My Journey from Darkness to Light: A Christian Testimony
I chased the supernatural, the occult, and everything in between. Spoiler: Jesus wins.
I was looking for and praying about the next passage to wrestle with. Maybe something deep, structured, and scriptural.
Instead, I felt led to share my testimony.
This is way out of my comfort zone. I’m not a fan of anecdotal stories, especially the ones that can’t be proven or verified. But here we are.
Obedience matters more than preference.
(I have attempted to inject some humor in this as not to make it feel so “dry” and heavy.)
Let me just start with this:
God loves you. Not just in the vague "Jesus hearts you" bumper sticker way. I mean He seriously loves you. The kind of love that follows you into a mess you made yourself, steps over the Ouija board, and still says, "Yeah, I’ll take that one."
And trust me, I gave Him a lot of reasons to walk away.
Spoiler: He didn’t.
Let’s rewind.
Act I: Baby Believer with Big Pride Energy
I came to Christ when I was young. Like, "wearing church camp T-shirts unironically" young. I believed in God, loved Jesus, the whole thing. But I misunderstood what it meant. There were times I remember at around the ages of 8 to 12 that I would lay in bed at night watching TBN, praying the sinner's prayer, terrified that I would die with sin in my life and go to hell. I didn't understand the finished work of Christ at all.
And then I grew up. Which is code for: I got distracted, self-important, and slowly wandered away like a toddler with a juice box and no depth perception.
At 17, I ended up at a church called Global Force. That’s where I first heard about grace. Real grace. Not the kind where you try to earn God’s love like you’re playing spiritual Monopoly. I clung to it like a kid with abandonment issues at an amusement park.
But I didn’t pray. I studied the Word mostly so I could argue better, which, if you’re wondering, is not a fruit of the Spirit.
Act II: Let Me Just Peek Into the Abyss Real Quick
Fast-forward to age 20. I thought I was spiritually bulletproof. I loved trying to answer theological questions and conundrums. (I mean I still do.) But I had a friend come to me with some assertions and questions that I couldn't quite find answers to. So I said to myself, "I can look into the dark stuff and be fine. I’m strong."
Cue the ominous background music.
I started digging into pagan theology. Still no answers. Then moved to occult doctrine. You know, just some light recreational spiritual ruin. Tarot cards? Ouija boards? Witchcraft? I had the starter pack.
I even studied goetia, which, in case you're not familiar, is just Latin for "What are you doing???"
And it worked, if my goal was to completely break my brain.
I became obsessed with the supernatural. I wanted to know is any of this even actually real? I wanted to see signs, wonders, demons doing backflips, anything.
And then the whispers started. Not cute metaphorical ones. Actual thoughts like:
"Just renounce Jesus. You’ll get everything you want."
I mean, I had already renounced Him with my actions. But no, it wanted me to say it. To speak it.
(If that doesn’t confirm that our words carry power, I don’t know what does.)
And I couldn’t. I didn’t even know why. Later, I would have that revealed.
So yeah, He was still holding on to me, even when I was elbow-deep in occult nonsense and poor life decisions.
Act III: I Invented Rock Bottom (Psych Ward Edition)
Eventually, I cracked. My mind was full of violent thoughts. I was paranoid, anxious, and honestly? Just straight-up not having a good time. So I checked myself into a mental health facility like:
"Hi, I tried to become a wizard and now I’m not okay."
I was there for five days.
And you know what? In that locked unit, surrounded by fluorescent lights and awkward group therapy, I could feel the Holy Spirit pulling on me.
The first night, I lay in bed and started to weep. But I knew the staff were watching, taking notes. I didn’t want them to see me at a breaking point, so I got up and went to the shower; just to hide and let the water cover the sounds of my crying.
I stood there, thinking:
“There are thousands of gods I could pray to… but I only know One who answers.”
And so, I did.
I wept. I prayed.
To the One I had known for so long… and walked away from.
I left that shower with absolute peace.
The next day, I called my pastor. Told him everything. When I got out of the hospital, I brought him the thousands of dollars worth of occult stuff: books, cards, altar cloths, and ritual gear. Almost like a really cursed yard sale. He offered to destroy it all for me so I would not have to bear that burden.
We laid it on the altar that Wednesday night at church, since that's where things go to die.
That night I rededicated my life to Jesus.
Cue confetti, right?
Nope.
A month later, I was out again. That’s the thing about strongholds, they don’t usually say goodbye with a hug and a thank-you card.
Act IV: Three Years of Confusion (A Slow-Motion Faceplant)
The next three years were… weird to say the least. I was spiritually homeless. I didn’t know what I believed. I still trusted the Word in a sense but the "Christian" people around me were so hypocritical and judgmental that I couldn't stomach being a part of that. Was I just going to drift forever and become one of those people who says,
"I’m spiritual, not religious"?
I wasn’t running toward God, but I wasn’t totally gone either. I was just adrift. Tired. And confused.
