that filled the room like light breaking through smoke: “I’m not done with you.” Those words stopped me cold. I fell to the floor, sobbing, realizing that Jesus hadn’t left me. He had been there all along, waiting for me in the ashes. Jesus didn’t demand that I be better, He didn’t ask for perfection. He simply poured love into every place I thought was beyond repair. That night became my beginning. Healing came slowly; through surrender, forgiveness, and learning to walk with… Read More
How Everyday People Live Out Their Christian Faith
Illustrating how men and women display their love for Jesus in their day-to-day lives.
Little things that may have an eternal impact. Might these stories motivate you to use your talents?
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I spent 10 years in prison because of the choices I made during the darkest season of my life. I was deep into drugs, anger, and pride, and one terrible night, it all caught up with me. I got into a violent fight that left a man seriously injured, and I was charged with aggravated assault. For a long time, I blamed everyone else. But the truth was simple—I had become a person I didn’t even recognize. I hurt people, I lied, and I lived like nothing and no one mattered. By the time I was sentenced, I had burned every bridge I had. Prison didn’t soften me. It hardened me even more. I carried anger like an armor. I woke up with it, walked the yard with it, and let it sit on my chest every night like a weight I couldn’t lift. Shame followed me everywhere, and I kept replaying the night of my arrest, wondering where it went wrong until the memory felt like a wound that never healed. One afternoon, while I sat alone at a metal table in the rec room, the chaplain approached me. He didn’t preach or give a long speech. He simply placed a worn Bible in front of me and said, “Whenever you’re ready.” Then he walked away. I stared at that book long after he left, unsure why I didn’t push it aside. That night, when the block went quiet, I opened it. I just flipped through and read whatever caught my eye. The stories surprised me. They were full of broken people, men and… Read More
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Charles Dickens’ enduring line, “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times,” perfectly describes my life in 1976. Parties were plentiful, responsibilities were shallow, and worries felt far away. Yet, this way that seemed “right” left me with a deep sense of longing. The faith I had inherited from my parents, once a steady anchor, now felt irrelevant. Looking back, I was like a punctured balloon, drifting erratically and aimlessly until all the air spilled out. Christmas Eve 1976 was just another day of party hopping. In fact, I didn’t even realize it was Christmas Eve. As I made my way to the next stop, I suddenly felt the pressure of a sturdy hand on my shoulder — a bit unsettling, since I was all alone. Yet, I allowed it to guide me through the countryside and into the parking lot of a church preparing for a Christmas Eve service. I joined the flow of congregants entering the sanctuary. As I worshipped, I told myself, “I am supposed to be here.” From that night forward, I began attending worship regularly, and 50 years later, I hardly ever miss (my pastor can vouch for that!). My life today is still the best of times and the worst of times. It is the best of times because I have found the way that leads to new life, hope, and purpose. I have found where God wants us to be. Yet, it is the worst of times because I lament for those who are still lost, traveling down the road that seems right to them.… Read More
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The week of Thanksgiving is meant to be joyous. It’s a celebratory, anticipatory week that culminates in a big family gathering, filled with gratitude and nostalgia. On November 22, 2022, that’s exactly what I was anticipating. Then, I got a phone call that changed my life forever. It was my parents. They called to tell me that my older brother, Jason, had been in a helicopter crash off I-77 in Charlotte, NC. As a television meteorologist, Jason was in the air that morning learning the station’s new camera system. It was supposed to be a routine trip, but it turned into my family’s worst nightmare. Jason and the pilot both passed away in the crash. Instead of a Thanksgiving feast, we ate funeral casseroles around a dining table that had one seat too many. It was the worst week of our lives. We all grieved differently, but we grieved hard. Jason left behind the love of his life, my sister-in-law Jillian, along with their four teenage children. Nothing made sense, and everything hurt. We were shrouded in darkness, unable to take any next steps. For our family, it was a Good Friday moment. We’d suffered a terrible loss, but God doesn’t leave us by ourselves in that darkness. He walks alongside us, ever gentle, ever waiting, until Sunday comes. It didn’t happen in three days. It didn’t happen in three months. It will be three years this Thanksgiving, and we still have difficult days. But God has been working mightily on our hearts and in our lives. Since losing Jason, I’ve recommitted myself to making faith… Read More
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As a kid who lived on the streets of Uganda for almost five years, I know what it feels like to grow up in a world where love, caring, and kindness are nowhere to be found. But I was helped by the kindness of a stranger who brought me to the Lord. And wanting to change life’s path for kids that have been neglected, I have now fostered 47 children and adopted 6 kids, all as a single dad. I had a very abusive father; so abusive that I thought he would eventually kill me. This led me to run away from home at age 10, and I lived on the streets of Kampala for nearly five years. To the outside world, my dad was extremely religious. So for him to be so abusive was very confusing to me, and turned me off to all religion. It also created a lot of anger in me toward my dad. While I lived on the streets, the abuse continued from time to time, but since it wasn’t someone I knew, it just didn’t feel as bad. One day, a stranger gave me something to eat. I thought this would turn into another abusive situation. After all, everyone I knew that did something nice for me turned out to be hurtful. But I was hungry, so I took the meal. But there was no abuse. He continued to buy me lunch every week. Then he invited me to eat with his entire family. Again, I was skeptical since everyone who previously cared for me was abusive. I was that… Read More
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“If there is a god, he will have to beg my forgiveness.” Whether or not these words were found carved into the wall of a Nazi death camp, it is certainly how I felt trudging through the jungles of Vietnam in 1966. “Why would God permit such mayhem and horror?” I was told that God was good and loving, but I found no love or goodness in the rot of war. While I remained culturally tied to Christianity after returning to the United States, I was, for all intents and purposes, an atheist. My job as a police officer only reassured me of my convictions, as goodness and love were once again alien to my surroundings. As my resentments grew, my relationship faltered. To boot, I had a heart attack at the young age of 31! Utterly alone, worried, and depressed, I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a voice say, “You are not alone, I am with you!” To say these words changed my life would be a massive understatement. They led me to the scriptures, “life’s instruction manual,” as I like to call it. I learned that it was not God who needed my forgiveness, but I who needed God’s. As I confessed my sins, I discovered not only a forgiving God, but one who is not indifferent to the plight of human suffering. God himself, through the person of Jesus Christ, suffered for all humanity, giving us hope to find peace, not necessarily from hardship, but in hardship. Soon after my encounter with God, I met the woman who would become my wife… Read More






