The Gospel of Jesus Christ

For a long time, I battled with myself, trying to unlock the strength within to bear things that were causing me to suffer: family struggles, broken relationships, my son's anger issues. I constantly wrestled with questions like "Am I good?" and "What is goodness actually?"

On August 2, 2022, my brother called to tell me my grandmother had died overnight. In the same call, he told me my grandfather was in the hospital—unresponsive, basically gone mentally. I was shaken to my core. This wasn't just about attending a funeral. My grandfather was dying, and I was racing against time to see him before it was too late.

I looked at my wife and said we needed to go to Illinois immediately. When she hesitated, worried about responsibilities at home, I was devastated. I needed to see my grandfather alive, to tell him I loved him, to say goodbye. My dad had already told me there was no point in coming, but I refused to accept that.

I went to the airport with my brother Joshua, but there were no flights available. So we rented a car and drove through the night to Illinois. I was fighting back tears the whole way, praying desperately that I would make it in time, that my grandfather would somehow feel my presence.

When we arrived at the hospital, only one person could visit at a time. I went alone to my grandfather's room. From a distance, I could see him sprawled on the bed, mouth hanging open. I hoped desperately that he would feel my presence, that something would trigger him to come back for just a second so I could tell him I loved him.

But he was already gone—not responsive, in a vegetative state. I sat on his bed and cried, unable to even touch him or make my presence known. I was absolutely powerless.

The days that followed in Illinois were marked by distance and disappointment. Family dynamics I had hoped would bring comfort instead brought pain. I tried to gather everyone together, but was met with rejection and misunderstanding. Even when my brother went missing after taking drugs, I was too hurt and cynical to help search for him.

Eventually, I just went home. My family didn't seem to need me there.

After returning home to Virginia, strange things began happening that I can't dismiss as coincidence. I believe God was revealing Himself to me through these events.

I was heading to a convenience store when the news caught my attention. They were talking about "sonic inflation"—basically saying the economic situation was much worse than anyone wanted to admit. My jaw dropped. I thought to myself, "Perhaps God doesn't really exist, or perhaps He's already lost control of what's happening on earth."

Still wrestling with those thoughts, I bought my cigarettes and left to meet my brother at McDonald's. As I walked, I saw a man fumbling with a bag of food. When I got closer, he stood up, looked me in the eyes, and said, "God got it."

I kept walking, but he turned around and said it again: "God got it." I thought, could this be a coincidence? I turned to look once more, and this time he had stopped walking completely, turned fully around, and said it a third time: "God got it."

That was definitely strange—this man seemingly answering the exact questions buzzing around in my head.

Another day, my wife and I went to a park she really loved. As we were leaving, she spotted a beautiful praying mantis on the walkway. I got down in front of it to take a picture, and as I focused the camera, it turned its head and looked right at the lens. I captured a stunning photograph.

Moments later, a man pushing his son in a stroller started exiting the park. I called out, "Hey, watch out! There's a praying mantis here!" Either he didn't hear me or was ignoring me—strange, because I'm not a quiet person. I started to yell again, "Hey, watch out—" but before I could finish, he ran the mantis over with his stroller. It leapt out of the way but looked injured. Meaningless evil, injustice at a strange time.

Around this time, my brother met an older man at the McDonald's where he worked. They developed a friendship, and the man invited him to his house to help with something on his computer. It turned out this man was very wealthy, with expensive things throughout his home. For my brother, who had a troubled past, this was a real temptation.

The man came over to our house in Virginia, and at first he seemed nice. Then he shared a rough draft of a fiction novel he was writing. The premise was dark and sexual. The timing felt spiritual—this darkness appearing just as other strange things were happening.

That same day, I took my two-year-old son Rowan to the park. On our way home, I encountered a homeless woman I had met weeks earlier at the metro station. She was the kind of person who terrorized strangers—I'd watched her make people flee in fear, and she'd told me wild stories about aliens and secret clearances. I found her fascinating.

Before I could even greet her, she interrupted me and pointed, saying, "There's a man being beaten for no reason! They're beating him, and he hasn't done anything wrong!"

I stepped forward and saw three young men brutally beating a defenseless man in broad daylight—punching, kicking, stomping on his head. When he fell to the ground, they kept beating him. Then they just casually walked away.

I was scared because I had my son with me. I wanted to help the man but was afraid to leave Rowan alone. I felt utterly powerless again.

After witnessing all these things—the stranger answering my doubts with "God got it," the praying mantis crushed, the wealthy man's dark novel, the man being beaten while I stood powerless—I was sitting alone in my car in front of my apartment when it happened.

I came to a realization that God was real and I could feel His presence. At the same time, I started thinking of my sin, and I was crying hysterically. The stinging, burning sensation in my throat, the world spinning—I was absolutely undone.

From there, I went inside and started reading a Bible app on my phone. I started with the book of Revelation, and I was enamored with it. I actually was believing.

For the next couple of days, I was filled with joy, excitement, and wonder. I was even able to stop smoking cigarettes immediately—though it only lasted two or three days before temptation returned. But in those moments, I experienced something I had never felt before: freedom.

It has been a rough three years since that moment. It has definitely not been all sunshine and rainbows. I've been struggling a lot with sin, and there have been many ups and downs.

But I know now that I am a child of God, and I believe what Scripture says about me. I've learned that God doesn't call the qualified—He qualifies the called. He doesn't wait for us to clean ourselves up before He saves us. He meets us in our brokenness, in our powerlessness, in our absolute inability to save ourselves.

The work we do with Free Full Hands Foundation flows directly from this reality. Just as God pursued me when I was lost, we pursue the lost and broken in Uganda. Just as He provided for me in my spiritual poverty, we provide for children in their physical need. And just as He continues to sanctify me daily, we trust Him to work in and through our ministry for His glory.