As a young person, I wanted to know how the world works. People fascinated me—especially how they made decisions. That curiosity only deepened through my teen years and never really faded.
I came of age in the 1970s, when the Vietnam War hung over everything. Life felt chaotic—protests, psychedelic music, drugs, rebellion. The youth of America seemed to be shaking off every boundary at once. I found it all confusing. So much anger everywhere. I thought that was normal, that everyone else growing up in the Midwest must feel the same.
School came easily. I had a good memory, which helped me do well in class, in sports, and in band. I was a Boy Scout, joined Junior Achievement, and loved bowling more than books. My parents were ordinary, imperfect people raising ordinary, imperfect kids. I was fortunate, even if I didn’t see it that way then.
When I started my junior year, I transferred to a military school. I’d been in the same district since kindergarten, so it was a big change. The enrollment office told me if I took one extra class, I could graduate that year. I said yes.
Leaving Home for the Truth
My parents hadn’t pushed me to go—they simply gave me the option. They knew I’d been sheltered and needed to stretch. Military school fit my personality. I learned discipline, how to shine shoes until they gleamed, how to make a bed you could bounce a coin on. I made friends, graduated early, and went off to college while my old classmates were still in high school. I never reconnected with them. That’s a regret.
College was stop-and-start. I tried small business ventures and failed at a few. I still didn’t understand how the world worked. I was a rule-follower, but no one had handed me the rulebook.
I married during college and was separated before our first anniversary. That’s when I came face to face with my own spiritual brokenness.
Church had been on-again, off-again in my life. During that separation, my wife wanted to reconcile, but I was the one who left. One night, heavy in spirit, I called the most religious person I knew. She prayed with me, and something powerful happened. I can’t fully explain it, but I was changed in an instant.
I went to bed lighter than I’d ever felt and woke with a peace I couldn’t describe. I was different, and everyone could see it. Maybe I was saved, baptized in the Holy Spirit, or both—or maybe it was something else. I just knew it was real.
From that night on, I never turned back. I didn’t have all the answers, but I trusted that Jesus would reveal them in time. My wife and I reconciled. This year we celebrated forty-one years of marriage.
That same woman who prayed with me sent me a Bible. I couldn’t stop reading it. It became my first love. I filled it with 3×5 note cards covered in verses and thoughts. I wanted to remember where everything was, to understand what I was reading.
Early in my walk, I prayed to learn how to have faith. The answer that came was simple: believe what the Bible says. So I did. The more I read, the more I understood—and the more I understood, the more I wanted to know. My appetite for truth became insatiable.
God brought mature believers into my life who helped me grow. They were Pentecostal at first, then later I joined a charismatic church full of people who’d also experienced deep change. Each season added layers of understanding.
Over time, I realized that what I’d been searching for all along—the “rules” for how the world works—was found in God’s Word. I learned to read, pray, and wait for the Holy Spirit’s timing to teach me.
I had been looking for truth. And when I found it, I learned to love it.Truth must be guarded and refreshed constantly.It has been under attack since the beginning of mankind.Truth can never be defeated—but it can be forgotten.
Don’t be the one who forgets it.
The Unbeguiled — to seek what’s real, test what’s false, and learn together what cannot be shaken.