I Shouldn’t Be Here… But God Had Other Plans
I should’ve died on October 11th, 2023.
A blood clot broke loose from my leg and lodged in a couple of places within my left lung — a pulmonary embolism.
If it had been just a little bigger…
If I had waited a little longer…
If God had looked the other way just once…
But He didn’t.
And now I see why.
But to understand why I got baptized on Easter Sunday 2024, you need the full story.
The Slow Unraveling
It started with foot surgery in August of 2023. I had developed a couple neuromas over the years prior due heavy forefoot running, beginning with a Spartan Stadion I ran in 2021. The neuromas didn’t respond well to cortisone shots and physical therapy got me to a place where I could manage day-to-day activity, but when the running and training ramped up, so did the pain.
I figured nerve decompression surgery would be a straightforward recovery.
But it wasn’t.
I was stuck. Immobile. Restless.
And then came a charley horse in my calf that had me gripping with pain.
I assumed it was from trying to walk and move around in a boot, but my podiatrist assured me it was probably just a muscle cramp. He left it up to me if I wanted to go to the hospital but since the pain eventually subsided, I moved on with life.
What I didn’t know was that something far more dangerous was still brewing.
The Moment Everything Changed
On October 11th, almost six weeks after my foot surgery, I had started a normal day working from home. I knocked out some intense pull-ups that morning as part of a workout and began to experience some pain in the left side of my back a while after.
As the day progressed, the pain in my back spread to my chest and began to feel tighter. By bedtime, it was feeling pretty sore, but then it ramped up significantly.
I had just laid down and turned out the lights and my breathing suddenly became constricted. I couldn’t take deep breaths and the pain increased on the left side of my body. So I got out of bed, walked around a bit, and started realizing I was in serious trouble.
I walked back in the room, turned on the light, and placed my hands on the nightstand, slightly hunched over and still struggling to breathe. A deep, panicked tightness spread through me.
Ashley rolled over and saw the fear in my eyes. It was then she decided to call for an ambulance.
At the hospital, they told me I had a couple fragments of a blood clot in my lung.
A pulmonary embolism. The kind that kills people. Then again, I suppose any pulmonary embolism can do that.
They caught it in time though — but just barely.
I was shaken. Physically weak. Mentally cracked open.
And spiritually… hollow.
Memories of Faith Once Had
The scariest part wasn’t the diagnosis.
It was how far I’d drifted from anything I used to believe in.
As a kid, I had faith.
I went to church. I was part of AWANA and the youth group and was involved in several camps and trips.
I grew up on DC Talk, Jars of Clay, and all the big Christian bands of the ‘90s. For a while, I could proudly say I was Jesus freak.
Faith was in the air. It was normal. It was mine — for a while.
But by my senior year of high school in 2001–2002, I started to fall away.
And when I joined the Marines from 2002 to 2006, I didn’t just fall away.
I replaced it.
The atrocities of war made me question the existence of God.
Then, I began leaning into New Age beliefs — not quite atheism, but definitely not Christianity.
I stopped believing in God. Rather, I believed in something else — a collective consciousness, a kind of energy or awareness that connected everything.
It sounded noble. But it wasn’t rooted and it put a lot of weight on my shoulders.
And when things got hard, it didn’t hold up.
Alone, Laid Bare, and Questioning Everything
After the blood clot, I was physically wrecked.
Walking upstairs left me gasping.
I couldn’t work out. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t do the high-intensity stuff I was used to.
And when you’re alone with your thoughts long enough, the real questions start rising.
As I journaled, I began to think:
- What am I doing with my life?
- What really matters?
- What do I actually believe?
God used that stillness to break through the noise.
When Love Shows Up Uninvited
One day while I was recovering, a group of people I didn’t even know pulled up to my house.
They were from my wife’s church group.
She had shared what was going on with me — and they showed up, unannounced, to clean my entire yard of leaves.
Riding mowers, backpack leaf blowers, rakes, and a passion to serve…
No agenda. No expectation.
One guy — a stranger at the time — gave me a song recommendation on his way out.
It was “Firm Foundation” by Cody Carnes.
It wasn’t just a song, though.
It was a crack in the armor I had built around my heart.
How My Wife, A Friend, and A Church Helped Me Come Home
This wasn’t a one-time act of kindness.
It was the beginning of a wave I couldn’t ignore.
Week after week, this church family kept showing up in ways that softened me.
And at the center of it all was my wife.
She had been walking with God for years.
I watched her stay faithful — no matter what life threw at us.
I watched how her relationship with God gave her peace, direction, and strength.
I saw how her faith shaped our kids.
And I realized: God had been walking with her all along.
And now… He was gently reaching for me.
One of the most impactful relationships during that time was with a guy from her church group — an Army Reserve Sergeant Major. Older than me. Wiser. Strong in his faith.
We had connected prior to my blood clot and had hung out a lot. We shot pool. We had real conversations. No fluffy stuff.
He didn’t try to convert me.
He just walked with me. As a brother. As a friend. As a witness.
And on November 26, 2023, I took the leap and attended a normal Sunday church service for the first time as an adult.
I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t know what to expect.
But I knew I couldn’t keep running.
The Sign I Couldn’t Ignore
On March 6, 2024, I was driving home after picking up my son from school. I had felt the Hoy Spirit nudging me and knew something was up.
As I passed a nearby house, I saw something strange on the porch step:
Three wreaths, perfectly overlapping — a symbol of the Holy Trinity.
Father. Son. Holy Spirit.
Right there on a random doorstep.
My heart dropped.
My eyes filled with tears.
I knew — this was my sign.
Easter Sunday 2024 — Resurrection
On Easter Sunday, I walked down into the water and gave my life to Christ.
Here’s my testimony video right before it happened:
Baptized. Washed. Reborn.
All of it — the wandering, the pride, the years of confusion — I laid it down.
Because I finally understood…
God had been there the whole time.
Even when I didn’t believe.
Even when I chased lesser truths.
Even when I tried to control everything.
He never left.
And now, neither will I.
If You’re Still Reading…
Thank you.
This wasn’t easy to write.
It’s personal. It’s vulnerable. It’s raw.
But if even one person reads this and feels a flicker of hope, then it was worth it.
If you’re wrestling with something heavy…
If you’ve been drifting…
If you’re looking for meaning in the mess…
Reach out.
No pitch.
No pressure.
Just a conversation.
God didn’t give up on me.
And He hasn’t given up on you either.
Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story…
— Psalm 107:2 (NLT)
