[A Note: This is my testimony. It lives on the About Me page for new readers, but for those of you who have been here from the start and haven’t heard it, I wanted to make sure it reached you too.]
Growing Up Without an Anchor
I grew up in the Unitarian Universalism tradition, a merger in the 1960’s between the Unitarians and Universalists. Historically, the Unitarians rejected the Trinity and the divinity of Jesus, while the Universalists denied eternal hell and believed all would ultimately be saved.
Modern Unitarian Universalism emphasizes individual freedom of belief and personal spiritual development. It is non-dogmatic and non-creedal in structure, encouraging members to search, explore, and construct meaning for themselves within a pluralistic framework.
That freedom shaped me, but it also left me unanchored.
As I grew up, I wrestled constantly with questions of good and evil. If morality is subjective, what does “good” actually mean? I genuinely wanted to live a good life, yet as I entered young adulthood I began to see what happens when “good” becomes fluid. When culture defines it, redefines it, and discards yesterday’s definition, Scripture names what that actually is:
Judges 21:25b — “Everyone did what was right in his own eyes”.
At the time, I lived by a simple internal equation: as long as I did more good than bad, I would be fine. I did not concern myself much with eternity. Moral math felt sufficient. But the math only worked because I kept the variables vague. “Good” was my preference dressed up as principle. It was no more authoritative than anyone else’s, just more familiar to me. The equation balanced because I was the one holding the pencil. That approach collapsed once I became a father.
When Fatherhood Changed the Equation
Becoming a father forced a reckoning. I could not confidently teach my kids right and wrong if the foundation itself shifted with every cultural tide. Our family needed something fixed, durable, and independent of public opinion.
So I began looking outward. Who in society was holding their ground? Who was willing to draw moral lines even when it cost them socially? What I saw were Christians who refused to bend with every new moral fashion. They were imperfect, yet anchored. That steadiness encouraged me. At the same time, believing in Jesus felt impossible. I mean, it’s an idea more than 2,000 years old that I had long ago categorized as a relic of the ancient world. Still, something unexpected happened: I found that I wanted to believe it.
My wife and I began asking questions of two close friends who were committed Christians. We read apologists, watched debates, and the more I studied and thought critically, the harder it became to hold my old conclusions with the same confidence.
Eventually I made a deliberate decision: I would live as if Jesus were Lord and test that belief with my life. As I studied Scripture in search of unwavering moral principles, I found this from Paul:
Romans 12:2—“Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God.”
Those words resonated deeply. They spoke of transformation and renewal, not self-construction.
Another passage became a steady guide:
Proverbs 3:5–6— “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”
For decades I had leaned on my own understanding. Now I was being called to trust God’s wisdom instead.
With those Scriptures shaping my thinking, I asked Jesus to enter my life and give me faith. I asked Him to align my heart with His will, and throughout my days I began quietly asking myself, “What would Jesus do?”
Something shifted internally. That inner voice, the conscience God had written on my heart, had always been pointing the right direction. I had simply spent years pulling against it. As I began living as if Jesus were Lord, the resistance fell away. The low-level guilt and shame I had carried for years began to lift. I felt less enslaved to moral ambiguity and more instructed in my judgments. For the first time, I was moving with my conscience rather than against it. Over time the change became visible enough that my wife noticed it and told me so.
Our friends eventually invited us to their church. I was surprised by how quickly I felt at home there and even more surprised that I wanted to return the following Sunday. I had stopped attending church regularly in my mid-twenties, and by 43 I assumed my Sunday mornings were permanently reserved for relaxation and personal downtime. Instead, week after week, we kept going back. What once seemed like a sacrifice of free time became something I looked forward to.
August 16, 2023
On August 16, 2023, I prayed with clarity and conviction. I told Jesus that my belief was genuine, acknowledged my sin and my need for salvation, and surrendered my life to His will. I reaffirmed my commitment to live in a way that honored Him and asked Him to continue shaping my heart.
After that prayer, I wanted to anchor the date in Scripture, so I turned to the New Testament and stopped at the first 8:16 I came to, which was the Gospel of Luke. It reads,
Luke 8:16—“No one, after lighting a lamp, covers it with a jar or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a lampstand so that those who enter may see the light.”
That verse felt deeply personal. If Christ had lit a lamp in me, I was not meant to hide it. I was meant to live openly and honestly, allowing the change He had worked in me to be visible.
Why I’m Sharing This
I share this story because I know what it feels like to drift morally while believing you are thoughtful and sincere. I know what it is like to want goodness without a stable definition of it. I also know what it is like to view Christianity as outdated, only to discover that it offers a moral and spiritual foundation strong enough to build a life and a family upon.
As someone who values reason, encountering Christ did not require abandoning rational thought; it required reorienting it under the authority of truth rather than personal preference.
My hope is that anyone who reads this and finds themselves wrestling with similar questions would pursue those questions honestly and without fear. For me, opening myself to Christ led to transformation. I believe He still meets those who seek Him with an open heart.
On 01/14/2024, Amy and I were baptized. The moment begins around the 59:33 mark if you’d like to witness it.
