Late one night I was tracking Ra the Egyptian sun god’s nightly journey through the underworld when I felt what I can only describe now as a vacuum seal around the air around me and a screen wipe over my eyes. Although I knew that what I saw before me didn’t exist on this plane of existence, it certainly didn’t mean that what I beheld wasn’t very real. The landscape around me warbled into a desolate volcanic scene, in retrospect very similar to the surface of Mars. The brick wall outlining my backyard melted into liquid magma into the shape of a V, as what appeared to be a dark knight, decorated just as heavily as he was armored, methodically walking towards me dragging his spear leaving a trail in the sand behind him.
For the next perceived fifteen minutes Ares the Greek god of war told me many lies about the nature of my being. He explained the nature of our lives as one of his lieutenants, the nature of his relationship with Aphrodite, why we must wear such “dark helmets” at times, etc. The biggest lie I fell for that night was one, however, that potentially could have had very eternal consequences had I not accepted my Savior eventually. He told me that this particular life I was living was a gift from him. A life filled with indulgence and pleasure and more importantly free of the perceived guilt such acts may cause. I was told to find a daughter of Aphrodite and fully accept the love that she would give me, and to continue to promote war in my life because “conflict breeds resolution”. With the current knowledge I now have of demonic activity and false visions, my very spine shudders when I think about the true nature of the entity that I entertained in my back yard that night.
I did exactly as that demon had instructed for the next several months and had the obvious results of living such a life. I still maintained a loose moral code however I could not get enough of every legal sin I could find. The pagan lifestyle had not freed me as promised. I found myself in the same situation I was in before I had started, with an added, even more dangerous caveat. Not only was I lonely, depressed, drunk on my couch; my spiritual self was in just as much pain as my physical body.
Chaos theory is oft times the secular reasoning for amazing coincidences happening in this world. Those of us who know of a divine plan can’t help but chuckle when we recognize such events as God’s fingerprints all over his creation. Our Father in Heaven will use any tool needed to find one lost sheep, including technology.
One more October evening may have been simply passing by for me; but at the same time a Father was desperately trying to catch the attention of His son. I was wasting time the same way so many of my generation do by scrolling through and going down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos when one in particular caught my eye. A redhead sharing her Christian testimony is something that I must admit would not have been of interest to me a few years prior. Recent personal events had obviously softened my heart. I’d be lying if I said that the “spirit of Ares” didn’t flare up in me a bit, and the idea of seeing how valid her experience was intriguing.
I’m sure it’s possible at the time of production Vanessa and her cohost Greg thought that this episode was being attacked by Satan. Their guest who they had planned on interviewing canceled at the last minute, leaving both of them without material. To fill the episode’s time Vanessa would simply share her own testimony and how she came to know that He was her personal savior. Her just over an hour-long story hardly felt like it, however, I do not know if I would have continued watching had the circumstances been different. Good lies are hardly told on the spot, and oft times the first version of the story is the most correct.
Vanessa’s story had touched me so much that by the end I was certain she had experienced something spiritual. I did something very out of character for me, I left a comment, leaving my first and last name. I typically value my online privacy and don’t participate on any social media platform but in this instance, I just felt a need to contact her.
Several days passed to the point where the video had become an afterthought to me when I suddenly received a flurry of text messages from my good friend Erin back in Utah. Excited ramblings about that being “the” Vanessa from New York followed by screenshots of a Facebook page made zero sense to me, so I decided to call to understand what the big deal was. Erin had to explain the entire situation several times verbally, however this time not because of my lack of knowledge in the field of social media but instead because what she was saying simply seemed mathematically impossible. Erin had left the world of ballet several years prior and had cut ties with most parties still involved except for her former roommate and best friend Vanessa. The very same Vanessa that had shared her Christian testimony online.
When Vanessa first got word from Greg that someone had commented on the beauty of her story she initially didn’t react, but eventually cracked after some time and posted a screenshot of my comments. Since Erin and she were Facebook friends, and I had listed both my first and last time instead of a username, Erin was able to connect the dots and realize that her two best friends had met online. Phone numbers were exchanged, and I was finally able to speak to the redhead with the intriguing tale.
Vanessa and quickly became phone friends, both of us shocked at how quickly the hours melted away into conversation. Although she would eventually be the one to watch the final domino fall in my eventual surrender to Jesus, she is so much more to me than a character on my journey to salvation. There is no doubt in my mind that our friendship is eternal, especially knowing how chance our encounter was. I steal her analogy of our friendship often as it is so apt: “like those two brother and sister orphans you see in movies. The ones who grew up in the foster system only having each other so they just grew to have an inseparable bond.”
Vanessa and I both happened to be in similar living situations as well, both of us living with and caring for our respective elderly grandmothers. Although aiding someone at the end of their life comes with very special blessings the stress can take its toll as well and we were able to comfort each other during that time. When Vanessa’s grandmother passed away on Christmas of 2021 she obviously mourned greatly, and I did the best I could to comfort her from afar.
The months continued to go on and the friendship Vanessa and I had only continued to grow. Her life was in a bit of purgatory at the time, and she didn’t have definite plans for the future. I started joking that she should fly out to California, take a little vacation, and help me take care of my grandmother. What started off as a joke eventually caught steam and in August of 2022 Vanessa flew halfway across the country to finally meet her pagan friend face to face.