Act V: The Prodigal Reacts to YouTube
Then it happened.
January 11, 2021. I was watching some Christian YouTubers react to a secular song I liked. Nothing dramatic. Just a night alone and wanted to see what they had to say.
The song was "Blacken the Cursed Sun" by Lamb of God (probably shouldn't look that up; not a Christian band lol). And suddenly the Holy Spirit showed up like a heavily weighted blanket. I recognized that presence immediately.
I said, "I know who you are, but why are you here?" He answered, "I love you too much to let you go."
I completely broke and cried out to God. Sincerely. No script. No performance. Just me and Him.
Over the next few months, I started reading the Bible again. Praying again. Getting real again.
Act VI: Burn It All (Literally)
April 3, 2021, I felt God nudge me hard.
"Burn what’s left."
I still had some occult ties, physical stuff. But I live in the woods and it was super dry.
"How am I gonna do this without starting a forest fire and making the local news?" I wondered.
As I pulled into my driveway, my neighbor randomly had a bonfire going.
So I went inside, searched and grabbed everything I could think of, then tossed it in the fire and watched it burn.
It was probably the most productive thing I’ve ever done with poor financial investments.
Act VII: The Surgery, The Return, and The Plot Twist
Eleven days later, I was in the ER with appendicitis. Surprise! Emergency surgery. Apparently when God said, “Let’s remove what’s killing you,” He meant it both spiritually and physically.
I was out on the 15th. On the 18th, I went back to church. No more excuses. No more running.
On April 21, 2021, after service, a couple named Larry and Linda pulled me aside. They asked:
"Are you 1000% sure you’d see Jesus if you died tonight?"
I knew the answer was yes, but honestly deep down I couldn’t say that with confidence. So, I said “no, honestly I am not”
They prayed with me. Loved me. Reminded me of who Jesus really is. At 8:04 PM, I felt something shift, an actual change, not just some tingles. This was as real as it could get.
Act VIII: Debt Canceled, Car Fixed, Soul Restored
Since then, God’s been on a roll.
I had $20,000 in medical debt from the surgery. No insurance. It’s gone.
My car was trash. God handled that too.
My life? Restored. Deeper. Realer than ever before.
There are many, many more ways that He has proven Himself over these last years. He didn’t just bring me back. He upgraded my heart. I’m not just forgiven. I’m free in Christ Jesus!
What Was Going On Beneath It All
The pretentious and hypocritical attitudes of the “Christians” I encountered didn’t help. At all.
And the fact that so many of them were completely ignorant of Scripture only made it worse.
I’d constantly be told,
“You’re going to hell for this or that.”
(This was definitely not the right way to respond, but I used to quote Matthew 7 out of context and say:
“Well, read Matthew 7. Judge not lest you be judged, by the same measure you judge others. You judged me to hell… so I guess I’ll see you there.”)
And of course, they never knew how to respond. They didn’t even realize I had misused the verse, because they didn’t know the context.
I’m not saying this to be prideful. I’m not proud of how I acted or what I said. I’m just being honest about what I did and why I did it.
If just one person had shown me compassion instead of condemnation…
If someone had said,
“Hey man, I heard you’re going through some stuff. What’s going on? Do you want to talk about it?”
I believe that things would have gone differently.
Let me be clear, there were a few christians that I knew for sure would show me such love, and I avoided them like the plague, knowing that it would destroy the fortress that I had built for myself. However, the vast majority only condemned me.
But in the end, I wouldn’t change what I went through.
Because it brought me to a deeper place of faith and understanding that I am not sure that I would have reached otherwise.
My time in the occult taught me the cost of unanswered questions.
It showed me how spiritual hunger, when ignored or dismissed, can push people toward dangerous counterfeit truths. I’ve seen firsthand what happens when believers are told not to ask, not to wrestle, and not to dig deeper.
That’s why I now feel compelled to tackle hard passages, challenge shallow teaching, and stand in the gap for those who are silently struggling.
Because truth doesn’t fear questions. And discipleship doesn’t stop at salvation. It grows through knowledge, grace, and honest pursuit.
If even one person is kept from drifting because I opened the Word where others closed it, then the struggle was worth it.
Final Scene: You’re Not Too Far Gone
Listen. I don’t know what flavor of nonsense you’ve gotten yourself into. Maybe you’ve dabbled in stuff you shouldn’t have. Maybe you’re drowning in questions. Maybe you’re just… tired.
Let me say this:
You’re not too far gone.
God’s not afraid of your mess. He’s not checking your sin résumé before He decides if you’re worth saving.
He already did. He already paid. He already wants you to come to Him.
“For God so loved the world…” (Yeah, you’re included in “the world.”)
If He could pull me out of that pit, and believe me, it was a deep pit. He can absolutely reach you.
Don’t wait until it takes a YouTube video, a bonfire, and appendicitis.
Come home now.
Disclaimer: This article was polished with the help of AI tools to improve clarity and flow.
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