New Birth

Imagine the awful inconvenience of being declared dead by the United States Government. Consider this true story:

Susan and Darby Nye of Arlington, Virginia, have been married for 30 years and were looking forward to many more in retirement when Susan started receiving condolences from various federal agencies regarding the death of her husband. But there was one big problem: Darby was alive and well.

It started when Darby’s purchase at a pharmacy was declined. He called to find out why. “Well, they said the Social Security Administration has informed us that you are dead,” he said.

When someone dies, they’re supposed to be put on the Death Master File. The Social Security Administration uses the death data to terminate benefit payments and report deaths to other agencies. But one typo can mistakenly declare someone dead, digging a grave that buries them along with their finances.

Darby’s plight as a categorized deceased person is not singular: it is estimated that every year, some 12,200 U.S. citizens are declared dead by the Social Security Administration due to "keystroke errors." Those affected become like the walking dead, unable to secure a job, make financial transactions, file taxes, or visit the doctor, and for months on end, must endure the nightmare of convincing a large bureaucracy that they haven't yet bit the dust.

Possible Preaching Angle:
Being declared legally dead is a terrible inconvenience for people in our society. But being declared legally dead to sin is a tremendous blessing for believers that promises incredible freedom and hope.

In an interview in Esquire magazine, actor Denzel Washington said, “The biggest moment of my life was when I was filled with the Holy Spirit. It happened in the West Angeles Church of God in Christ, Crenshaw Boulevard, Los Angeles.” He went on to describe what it’s like to follow Jesus today, especially in the ethos of Hollywood:

Things I said about God when I was a little boy, just reciting them in church along with everybody else, I know now. God is real. God is love. God is the only way. God is the true way. God blesses. It’s my job to lift God up, to give Him praise, to make sure that anyone and everyone I speak to the rest of my life understands that He is responsible for me. When you see me, you see the best I could do with what I’ve been given by my Lord and Savior. I’m unafraid. I don’t care what anyone thinks. See, talking about the fear part of it—you can’t talk like that and win Oscars. You can’t talk like that and party. You can’t say that in this town.

I’m free now. [Faith in Jesus] is not talked about in this town. It’s not talked about… It’s not fashionable. It’s not sexy… But my faith has always informed the roles I choose. Always… Even in the darkest stories, I’m looking for the light.

Changes in personality following a heart transplant have been noted pretty much ever since transplants began. In one case, a person who hated classical music developed a passion for the genre after receiving a musician’s heart. The recipient later died holding a violin case.

In another case, a 45-year-old man remarked how, since receiving the heart of a 17-year-old boy, he loves to put on headphones and listen to loud music — something he had never done before the transplant.

What might explain this? One suggestion could be that this is a placebo effect where the overwhelming joy of receiving a new lease on life gives the person a sunnier disposition. However, there is some evidence to suggest that these personality changes aren’t all psychological. Biology may play a role, too.

The heart transplant seems to be most commonly associated with personality changes. The chambers release peptide hormones which help regulate the balance of fluid in the body by affecting the kidneys. They also play a role in electrolyte balance and inhibiting the activity of the part of our nervous system responsible for the fight-or-flight response. The cells in charge of this are in the hypothalamus — a part of the brain that plays a role in everything from homeostasis (balancing biological systems) to mood.

So, the donor organ, which may have a different base level of hormones and peptide production from the original organ, could change the recipient’s mood and personality through the substances it releases.

We know that cells from the donor are found circulating in the recipient’s body, and donor DNA is seen in the recipient’s body two years after the transplant. This again poses the question of where the DNA goes and what actions it may have.

Whichever mechanism, or combination of mechanisms, is responsible, this area of research warrants further investigation so that recipients can understand the physical and psychological changes that could occur following surgery.

Possible Preaching Angle:

This phenomenon is still unproven medically, but what is certain is that before salvation each of us had a desperately sick heart (Jer. 17:9). But by the process of regeneration, God implanted a new heart (Ezek. 36:26, Ezek. 11:19; Psa. 51:10-12; 2 Cor 5:17). This gradually and radically changes a believer’s personality to reflect the Christlike qualities of a new nature (Eph. 4:22-24). With a new heart, a Christian will begin to show unconditional love, kindness, and forgiveness. They become less focused on themselves and exhibit simple acts of servanthood toward others.

Harvie Conn was a missionary in Korea. And Harvie was trying to reach prostitutes for Christ. And in the Asian culture, prostitutes had a far lower status than prostitutes do in other societies. And Harvie couldn’t break through, because when he offered the love of Christ, they said, ‘sorry, Christ would never have anything to do with me. You don’t understand. I am an absolute…I’m scum.’ Finally, one day Harvie said, “Let me tell you the doctrine of predestination. Let me tell you the doctrine of election.”

‘Our God doesn’t love you because you’re good…doesn’t love you because you’re moral… doesn’t love you because you’re humbler…doesn’t love you because you’re surrendered. He actually just chooses people and sets His love on you and loves you just because He loves you. That’s how you’re saved.’

And the prostitute said, ‘What?!!

