I didn’t come to God all at once. He revealed himself gradually until His mercy seemed the most natural thing in the world. I ran away for so long, and yet he kept chasing, only to finally meet me where I was. I’ve never been a perfect being, but I spent years believing I could be. I wasn’t raised with any particular belief system, but early on I discovered what theologians call the “God-shaped hole,” and spent years trying to fit square pegs into that hole.

As a student in high school and college, I bought the lie that Hollywood and popular music propagate that the love of another human being will make you complete and perfect. I spent most of those years lonely and over-eager, more than willing to let my latest crush take over all waking thoughts. When I flunked out of college due to that same eagerness, I returned home humbled and started voraciously reading pop-psych self-help books. Over and over, I was confronted with the idea that I could rely on no one but myself, that I could become “perfect” in my own power. That philosophy worked for a while, until I met a girl. We fell in love, and I moved in with her. Six months into our “healthy relationship,” I was dumped, and soon found my own apartment. Oh yeah, and I joined a rock band.

One of my bandmates introduced me to Joseph Campbell (via Carl Jung)’s idea that all religion was “mythology,” a story told to explain the deepest mysteries of the soul. This sparked my interest in “alternative” spiritual practices: tarot cards, dream journaling, astrology. My journey started to frustrate me, though – everywhere I turned, it seemed that my spiritual well being was up to me; that the power was within and I wasn’t tapping it properly.

Around this time, I first heard the music of DC Talk and Jars of Clay. Not coming from a Christian background, I didn’t understand a lot of their lyrics, but something in the music spoke to me. A co-worker invited me to join the cast of a musical based on Jesus’ parable of the rich man and the beggar. Looking back, I see how God was planting seeds in my life that would finally begin to grow once I reached a point of brokenness.

That brokenness occurred when I was evicted from my apartment and forced to move back in with my parents yet again. Shortly after returning home, I met the woman who would become my wife. I respected her for her strong Christian faith, and set out to learn as much as I could about the God that would inspire this kind of devotion. Countless quiet times and books on Christianity later, Jesus moved from being a “good idea” in my head, to taking residence in my heart. When I accepted Christ, my circumstances didn’t magically change, but they suddenly made sense. What struck me about the gospel was that I was not the one in control. My destiny didn’t depend on how well I could interpret symbolism or rid myself of desire. I had painted myself into a corner by choosing to take my destiny in my own hands. Jesus removed my burden, and replaced it with his love and grace, completely undeservedly.

For that I’m eternally grateful. Thank you, Lord, for your guiding hand and your loving heart.