The Life Behind the Words
I write about faith because I need the truth I am sharing. Scripture is not merely material for an article or a collection of answers to someone else’s problems. It speaks to my questions, exposes weaknesses in my thinking, and reminds me where my hope belongs when life does not match what I once imagined.
My childhood included abuse and failures of protection by people I should have been able to trust. Those experiences shaped how I understood love, safety, authority, and my own worth. When the person responsible for protecting a child is also the one causing harm, that child is left trying to make sense of a world that does not make sense. Looking back, I can recognize how much of my attention went toward getting through the present rather than preparing for the future.
That history helps explain some of my later choices, but it does not make every choice right. Some things were done to me that were never my responsibility, and some decisions I made were mine to own. Understanding my life honestly requires keeping those distinctions clear. I do not want to blame myself for another person’s wrongdoing, but I also do not want to use what happened to me as an excuse to avoid examining myself.
I do not believe the abuse was necessary for me to become someone God could love or use, because His love was never something my suffering had to earn. We often recognize how deeply someone values something by what they are willing to give for it. Yet even that comparison falls short when I consider, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son” (John 3:16).
As a father, I cannot comprehend giving my child so that people who had committed terrible evil, including those who would kill my child, could receive life. Yet God gave His Son for sinners, and Jesus willingly laid down His life for us, knowing that many would still reject Him (Romans 5:8; John 10:18). That does not mean we deserved such a sacrifice. It reveals a love whose depth I cannot measure, a love that exposes the lie that I was worthless without pretending I was sinless.
Christ came not merely to offer me better circumstances but to save me from sin and condemnation and to give me everlasting life (John 3:16-18). This is what changed me: not discovering that my wounds had made me worthy, but having my eyes opened to the mercy God had already extended to me through His Son. Even my salvation is not an accomplishment I can claim; it is His gift of grace, received through faith (Ephesians 2:8-9).
The abuse remains evil, but it does not determine my worth or have the final say over my life. God preserved me, made me new in Christ, and gave me a grateful heart. That gratitude is why I write. I cannot fully explain such love, but I can point others to the Savior who has shown it to me.
Learning the Difference Between Being Needed and Being Loved
One of the deepest questions running through my life has been what love actually is. I briefly touched on it above in relation to the value of what someone is willing to give for something or someone they love. When safety seems to depend on compliance, it becomes hard to separate love from transactions: doing what someone wants to avoid rejection or harm. Those lessons do not necessarily disappear when childhood ends.
Christ’s words help me recognize the difference between love that protects and gives, and behavior that uses, harms, and abandons. That understanding continues to correct the distorted lessons I learned about love.
“The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.
“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep. But a hireling, he who is not the shepherd, one who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees; and the wolf catches the sheep and scatters them. The hireling flees because he is a hireling and does not care about the sheep. I am the good shepherd; and I know My sheep, and am known by My own. As the Father knows Me, even so I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep.”
John 10:10-15 (NKJV)
God’s willingness to give His Son reveals the depth of His love for us, even in our sin and helplessness. Christ, the Good Shepherd, gave His life for people who could neither save themselves nor earn His love.
This is part of what gives my book, I Cannot Give You What I Do Not Have, its title and personal meaning. I needed love that was not being offered to me. Recognizing that failure helps me understand the importance of receiving from Christ what I cannot manufacture through obedient determination alone. It also challenges me to consider what I am passing on to others, specifically, pointing others to Christ, who can give what we all need: eternal life.
My wife and our children are central to our spiritual walk with Christ as we grow together in our relationship with Him. I have described how fear of losing my wife or one of our children became entangled with my dependence on my family. Yet I also recognize change. Although difficult thoughts still arise, I no longer panic when I am apart from them as I once did, nor do I immediately resort to old, neurotic, or impulsive behaviors to quiet that fear.
This change has grown from a deeper understanding of what Christ has done for me. That is why I point others toward Him: the grace I depend on is the grace I want them to know.
Understanding love also requires me to remember that another person is not an object to satisfy my needs. That conviction shapes how I treat people and how I use money, influence, and possessions. I am responsible for caring for others and using what God has entrusted to me in ways that serve rather than control them. Having experienced the harm of being used, I want to stay alert to how I treat others, even when my intentions seem good to me.
Why Christ Is More Than a Religious Answer
My faith in Jesus Christ is not separate from these questions. It is where I bring them. I believe He died for my sins, rose from the dead, and offers eternal life to those who place their faith in Him. That means my hope no longer depends on whether I can repair every consequence, understand every disappointment, or make the rest of my life match the dreams I once had.
Ephesians 2:8-10 keeps an essential order before me: salvation is a gift of grace, received by faith, not something I earn through achievement. Yet that same grace calls me to a life of good works. I am not trying to become impressive enough for God to accept me. I am learning to live in response to what He has done for me in Christ.
That distinction becomes especially important when I am exhausted by my failures. Psalm 103:14 says that God “remembers that we are dust.” I have sometimes allowed that truth to become a reason for resignation: if I am weak and likely to fail again, why keep trying? But the Father’s compassion is not a declaration that growth is pointless. His knowledge of my weakness gives me reason to seek His help rather than surrender to it.
Philippians 2:13 reminds me that God works within His people “both to will and to do for His good pleasure.” My responsibility remains real, yet I am not left to meet it by my own strength alone.