Harvie: ‘Yes!!”

She said, ‘You mean He just loves people like that?’

Harvie: ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, how do I know if He loves me?’

Then Harvie said, ‘When I tell you the story of Jesus dying for you, does that move you?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Do you want Him?’ ‘Yeah!’ ‘You aren’t capable of wanting Him IF He wasn’t wanting you! You aren’t capable of loving Him unless He was loving you.’ And Harvie found that prostitutes started coming to Christ because they got a radical new cultural identity

Editor’s Note: You can access the entire sermon here

Every year, Christians of various denominations observe Lent, a six-week period ahead of Easter, where participants "give something up" while pursuing a closer relationship with God. Usually, when someone decides what they will be giving up, they will pick a habit, food, or hobby that they enjoy enough that it will be significantly missed throughout the period of Lent. That way, its absence is extremely noticeable (and even a little uncomfortable) as they make such a substantial shift in their typical day-to-day. Then, the yearning for what has been given up works as a reminder to turn to God and recognize how He truly meets all needs.

For those who observe Lent annually, it can be challenging to think of new ideas of what they will give up each winter. Trying to figure out what you'll be giving up for Lent this year? Here are 10 meaningful things to give up for Lent:

1. Complaining – Take the opportunity to choose gratitude over grumbling.

2. Sweet treats – It will help your health and be a reminder that only God truly sustains us.

3, Television – Stop the small screen binge and grow in your spiritual life instead.

4. Screen Time – Spend less time checking friends’ updates and check in with Christ.

5. Gossiping – It’s easy to insult or judge others. Instead, tame your tongue biblically.

6. Video games – Instead of fantasy worlds of adventure, read the real-life stories of the Bible.

7. Shopping – Decide not to store up treasures in your closet, but store them up in heaven.

8. Coffee – Instead of facing the world with caffeine, learn to rely on God.

9. Soda – Every time you think about grabbing that fizzy drink, use it as a reminder to pray.

10. Worrying – You can’t stop worry completely, but choose to go to God with it instead.

Possible Preaching Angles:

This a good way to set up a sermon on Lent or spiritual disciplines.

Jennifer Nizza grew up on grew up on Long Island, New York, as part of an Italian and culturally Catholic family. For her, Christmas was mainly about Santa Claus, antipasto, and pretty lights on houses. However, her understanding of spirituality was limited to the supernatural realm, shaped by conversations about ghosts and early experiences with tarot cards.

At age 13, the door to demons was thrown wide open. a tarot card reading ignited a fascination with the occult. Jennifer delved deeper into this world, experiencing fear and discomfort as she felt the presence of demonic forces. Seeking answers, she consulted a psychic medium who claimed Jennifer was a medium herself, gifted with the ability to connect with the departed.

She writes, “But the further I went down that road, the more it seemed demons were surrounding me and I experienced so many moments of fear. I felt them touching me, and I could see them manifesting as shadowy figures and animals.

Jennifer loved the thought of helping clients attain the desires of their heart and communicate with their loved ones. But she lived in constant fear of bad spirits and what they would do to her. She said:

In my mid-30s, at a moment of especially intense fear, I suddenly cried out the name of Jesus Christ. Not my spirit guide or a deceased person or an angel—Jesus! Almost immediately I felt a peace that surpasses all understanding (Phil. 4:7). This began my journey to full Christian faith. And I had no idea what the gospel was. But I knew I didn’t want to be a psychic anymore.

Ten months later, a chance encounter with a friend who was attending a Bible-based church sparked Jennifer's curiosity. Despite initial hesitation, a few weeks later she felt a strong desire to visit the church. She shares:

I was singing along with the worship music when the lyrics “Jesus saved me” flashed on the screen, instantly transporting me back to the moment I had cried out to Jesus Christ. I started crying with joy, because I knew in my heart that he saved me.

Filled with joy and newfound conviction, I sought to understand the Bible's teachings on my profession. I didn’t have a Bible on hand, so I asked Google, “What does the Bible say about psychic mediums?” And I was shocked to find verses like Deuteronomy 18:9–13, which condemn anyone who “practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or . . . consults the dead.” Since Jesus had saved me, I would have to pick up my cross and follow him, even at the cost of quitting my job.

In the ten years since, Jesus has changed my heart and my life as only he can. I am no longer caught in the hamster wheel of endlessly seeking peace, joy, and fulfillment without finding them. Today, I continue to share the gospel whenever I can, in part by devoting myself to exposing the demonic darkness I served for many years and warning others against following the same path.

Editor’s Note: Today Jennifer Nizza is a speaker and Christian content creator. She is the author of From Psychic to Saved .

Rosaria Champagne Butterfield was a leftist lesbian professor, who despised Christians. Then somehow, she became one. She shares her testimony in an issue of CT magazine.

Professor Rosaria Butterfield hated and pitied Christians. She thought Christians and their god Jesus were stupid and pointless. She used her post as a professor of English and women’s studies to advance the allegiances of a leftist lesbian professor. She and her partner shared many vital interests: AIDS activism, children’s health and literacy, and the Unitarian Universalist church.

