When I think back to the day my life changed forever, it couldn’t have been a more ordinary day. When I was a child of about ten, my parents stopped going to church. I have some memories of going to church as a family, but very few. Around the dinner table, my mother and father would openly question the existence of God–conversations that I now wish I had never heard but thought nothing of at the time.
As the years slipped away, I moved away from home, graduated college, got married, and had two children of my own. Despite my lack of a religious upbringing, I did notice that some people seemed to get a lot out of their faith. It was an important and highly valued part of their lives. I wondered if it might be that way for two my sons someday. I made a promise to myself that if either of my boys ever expressed an interest in going to church, I would take them.
One day when my oldest son was in fourth grade, he came to me and said he wanted to go to church. Remembering my promise, I told him I would find a church for us to go to that Sunday–but he wasn’t finished with the conversation yet. “If I don’t go to church, I’ll grow in body but not in spirit,” he said. And that was it. That conversation with a ten-year old boy set in motion the events that would change my life in more ways that I could even begin to imagine.