Why I Write About Everyday Life
That is why practical application matters so much in Biblical Influence & Life Application. A biblical truth should extend beyond the page to how we speak to our spouses, family, friends, and co-workers; how we respond to disappointment, manage money, receive correction, and treat people who cannot give us anything in return.
I want my writing to help make those connections clear. I do not want someone to finish reading with more religious vocabulary but with no clearer sense of how God’s Word speaks to the situation they will face when they put the article down.
I especially hope to reach people who are tired, discouraged, or ashamed of struggling. I know what it is to question whether effort is getting anywhere. I know the frustration of looking at life and seeing one step forward followed by what feels like two steps back. That doesn’t mean I understand every reader’s experience, but it does mean I don’t want to speak from a distance, as though their questions belong only to them.
My desire to serve did not begin with writing. As a younger man, I wanted to become a firefighter, and I eventually lived that dream, though briefly. I valued the work and enjoyed the recognition that came with it. Both belong in an honest account. Wanting to protect others was real; so was appreciating their praise.
That mixture gives me something to examine in my writing now. Am I trying to help someone, prove something about myself, or both? I cannot assume that a worthwhile activity renders every motive behind it pure. At the same time, I need not condemn every desire to contribute or every pleasure in knowing that my work helped someone.
What I Am Still Learning to Examine
Writing about truth places on me the responsibility to examine my own conclusions, not merely the conclusions of others.
When I say the past has shaped me, I need to be careful not to turn that into a claim that the past controls every remaining possibility. When I recognize God’s sovereignty, I must not assume I know exactly why He permitted a particular event. And when an opportunity closes, I may trust His care without declaring with certainty that I have identified His reason.
The same care is needed when I speak about family. My adoptive parents failed me in serious ways. That is part of my experience. It does not establish that adoptive parents generally cannot love their children, nor does it establish that biological parenthood guarantees faithful love. My testimony is strongest when I tell the truth about what happened without asking that experience to prove more than it can.
I also need to distinguish humility from treating myself as if I do not matter. Pointing readers toward Christ does not require pretending that my life, gifts, or voice have no value. It requires acknowledging the source of that value and using what I have responsibly.
These are not corrections I can make once and then consider finished. They are part of learning to submit my thinking to Scripture, especially when a conclusion feels convincing because it has been familiar for many years.
Trusting God Without Pretending the Waiting Is Easy
Sometimes God seems silent, and circumstances remain unchanged. Prayer does not always provide the explanation I want, but it gives me a place to speak honestly before the One I trust. I do not need to mask disappointment as gratitude when I bring it to Him. I can acknowledge the disappointment while remembering that it is not all I have to say about His care.
Nor does waiting mean doing nothing. Sometimes the faithful response is to pause, seek counsel, or gather information. At other times, I already know enough to apologize, honor a commitment, resist a harmful response, or complete the work before me. I am learning that uncertainty about the future does not relieve me of responsibility in the present.
That understanding also shapes how I respond to criticism. Not all criticism is fair, but disagreement alone does not prove that I am misunderstood or opposed for my faith. I need to listen for what may be true, correct what needs correction, and remain clear about what Scripture teaches. Defending my pride and defending the faith are not the same task.
For me, spiritual maturity is not about having no questions or reaching a point where nothing hurts. It means becoming more truthful, more teachable, and more willing to obey Christ without first requiring that life become easy. Success must therefore mean more than recognition, possessions, or the fulfillment of an old ambition. It must include faithfulness to the life and responsibilities I actually have.
I Am Still Here, and I Am Not Giving Up on Him
I haven’t reached a point where every wound is healed, or every response reflects the man I hope to become. Some days, my words reveal discouragement more readily than hope. Yet I continue writing, examining, praying, and returning to Scripture because I still believe Christ is worthy of my trust.
My determination is to remain with Him to the end, come hell or high water. That is not a boast that I will never stumble or need anyone’s help. It is a statement of where I intend to turn when I do stumble. I am not seeking a life apart from Him, and I do not want disappointment to drive me to abandon the Savior in whom I have placed my hope.
Peter’s question reflects that conviction: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).
That is the hope beneath my writing. I cannot guarantee that my readers’ circumstances will improve as they hope. I can point them to Christ while acknowledging that I need Him just as much as they do. My life remains unfinished, yet I remain committed to following Him, receiving His correction, depending on His grace, and using the time I have to help others understand why He is worth trusting.
Prayer
Father, thank You for loving me before I understood Your love and for saving me through Jesus Christ. You know what wounded me, where I have failed, and where I still need to grow. Help me receive Your correction, take responsibility for my choices, and treat others with the care I needed myself. Keep my writing honest, my motives open before You, and my hope rooted in Your promises. By Your grace, help me follow Christ to the end and point others toward the eternal life found in Him. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Book: I Cannot Give You What I Do Not Have: Finding Unconditional Love in Christ
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GQB4MJYW
Study Guide: I Cannot Give You What I Do Not Have: Companion Study Guide: Healing Generational Wounds Through 40 Devotions
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H33MHYMY
#TrustingChrist #God’sLove #SalvationbyGraceThroughFaith #SpiritualGrowth #ReceivingGod’sLove #HonestFaith #SpiritualMaturity #HopeinJesus #SpiritualGrowth #ThroughScripture #FindingWorthInChrist
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