She began researching the Religious Right and their politics of hatred against queers like her. To do this, she would need to read the Bible, the book she believed had gotten many people off track. She then began her attack by writing an article in the local newspaper about Promise Keepers.

The article generated many rejoinders … some hate mail, others were fan mail. But one letter I received defied this filing system. It was from the pastor of the Syracuse Reformed Presbyterian Church. It was a kind and inquiring letter. Pastor Ken Smith encouraged me to explore the kind of questions I admire: How did you arrive at your interpretations? How do you know you are right? Do you believe in God? Ken didn’t argue with my article; rather, he asked me to defend the presuppositions that undergirded it. I didn’t know how to respond to it, so I threw it away.

Later that night, I fished it out of the recycling bin and put it back on my desk. With the letter, Ken initiated two years of bringing the church to a heathen. Oh, I had seen my share of Bible verses on placards at Gay Pride marches and Christians who mocked me on Gay Pride Day. That is not what Ken did. He did not mock. He engaged. So, when his letter invited me to get together for dinner, I accepted. Surely this will be good for my research.

Something else happened. Ken and his wife, Floy, and I became friends. They entered my world. They met my friends. We talked openly about sexuality and politics. They did not act as if such conversations were polluting them. When we ate together, Ken prayed in a way I had never heard before. His prayers were intimate. Vulnerable. He repented of his sin in front of me. He thanked God for all things. Ken’s God was holy and firm, yet full of mercy.

I started reading the Bible. I read the way a glutton devours. I read it many times that first year. At a dinner gathering my transgendered friend J cornered me in the kitchen. She warned, “This Bible reading is changing you, Rosaria.” With tremors, I whispered, “J, what if it is true? What if Jesus is a real and risen Lord? What if we are all in trouble?”

I continued reading the Bible, all the while fighting the idea that it was inspired. Then, one Sunday morning, I … sat in a pew at the Syracuse Reformed Presbyterian Church. Conspicuous with my butch haircut, I reminded myself that I came to meet God, not fit in. The image that came in like waves, of me and everyone I loved suffering in hell, gripped me in its teeth.

Then, one ordinary day, I came to Jesus. Jesus triumphed. And I was a broken mess. Conversion was a train wreck. I did not want to lose everything that I loved. But the voice of God sang a sanguine love song in the rubble of my world. I weakly believed that if Jesus could conquer death, he could make right my world. I rested in private peace, then community, and today in the shelter of a covenant family, where one calls me “wife” and many call me “mother.”

Editor’s Note: Rosaria Champagne Butterfield is the author of The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert (Crown & Covenant). She lives with her family in Durham, North Carolina, where her husband pastors the First Reformed Presbyterian Church of Durham.

Controversial activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali became well known when she published her 2007 memoir Infidel, which was an account of her life as a Muslim woman and her fight against radical Islam. She made headlines worldwide when she converted to atheism, receiving numerous death threats. In November 2023, she announced her conversion to Christianity. Her reasons address in part what is happening in the world today. She writes:

Atheists were wrong when they said rejection of God would usher in a new age of reason and intelligent humanism. But the 'God hole'—the void left by the retreat of the church—has merely been filled by a jumble of irrational, quasi-religious dogma. The result is a world where modern cults prey on the dislocated masses, offering them spurious reasons for being and action. This is mostly by engaging in virtue-signaling theater on behalf of a victimized minority or our supposedly doomed planet. The line often attributed to G.K. Chesterton has turned into a prophecy: 'When men choose not to believe in God, they do not thereafter believe in nothing, they then become capable of believing in anything.'

In this nihilistic vacuum, the challenge before us becomes civilizational. We can’t withstand China, Russia, and Iran if we can’t explain to our populations why it matters that we do. We can’t fight woke ideology if we can’t defend the civilization that it is determined to destroy. And we can’t counter Islamism with purely secular tools. To win the hearts and minds of Muslims here in the West, we have to offer them something more than videos on TikTok.

The lesson I learned from my years with the Muslim Brotherhood was the power of a unifying story, embedded in the foundational texts of Islam, to attract, engage, and mobilize the Muslim masses. Unless we offer something as meaningful, I fear the erosion of our civilization will continue. And fortunately, there is no need to look for some New Age concoction of medication and mindfulness. Christianity has it all.

By the year 2000, Judge John Phillips had long since lost count of the number of minors he had sent through the California penitentiary system for crimes committed during a violent and hopeless adolescence. He said on one occasion, “You send these young people to prison, and they learn to become harder criminals.”

In 2003, he set out to find a better way—to get kids in an environment of support where they could pass through these difficult years with a hand on their shoulder. Phillips started Rancho Cielo in the town of Salinas, ironically using an old juvenile detention center.

Rancho Cielo has a wide variety of programs, much of which is hands-on and kinetic, from the carpentry and construction program and vintage car repair, to beekeeping and equestrian care. Experts and industry professionals frequent Rancho Cielo to share their knowledge; like Tom Forgette who teaches the auto and diesel repair shop, and Laura Nicola, co-manager of the ranch restaurant, whose other job is at the James Beard Award-winning La Bicyclette.

