April 4, 1993, I was born dead. I breathed, cried, and everything else that babies did, but there was a sense of pride and selfishness in me already. I was dead spiritually. The world centered around me and I cared little for my creator—the one who created all things. I was born to a Lisa—her third child and first son—and to a Robin—his first child—Johnson. Lisa grew up in a Christian home and acknowledged that Jesus as the Bible portrays him was real, but she wasn’t involved in a local church. Lisa also had two daughters from a previous marriage: Jessica and Lauren. Robin cared very little for religion and was militant against the organized church. At first, the Johnson house was peaceful, or at least I was too young to see the calm before the storm.
In a few years, my parents’ marriage was falling apart. My dad became verbally abusive to both of my sisters and my mother. He hated his job and took it out on everyone at home. Eventually, he quit his job and drew from his retirement. My mom and dad didn’t sleep in the same room. I remember my dad on the couch every night. My mom began to go to church more and more. As she started to go, she took me. At this same time my eldest sister—eleven years older than me—trusted in Christ. They both would read me Bible stories and take me to church on Sundays. I was a slow learner in general, but the words of the Bible were dead to me. It was just another book. My dad would detest my mom’s involvement in church but would let her go and take the children. In third grade, the marriage ended in divorce. My dad would stay in the house several months but eventually moved down the road.
Both of my siblings were in college and very rarely came home. I functionally was an only child. My mom focused all her attention on me. She would pray with and for me in the car on our way to school. She would pray for my dad. This impressed me, how could she care the man who brought her so much pain and misery. Though it impressed me I still didn’t care for this God. I wanted to reject His existence like my dad began to. I could never actually shake my belief in a higher power, but I sure tried to convince myself and mother that He wasn’t real or that He didn’t care. In time though my mom eroded my wall and convinced me to be involved in the church youth group. At twelve my heart began to soften, and I enjoyed the youth group, and the God of the Bible began to intrigue me. I asked to be baptized and repeated the words I need to say to convince the church that I actually trusted in Christ as my savior and would submit to Him as Lord. Yet, as I look back now my life didn’t change at all. As boys do during that time, I grew more interested in girls and saw them, amongst other things, as objects.
I entered high school as a carnal, materialistic, and arrogant. I was decent at wrestling—not nearly as good as I thought. I invested my time in my sport, popularity, and lust. I grew angry and resentful towards both my parents. My dad passed his verbal abuse from my mom and sisters to me after the divorce. He criticized my intellect. He yelled at me for doing poorly in sports. I deserved correction, but I began to view myself as worthless. I expressed this in fits of rage and fought with fellow classmates. After one fight my face severely bruised and cut up. I came home, and my mom crumbled to the floor in tears. She began praying. That night and the following weeks her tears haunted me. I realized the life I was leading would lead me to know where.
My mother’s prayers would soon be answered. Around this time I met Jeremy Bundren on Xbox live through a friend. He was a youth pastor. He took an interest in what I thought and who I was. He asked me questions and invited me to a lock-in at his church. I didn’t go. However, months later a friend brought me to that same church. I never stopped going. This man preached from the Bible in a way that hadn’t seen. He just read it, explained each verse, and applied it to the world around me and my own life. The God of the Bible appalled me and terrorized me, yet I could not hear or read enough about Him. In time God used His Word the Bible to change my heart and mind about him. I noticed my sinfulness and that I deserved wrath. I learned that Jesus was the only remedy and that I could be in right relationship with God and spend eternity with Him if I trust in Jesus Christ’s life, death, and resurrection to pay the price of my sinfulness. Furthermore, I learned that I had to give my whole life to him. That summer of my sophomore year I became a Christian.
Right off the bat, I realized I had to change my attitude towards people in general and women in particular. I began to be more obedient to my mom and care for the souls of others. I started to read the Bible voraciously and reading Christian books. I prayed for those who didn’t follow Christ. I started defending the gospel to others and sharing with others what Christ did for me and what he can do for them. Christ saved me from my sins. He enabled me to fight my lust. He enabled me to endure and forgive the mental abuse I received from my father. My explosive anger slowly dwindled to no outburst at all. Jesus became and still is my primary audience, and I seek to serve Him and Him alone. Do you know Jesus? Do you see your need for Jesus? Will you trust in Jesus and forsake your current way of life?