My Story (and why I built this site)

I used to read verses like that and think, “That’s nice… but not for me.” I didn’t know that God can be near even when your life feels like a wreck — and that “broken heart” is not a disqualifier. It’s often the doorway.

I was born into an alcoholic home. A lot of my early life was constant instability — the kind where your body learns to stay on alert, even when you’re sitting still.

There was abuse. First physical, then later (and sometimes worse) mental and emotional. Even after I turned 18, it didn’t just “end.” The pressure followed me into adulthood.

In my twenties, the mental abuse could show up like this: messages, calls, and reminders designed to make me feel like I was a bad person — like I didn’t belong, didn’t matter, and would never become anything.

When you grow up in that atmosphere, you start building survival skills: reading moods, scanning for danger, bracing for impact, expecting rejection. You can look fine on the outside while your inner world is constantly tense.

One of the clearest pictures I can give you is this: at 17, I lived in a tent for about nine months. That’s not a metaphor. That was my actual life.

When you’re in survival mode, you learn how to “push through.” You learn how to keep going with no safety net. And those skills can be useful — but they also come with a cost: you stop feeling safe, even when you’re safe.

I always knew there was a God. But knowing there is a God is not the same thing as surrendering to Jesus. For a long time, my faith was more like: “God exists… and I hope He doesn’t give up on me.”

When you’re carrying pain and tension for years, you eventually start searching for relief. For me, alcohol was part of that story.

Some people drink to celebrate. Some people drink to numb. I wasn’t chasing fun — I was chasing a quieter brain, a calmer nervous system, and a break from the pressure.

The problem is: what numbs you doesn’t heal you. It pauses pain for a moment, then hands you the bill later — often with interest.

I’m going to say this plainly: I didn’t need a self-improvement plan. I needed a rescue.

In 2023, I reached a point where I was done trying to manage my life my way. I surrendered to Jesus — not as an idea, not as a “church concept,” but as Lord. I asked Him to save me, cleanse me, take my life, and lead me.

That night, I prayed in the name of Jesus and renounced darkness. I cast out demons in the name of Jesus (not as a show, not for attention — as a desperate man who wanted to be free). And I felt something detach from me.

I know that can sound intense. I’m not trying to make it dramatic. I’m telling you what happened. I didn’t walk away feeling “religious.” I walked away feeling lighter.

Freedom didn’t mean I never had another battle. It meant the ownership changed. Jesus took authority in a place where I had been stuck for a long time.

The next day, something happened that I didn’t have language for. I felt steady. Clear. Clean. My reactions were different. My inner world was quieter. I wasn’t fighting the same internal storms.

I didn’t know what “the fruit of the Spirit” was yet. I just knew that something in me felt like peace and stability had replaced chaos.

I described what was happening to my wife — and that’s when I learned: what I was experiencing had a name. It was fruit.

That moment gave me hope I didn’t have before: maybe my story wasn’t “I’m broken forever.” Maybe my story could become: “Jesus changes people for real.”

I’m not proud of this, but it’s part of the story — and it might help someone.

After that initial breakthrough, I slipped up and drank a tall can. And what shocked me wasn’t just guilt. What shocked me was the contrast.

The fruit I had felt — the clarity, the peace, the steadiness — it was like I could feel it fade. And I realized something dangerous: I could become obsessed with chasing the “high” of the honeymoon moment instead of walking with Jesus.

I spent time trying to get the feeling back, trying to recreate the moment — instead of learning how Jesus builds something permanent.

That slip didn’t mean Jesus left me. It meant I was learning something I didn’t understand yet: early on, God sometimes gives powerful grace to show you what’s possible — and then He teaches you how to walk it out day by day.

After surrender, I still had battles. Sometimes the battles weren’t “out there.” They were inside my mind and body: racing thoughts, emotional waves, fear spikes, and that exhausting cycle of questioning everything.

One of the most painful battles was this: questioning my salvation. “Did I really mean it?” “What if I did it wrong?” “Why am I still struggling if I’m saved?”

If you’ve lived in that loop, I want to say this clearly: you’re not alone, and you’re not the first. That’s why I built pages like: How can I know I’m really saved? and Conviction vs shame.

I also had to learn that the nervous system is real. If you grew up in chaos, your body can react to normal life like it’s an emergency. That doesn’t make you “fake.” It means healing needs to go deeper than willpower.

That’s why this site has an Inner Healing lane and questions like: Why do my emotions flip so fast? and Why do I get intrusive or blasphemous thoughts?. I’m not trying to sound clinical. I’m trying to be honest about what it feels like when your inner world is loud.

Early on, Jesus gave me a taste of freedom that felt like a spiritual honeymoon: lightness, clarity, peace, strong desire for God. I didn’t even know what to call it. I just knew it was real.

But the deeper phase is different — and better. The deeper phase is when peace becomes more than a feeling. It becomes a foundation.

The deeper phase is when Jesus builds something solid in you: not “high on God” today and crushed tomorrow — but steady growth, steady repentance, steady healing, steady fruit.

I’m still learning. I’m still growing. But I know the direction now. And with Jesus, things get a little stronger, a little clearer, a little steadier — day by day.

I spent years searching for answers that were simple, honest, and Scripture-rooted — without religious games, without pressure, without pretending.

I needed someone to say: “You’re not crazy.” “Your mind battles don’t mean you’re unsaved.” “Jesus is not afraid of your questions.” “Healing is real — and it often comes in layers.”

That’s why the site is structured like a map:

• Start Here — if you’re overwhelmed and need the path.
• The Basics — if you need the foundations in plain language.
• Salvation Plan — if you need the Gospel made clear.
• What to Expect — if you’re new and everything feels intense.
• Real Questions — if you need answers for what you’re actually facing.
• Inner Healing — if your emotions and nervous system feel like a war zone.

Part of my story is business and technology. That’s not separate from Jesus. That’s one of the ways I can serve.

I run a company called Intangible Treasures. The point isn’t to “look successful.” The point is impact. I want to put tools in the hands of churches and ministries so they can reach more souls.

If you want to see that side of the work, you can visit: IntangibleTreasures.com

I’m not claiming I’ve been through everything you’ve been through. But I have lived in real chaos. I’ve lived in shame loops. I’ve lived in addiction cycles. I’ve lived in the “Am I even saved?” panic. I’ve lived in the mind-war.

That’s why this site is heavy on:

• plain language
• real-life patterns
• Scripture that anchors and clarifies
• practical next steps (not vague inspiration)

I want you to be able to breathe again — and then walk forward. Not with hype. With Jesus.

If you’re in a place where you need prayer or guidance (and you’re not in immediate danger), you can reach out here: Reach Out.

Jesus, You see the person reading this who feels tired, ashamed, confused, and stuck. You see the battles in their mind. You see the weight they carry. Please draw them to You. Give them clarity about salvation. Break chains that have held them. Heal what’s underneath the patterns. Replace panic with peace, and confusion with truth. Teach them to walk with You step by step — not in fear, not in performance, but in real relationship. In Jesus’ name, amen.