“Upstairs,” traditional high school level classes are held for academic topics like writing and mathematics, usually to prepare students for a GED or community college admission. This is paired with additional preparatory courses like resume and cover letter writing and interview skills.

17-year-old Omar Amezola said, “In my other school, it was all reading and writing. Here the teachers are more chill, you don’t have to stay in your seat all day, you can do things that are hands-on—it’s cool.”

Each year, 220 students attend Rancho Cielo. While some don’t make it, 84.8% of first-time offenders who enroll at Rancho Cielo never re-offend, compared to the 40% recidivism rate in the county. Even with all the tutoring, diversity, and infrastructure, it costs just $25,000 to put a kid through Rancho Cielo, compared to the $110,000 it costs to house them in prison.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Grace; Judgement; Justice; Mercy – There is only endless punishment when God judges the guilty for their sins. But through his redemptive grace, he offers hope, a new life, and a new beginning to those who come to him in faith in Christ.

Former abortion doctor Patti Giebenk tells the following story about the woman who prayed her into a lifechanging encounter with Jesus:

During my lengthy conversion from pro-choice to pro-life, there was a person who prayed for me repeatedly. She was a prayer warrior I’d never met, but God heard her special prayer for me. It was the prayer of Sister Josita. Throughout her life, Sister Josita advocated for the poor, the refugee, and the vulnerable.

After Sister Josita heard that Dr. Giebink did abortions, she started praying for her—for over ten years. Then Dr. Giebink met Christ and stopped doing abortions. She joined a local church in South Dakota, and started treating poor women around the globe, but no longer doing abortions. After returning from one of her many trips to, she received the following letter:

Dear Doctor Giebink,

May your Christmas be blessed and the New Year filled with joy.

You don’t know me ... I want to thank you for your courage to speak out for life, and ... to bring an end to abortion. When I saw you on television, I was so proud of you to publicly state that you used to perform abortions for Planned Parenthood in Sioux Falls and now you support life instead. When I first heard that you were performing abortions, I began lifting you up in prayer. I do not believe abortion is right, or a solution to an unwanted pregnancy. I have prayed for you, by name, that one day your heart would be touched, and you would discontinue performing abortions. I thank God for you, and I continue to pray for you.

Patti Giebink concludes this story with the following words:

Sister Josita still prays for me. We write regularly, and I’ve visited her twice. She turned ninety this year, and she’s still a vibrant and dynamic warrior. Her initial intervention for me—just a name and a face—moved celestial mountains, making way for my future legacy of life. May we all stay on our knees until the answer comes, just as Sister Josita did.

In her book Atheists Finding God: Unlikely Stories of Conversions to Christianity in the Contemporary West, Jana Harmon explored why atheists came to faith in Christ. One big factor included the kindness of Christians. Harmon writes:

Nearly two-thirds of the former atheists I spoke with thought they would never leave their atheistic identity and perspective. They were not looking for God or interested in spiritual conversations. So, what breached their walls of resistance? ... Something [disrupted their] status quo.

She shares one story about how some Christians became the catalyst that disrupted the atheistic worldview by Christlike kindness:

Jeffrey became an atheist following a childhood tragedy where he lost two brothers in a house fire. His deep pain fueled a vitriolic hatred against God and instability in his own life. During the next 20 years, he developed strong arguments to support his emotional resistance to belief. When his wife unexpectedly became a Christian, his anger against God only grew.

One evening his wife called and asked him to pick her up at the home of the Christians who had led her to Christ. Jeffrey was expecting a heated exchange, but instead received warm hospitality. Feeling valued, he was drawn back again and again toward meaningful conversation. Over time, his walls of resistance began to melt, friendship and trust developed, and intellectual questions were answered. Eventually, he lost his resistance to God and found the peace and joy that had long eluded him.

Saving faith is not mere knowledge of Scripture or of Christ. Treating it like that is like treating a prescription as a medicine, or a signpost as a destination. It fails to see the difference between two types of knowledge: A detached “outward” knowledge and a personally involved “inward” knowledge.

C.S. Lewis found this distinction indispensable and illustrated it in his essay titled “Meditation in a Toolshed.” In this excerpt he wrote:

I was standing today in the dark toolshed. The sun was shining outside and through the crack at the top of the door there came a sunbeam. From where I stood that beam of light, with the specks of dust floating in it, was the most striking thing in the place. Everything else was almost pitch black. I was seeing the beam, not seeing things by it.

Then I moved, so that the beam fell on my eyes. Instantly the whole previous picture vanished. I saw no toolshed, and (above all) no beam. Instead I saw, framed in the irregular cranny at the top of the door, green leaves moving on the branches of a tree outside and beyond that, 90 odd million miles away, the sun. Looking along the beam, and looking at the beam are very different experiences.