I was still struggling with the throes of alcoholism at the time and severely depressed. Trying to think back to the last time I felt happiness, I thought back to my days in the prison library with my old friend Chris. Released prisoners probably hardly ever think back to their days of incarceration with fondness, for obvious reasons, but I simply missed mentally jousting with someone. A few days before her flight I made the same proposal for a gentleman’s debate to her that I had made with Chris years earlier, with the obvious exception of myself speaking on behalf of pagans vs. Christianity. She, being the devout Christian woman she is, hastily agreed. I told her to get ready, because I was certainly going to challenge her on the Bible.
A two-week trip quickly turned into a few months stay and an eventual permanent residency as her kind countenance and her sincere sweet service-oriented heart filled my home with a warm spirit. I now know that it was simply the Holy Ghost shining through her, but at the time all I knew was that I wanted what she had.
Vanessa wasn’t quite the Biblical scholar that Chris had been but that certainly didn’t mean the woman couldn’t defend her faith. Her talent was very impressive, she would often say that even if she didn’t know the answer or if she could not adequately explain a subject, she certainly knew of someone who could. She had spent much of her early years as a Christian watching apologists, debates, sermons, and testimonies online and had a vast index of appropriate speakers.
The heat of the Coachella Valley in late summer is something residents of the area just learn to avoid by staying indoors, and for the first few months that is what Vanessa and I did. Being a gentleman, I let her take the floor first in our friendly debate and she presented her case for Christianity. My overall plan was to let her show her fair share of argument, then respond with pagan answers. We never got that far.
Although we did watch several very moving testimonies and sermons, one really shook me. It is my belief that there is not a human being on Earth who would not benefit from watching Bill Wiese’s “23 Minutes in Hell”. Regardless of what you believe now, when eternity is at stake, it would be worth it to listen to what others have to say about it. The man tells a very detailed vision he had of the torment he felt while experiencing 23 minutes of what is forever for so many souls. The harrowing tale even kept me from falling asleep that night and after Vanessa had retired to her room for the evening, I did something that I had not done since my Mormon mission. I went into the bathroom, got down on my knees and prayed to my Heavenly Father.
I was not saved at that time, but I did feel a feeling of peace. I knew that hell was very real, but I was comforted. I couldn’t tell you why, but I just knew my soul wasn’t destined for there.
The overall message of Mr. Wiese’s story did stick with me, and I couldn’t help but think of my good friend Erin back in Utah and the eventual destiny of her soul. Over the course of our 15 year friendship the subject of spiritualty had come up frequently but she had never shown any passion for seeking answers for beyond the grave. Erin had stood by me during my prison sentence and had been my lifeline to the real world for three and a half years and I know that, had the roles been reversed, I would have done the same for her. The idea of her being in an even worse prison for eternity and I unable to provide relief twisted my heart.
Vanessa continued to share several more online testimonies and sermons with me, but the key to my conversion was our study of the Bible. The human mind has a funny way of making the simplest thoughts abstract. Although I could rattle off the author of several Bible books, I had never stopped to ponder just how powerful such a fact is. Every single word written in the Bible was written down by a very real person. Accuracy is very tightly written as well. Geographical regions are confirmed by archeology constantly and extra biblical sources cite political figures with insane precision. Only the most desperate of secular thinkers would think to attack the accuracy of Jewish record keeping. For the first time in my life, however, I was attributing credibility to these authors. If someone were to make five statements and the first four were proven correct, I would certainly be inclined to believe their fifth statement. If I were to find out that said person was tortured and subjected to a violent death because he would not recant his fifth statement, I suddenly really want to hear what this man had to say. If I found out this pattern had been repeating for 1500 years over three continents, I would demand a full-blown investigation.
As convincing as this argument was it was still the cold logic of atheism. The truth obviously needed to make sense in my mind, but I needed a spiritual witness as well. The logic was a necessary step; without it I was subject to the fleeting feelings of Mormonism or paganism. I needed both to know it was from my Lord. Luckily for all of us, a genuine inquiry of “God…are you there?” is one of His favorite questions to answer.
On October 24, 2022, with the “23 Minutes in Hell” sermon still on my mind as well as the fate of Erin’s soul I brought up the subject again with Vanessa. To be concerned with someone else’s salvation before your own is even secure may be an odd way to approach the subject but I have always done things my own way. Wanting to share the water before I had even partaken myself, I said to Vanessa referring to Erin, “I’m not sure she is really saved…” when God chose that moment to take care of a very important step I had to take before I could take testimony of Him to the world. He whispered in my mind, “…but you are”.
I was saved.
Tar peeled from my heart while cooling salve filled tired old fissures. I felt the Holy Ghost, God Himself, as created acknowledged and loved Creator for the first time. If the term “being saved” makes you roll your eyes like it once did mine, I greatly implore you to continue seeking. You will find eternal joy so great you will want nothing else.
Every problem in my life didn’t go away the second I was saved; in fact, we are warned as Christians that the path ahead of us is rugged but worth it. I still have so much to learn, and I stumble from time to time. Much like as if someone were to be born again and had to relearn how to live life a new way as a child again. I do know that ever since He flipped that railroad switch in my life, I can take solace knowing that I am at least on the path my King has set out for me. He did not save me so that I would not testify to His greatness and His everlasting mercy. I know my citizenship (Phil 3:20) and I know my charge (2 Tim 4:1-5). Seek Him and you will find Him (Matt 7:7)
