My parents believed in God, and taught me He existed, but that’s all I knew. I felt like God was far away…
My earliest memories involved my Dad passed out drunk on the floor, loud arguments between my Mom and Dad, and his car backing out of the driveway leaving our family.
At the age of eight years old, I heard a story about Jesus saving us from our sins…When I arrived home, I asked my Mother to tell me more about what this
I was so alone. I tried to act like I knew what I was doing, like I was having fun and was in control, but in truth I was lost and confused.
I would cry myself to sleep every night wondering why…then I heard about a man named Jesus who loved me no matter what.
Growing up on a farm near Sundown, Texas, we did not go to Church. One summer, at age 12, I went to a Baptist camp for boys.