Possible Preaching Angle:

What we see depends upon where we are standing. Any person can learn something about Christianity from the outside, e.g., by reading the Bible, studying what Christians believe, and examining the life of Christ. These are good things. It is important to remember, however, that a Christian is someone who has been born again, and knows God personally as Savior and Lord “from the inside.”

In an issue of Christianity Today, Glenn Pearson shares the story of his journey to faith:

You’re probably familiar with the popular arcade game called Whac-A-Mole, where mechanical moles randomly pop out of their holes while you try whacking them with a mallet before they retreat. I grew up in a “reverse Whac-A-Mole” world, feeling like the only mole in a family of mallets.

All the men in my family had significant issues. When I was 12, my dad left our family. He withheld both financial and emotional support, and he rejected or mocked conventional displays of affection. In Matthew 7:9, Jesus asks, “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?” Well, I have someone I can nominate.

But my dad wasn’t the only disaster in our family. When my grandfather was in his 60s, he decided he had cancer, so one day he jumped in front of a speeding train at a railroad crossing. His was not our family’s sole suicide. My brother suffered from schizophrenia and manic depression. After spending most of the last 20 years of his life in and out of mental hospitals, he hanged himself. My mother’s side didn’t escape dysfunction either. Her father had an emotional breakdown and spent several months in a hospital for indigents. There wasn’t a healthy man anywhere in sight.

Religion played almost no role in my family. But deep down I knew that something was wrong in my life, which led me to dabble in occult practices like astrology, séances, and white magic.

During my sophomore year of college, I stumbled into a campus Christian meeting and heard the gospel for the first time. As the presenter spoke, the Holy Spirit burned two realizations into my heart: that this “new thing” was 100 percent true, and that I would be a part of it. That night, even though I knew almost nothing about the theology of salvation, I brushed aside my intellectual skepticism and eagerly made a commitment to Jesus.

Over the next few months, I became increasingly involved with a couple of campus Christian groups. I was impressed by how “together” the members seemed and by the quality of their relationships. I also began applying my intellectual curiosity to questions surrounding the Bible’s reliability. I discovered far more support for the intellectual integrity of the Christian faith than I had ever supposed.

Years ago, I visited a counselor hoping to piece together the complexities of my background. After hearing parts of my story, he commented, “There is no explanation for you. In my professional opinion, someone with your background should be unemployable, divorced three times, abusive, an alcoholic, or some other kind of addict. The fact that you’re none of these things is a testimony to God’s incredible grace.”

In recent years, I’ve established one-on-one mentoring relationships with about two dozen younger men. I just try to understand their circumstances, communicate that I’m on their side, and point them to practical insights rooted in Scripture and tempered by real-life experience. Essentially, I’m offering these men something I never had. It’s just one way God continually uses what could have been a curse on my life to bring blessing to others

Editor’s Note: Glenn E. Pearson spent 19 years as executive vice president of the Georgia Hospital Association. He and his wife currently live outside Los Angeles.

Evangelicalism is now the largest religious demographic in Central America, according to a poll of about 4,000 people in five countries. More than a third of people from Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica told researchers that they are evangelical, while another 29 percent said they are “nondenominational believers.”

Only about a third of people in the region said they were Catholic—down from about 60 percent in the 1970s. Some scholars have attributed the shift to internal Catholic conflict and the long fallout from the church’s political affiliations on the extreme right and left, along with the disruptions of urbanization.

Evangelical theologian Samuel Escobar, noting the trend in an interview in 2006, said Catholics who moved to Central American cities found empowerment in their evangelical conversion. He said, “Their decision to accept Christ meant a change in patterns of behavior which helped people to reorient their lives.”

In an issue of CT magazine, Megan Hill tells her unremarkable conversion story which initially left her with doubts of its genuineness.

Megan has no memory of becoming a Christian. She says, “I didn’t pray a prayer, or walk down an aisle, or have a eureka moment. My Christian testimony of how I came to faith, is downright boring.”

She was raised by godly Presbyterian parents, gave thanks before meals, and recited prayers at bedtime from the children’s catechism. Church attendance shaped the weekly rhythms of her life. By the time she was age three or four she embraced the knowledge that God was her Creator, Jesus was her Savior, the Spirit was her helper, and the Bible was her rule. Megan writes, “But it took me most of my life to appreciate just how extraordinary was the grace I had received in ordinary circumstances.”

In fifth grade, I began to attend a school where dramatic testimonies were a regular part of morning chapel. Week after week, speakers—a drug addict, a party girl, an atheist—told of God’s rescue. But I am baffled that I never once heard a testimony like my own. And so I began to fear that I hadn’t really been saved … at all. Perhaps I was floating on other people’s convictions, happily living in a Christian environment without actually being a Christian.

Yet I was thankful for the church that had validated my testimony. In December 1989, I approached the elders of the church and asked to become a member. They, who had heard all kinds of stories from all kinds of people, declared my testimony to be a work of God. A few weeks later, I stood in front of the congregation and received the right hand of fellowship from those who had been lost but now were found. My testimony may have been boring, but it was welcomed. And I was also thankful for grace.

It wasn’t until I became a parent, at 27, that I began to see that in all testimonies, it is not the outward circumstances that are amazing. It’s the grace. There is no dull salvation. The Son of God took on flesh to suffer and die, purchasing a people for his glory. As Gloria Furman writes, “The idea that anyone’s testimony of blood-bought salvation could be uninteresting or unspectacular is a defamation of the work of Christ.”

For myself, I cannot point to a specific day of spiritual awakening. I can point only to my Lord, who says, “All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37). My Jesus, I come. Every day in need of grace. And I find myself not cast out.

Eduardo Rocha shares his dramatic testimony in an issue of CT magazine:

It was March 13, 1986, I was all alone and getting high. But I had also gotten drunk on fantasies of somehow becoming a drug kingpin at age 18. Earlier that night, I had left my brother’s house to deliver 4.5 ounces of cocaine to one of his customers. I hadn’t noticed the headlight out on Dad’s 1978 Plymouth Volare, but the New York state trooper sure did. After pulling me over, he also noticed that I was driving under the influence, not to mention the lump protruding from the left pocket of my leather jacket.

I was young and naïve, clueless about what lay ahead. But the stark reality caught up with me later as I sat in a cold cell at the Orange County Jail, where I wrapped a bed sheet from an old cot around my neck and began tightening it. Death seemed like the only way out of this mess. I was trapped. Hopeless. Finished.

As the sheet got tighter, the world started fading away. But just before succumbing to the darkness, I heard a voice in my native Spanish: “Eduardo, no lo hagas. Hay esperanza para tu vida.” (“Eduardo, don’t do it. There is hope for your life.”) That sweet, soft voice saved my life that day. After hearing the voice that stopped me from killing myself, I said, “God, if that’s really you, please help me.”

Eduardo was facing a sentence of 15 years to life in prison. When a guard gave him a Bible, he started reading the Gospels. He was captivated by the stories of Jesus—how he would speak to people in great need and meet those needs in miraculous ways. But the verse that made the deepest impression was 2 Corinthians 5:17, where Paul promises that “if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” And so, at a church meeting in the jail’s gymnasium, on October 6, 1986, he surrendered to the love of Christ, accepting his offer to be his Lord and Savior.

In a sequence of seemingly miraculous events, his sentence was reduced and he became eligible for parole after just three years. In March of 1989, Eduardo was released but he was immediately taken into custody by an immigration official. He was deported back to Uruguay (where he had been born) and banned from returning.

Over the next 21 years Eduardo never gave up his goal of returning to the US. While he waited, he attended Bible college and began preaching. He married and started a family, but the US Embassy in Uruguay denied his repeated requests to immigrate to the US. Finally, after writing an extensive letter to the US attorney general, he received a pardon from the State Department and a tourist visa was approved.

He returned to the United States in 2010, and connected with a church near Nashville. In 2012, this church hired him as the pastor of an on-campus Hispanic church. Over time the Tennessee Department of Correction hired him to serve as psychiatric chaplain in a maximum-security prison.

In January of 2022, God finally granted my fervent wish for full US citizenship. That sweet voice that cared enough to whisper encouragement into my prison cell still cares deeply for me now. Life has not been easy, but I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good, even to those who make terrible mistakes like mine.

Editor’s Note: Today Eduardo Rocha is a corporate chaplain for Charter Construction in Tennessee and a military chaplain for the Tennessee State Guard.

Rock and Roller Benjamin Budde grew up a small-town country boy in Ohio in a Christian home. He often heard the gospel and remembers asking Jesus into his heart on several occasions, but it wasn’t out of genuine faith.

What he wanted, more than anything, was to be special. He loved music and viewed it as his ticket to belonging. When his church needed a bass player, he was quick to fill the part. But eventually, he started to jam outside of the church, where people drank alcohol and smoked more than cigarettes. Before long, he joined in this new lifestyle. Learning about the drug-fueled exploits of his favorite musicians, he figured that drinking and drugging would help him become a more creative songwriter.

After turning 18, I got in trouble with the law for drinking, which got me kicked out of the church band. That was when I started playing in bars and nightclubs. As the shows grew bigger, so did my habit of drinking and getting high.

As I turned 20, my life began turning numb. On Christmas day, we found out that my mom had breast cancer, and nine months later she died. On the day of her funeral, I got a bag of dope and a bottle of whiskey and jammed all night, wondering how my Jesus-loving mom could have suffered such an unjust fate. I cursed God for it and decided I didn’t want to believe anymore.

By now his addiction was raging out of control. For nearly 10 years, he was popping pills, consuming whiskey like water, and snorting or smoking anything that would get him higher. Budde was in the process of losing himself, his friends, and eventually almost everything he had. It was hardly unusual for him to fall off the stage during a show because of his drugged stupor.

He met Arthur Williams, a blues harp player who had performed with some of the greatest blues legends like B.B. King and Muddy Waters. Through him he met and opened for legendary Chuck Berry, credited by many as the father of rock and roll.

I was over-the-moon excited to meet these icons. But the experience changed me in ways I didn’t expect. As I looked into their eyes, I somehow realized that music wouldn’t ever fill my emptiness. Meanwhile, my addiction deepened. Almost every night I blacked out and woke up in my own filth.

At the bottom of this downward spiral, I called a longtime friend, Missy. I told her I was sick. She spoke life into me! Sharing the gospel, she told me that Jesus has a plan and purpose for my life, but that I needed to quit drinking and drugging.

Lying on a borrowed couch in an apartment with no electricity, he looked through the only thing left from his childhood—a green tub of odds and ends. There sat his mom’s Bible, with the cover her handwriting all over it.

I started reading my mom’s Bible, turning to the Book of Proverbs because that’s what my dad would read to us growing up. Many passages grabbed my attention. “Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has strife? Who has complaints? Who has needless bruises? Who has bloodshot eyes?” (23:29). That was me, for sure. But the verse that really stopped me in my tracks was Proverbs 4:19: “The way of the wicked is like deep darkness; they do not know what makes them stumble.”

I cried out to Jesus, and he saved me. He also started changing me by the power of his Spirit. This didn’t happen overnight … but by God’s grace I avoided falling back into addiction. Meanwhile, God gave me a greater desire to pray and read his Word. Missy and I have now been married for 11 years, and I’ve been free from drugs and alcohol the entire time.

Editor’s Note: Since accepting Christ, Benjamin and Missy have been blessed with the opportunity to do outreach ministry together, in part by hosting a Night of Hope, a concert geared toward helping people facing all types of addiction. Benjamin is also the author of War a Good Warfare: Fighting the Battles Within .

Marshall Brandon was raised by an alcoholic father and a mother who was filled with rage. Once, when Marshall told his father that he had seen his mother kissing another man, his father deserted the family and Marshal was beaten bloody by his mother and locked in a closet. So began many beatings throughout his adolescence.

Then at age 17 he joined the Army. He longed for someplace to be somebody, and was eager for a life of peace and order. He had to wait until his 18th birthday before being sent to Vietnam and this resulted in Marshall being assigned to a new unit. He was scared, lonely, and sick with feelings of abandonment. He wondered how he would survive.

Within a week, a guy introduced Marshall to marijuana. That started his long journey with drugs. Marijuana eased his worries about making it home, so he smoked every day.

My anger was kindled when I saw my Black brothers being abused by the authorities. I turned my rage against white commanding officers and even had thoughts of killing one. After serving about a year in Vietnam, I returned home, and I brought my anger at white people with me.

But he was soon also enslaved to morphine and his addiction was so great that he began stealing it. A group he was with was arrested for armed robbery and Marshall was sentenced to 10–25 years at the Ohio State Reformatory. He wondered anew, “How will I survive this?”

He decided to never use drugs again so he joined recovery groups in prison. With mostly good behavior, he was released to go to college on a furlough program. However, drugs soon found him again and the habit came back with a vengeance.

Then he met Katika, the woman who would change his life. There were married and for two years he managed to hide his addiction from her until she discovered the truth. Katika encouraged him to go into rehab but Marshall never did. She said, “I love you too much to watch you destroy yourself,” and she announced she was leaving me. Marshal said, “Our separation devastated me. I remember asking God, ‘Do you really exist? Make yourself real to me.’”

He occasionally saw his wife and after six months he noticed something different about her—peace. She was patient and showed genuine concern. He asked her what was different. She said, “I got saved.” Katika invited him to church where he “heard about a man who loved me just as I was.”

In June of 1977, as I sat and listened to the preacher say, “Come as you are,” I stopped questioning whether I could ask Jesus to save me. I knew he would. I ran so fast from my seat I knocked some hats off nice ladies in the pews. I will never forget that moment I was set free! Upon my profession of faith in Jesus Christ, God delivered me from my drug addiction on the spot.

After my reconciliation to God, he began the process of reconciliation in my other relationships, starting with my wife. This year, we will celebrate 48 years of marriage. During that time, I’ve had the privilege of serving God as a pastor and an evangelist. From childhood abuse and gangs, to Vietnam and drugs, to armed robbery and prison—through it all, God loved and protected me. Isn’t he a wonderful Father?

Editor’s Note: Today Marshall Brandon is an elder and visiting pastor at Citizens Akron Church in Akron, Ohio.

In an issue of CT magazine, Gene McGuire tells the story of how God found him serving a life sentence in prison and gave him new life in Christ.

I’d always looked up to my out-of-town cousin, Bobby. I was thrilled when he invited me to come along that night to a bar. After a few games of pool and several drinks, Bobby told us he was going to rob the place. While surprised at his sudden intentions, the alcohol seemed to dull any impulse for protest. Sid and I would leave—as locals, we’d be recognized—and Bobby would commit the robbery alone.

We waited outside. After several minutes, we poked our heads in the door—Bobby had brutally murdered the bar owner. He shouted, “Don’t just stand there! Help me find the money!”

On the run, McGuire followed Bobby to New York City, but he couldn’t escape the reality of what they had done and went to the police. Bobby told him, “Gene, tell the truth. It was all me.” McGuire told the detectives everything but because he was present when the crime was committed, he was charged with murder. A day before his 18th birthday the judge sentenced him: “For the rest of your natural life,” without the possibility of parole.

In prison McGuire met Larry when he visited as part of a nationwide outreach event organized by Prison Fellowship. A preacher shared a gospel message and ended with an invitation saying, “Real men make commitments.” But McGuire held still.

McGuire returned the next day. Again, the preacher ended with those words, “Real men make commitments.” He watched as others made the commitment. He really wanted to—but he couldn’t. Then a volunteer approached him. “Hi, my name is Larry.” McGuire asked, “How long have you been a Christian?” “Since I was 4-years-old,” Larry replied. McGuire thought, “Was he putting me on? If a 4-year-old could sort out this Jesus stu­ff, why couldn’t I? What was I doing at 26 without a clue?”

The next day—the final service—I went back, and again it ended with the familiar “Real men make commitments.” A war raged within me—Go! No, don’t go! Get up! No, don’t move! I held on to the chapel pew with a white-knuckled death grip.

Suddenly, it just happened. I was on my feet, putting one in front of the other until I was at the altar. I remember praying, “Jesus, I believe you died and rose again for me. Please forgive all my sins. I want to be saved. Jesus, come into my heart today. Amen.” It sounds cliché, but I felt as if a ton of weight rolled right o­ff my back, as if chains fell away and I was free. Life in prison remained life in prison, but from the moment I believed in Jesus, the newness of life was extraordinary.

The Lord continued to use Larry in my life; for the next 25 years he mentored and discipled me, never letting me lose sight of opportunities to love God and serve others.

Meanwhile, I was actively petitioning the governor to commute my life sentence. Yet another attempt—after 32 years in prison—ended in rejection. Then, in June 2010, I received a notice from an attorney out of the blue. It informed me of a new Supreme Court ruling that could o­ffer juveniles given life sentences the opportunity to return to court and possibly receive a lighter sentence.

On April 3, 2012, I finally got my release. As a 17-year-old looking squarely at a lifetime behind bars, I never would have imagined this outcome. But God’s love is so great that nothing can separate us from it; his mercy and grace so powerful that no shackles can confine us. I’m living proof. I received a life sentence and, along the way, I found life—and freedom.

Editor’s Note: Gene McGuire is the author of Unshackled: From Ruin to Redemption . He lives in the Dallas–Fort Worth area, where he serves as pastor for a Christian family-owned restaurant company.

Shon Hopwood grew up in a Christian home in rural Nebraska. When his high-school basketball career faded and college and the military fell through, he was left with a complete lack of purpose. So, it sounded like a good idea when his best friend suggested they rob a bank.

They robbed five banks with guns. Shon knew it was wrong. Still, he couldn’t stop because of the easy money and party lifestyle that it brought him. It ended when he was arrested by the FBI and sentenced by a federal judge to 12 years in federal prison. He was 23.

Shon took a job in the prison law library. He began learning the law. Over the years he took on fellow prisoners’ cases, writing petitions they would then file in federal courts, including the U.S. Supreme Court. Fellow prisoners began calling him a “jailhouse lawyer.”

His next cell-door neighbor, Robert, would grumble about missing out on the lives of his children and he ranted about a friend who had turned against him and testified at his trial. He said he wished that guy would die. It was clear to Shon that the bitterness of life and prison had consumed him.

Shon said,

One day I walked over to Robert’s cell and watched as he smiled and danced around while sweeping the floor. My first thought was that he had scored some drugs. But when I asked why he seemed so different, he said, ‘Shon, I’m with Jesus now.’ Within days Robert had forgiven the man who had testified against him. Today, Robert is back on his farm with his family, and once a week he treks back into prison to lead a men’s Bible study.

Robert was neither the first nor the last prisoner I saw experience a complete and utter life turnaround. These inmates had a great effect on me because I saw how grace can transform everyone, even prisoners.

Shon was released in 2009, during the heart of the recession, when work was hard to find, especially for a former inmate. But then another grace arrived: He found a position at a leading printer of Supreme Court briefs in Omaha, helping attorneys perfect their briefs.

Shon became engaged but the pastor would not marry them without premarital counseling. During the first session, the pastor asked what they believed about Jesus. Shon said, “When he talked about grace, that free gift of salvation, I listened, especially when he said that I could be forgiven. ‘Yeah, even you, Shon.’ I couldn’t escape the feeling that God had been pursuing me for a long time.”

Shon writes:

In Ephesians 1:7–8, Paul writes that in Christ “we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us.” Grace says we are not defined by our failures and our faults, but by a love without merit or condition. God’s grace was enough to redeem me.

Nearly five years have passed since I made the most important decision of my life: to surrender to this grace. I got married, and my wife also became a believer. We moved to Seattle so I could attend the University of Washington Law School on a full-ride scholarship. Looking back over the course of my life, I can see that although I rarely returned the favor, God hotly pursued me.

Editor’s Note: Today Shon Robert Hopwood is an author, appellate lawyer, and professor of law at Georgetown University Law Center.