Seek The Lord!

Emily T.

I was raised in the Catholic Church. The sacraments: Baptism, First Communion, Confirmation - really didn’t mean anything to me. They weren’t important and didn’t really show me who God is. Yes, I knew the story. Jesus died for our sins. So what? I didn’t know this God intimately. I didn’t feel His love that now comforts my soul, or know the numerous blessings He loves to give. God wasn’t the center of my life. I was. This fact was brought to my attention by His grace and love for me. Continue Reading »

Kristin R.

Knowing that God exists is one thing; loving that God is another. Although I grew up in a Christian family in which God and Jesus were talked about on a regular basis, I was more afraid of God than in love with him. God was sovereign over everything, and could do anything - and I was just a wimpy kid. I heard people talk about how much Jesus loved people, but that didn’t always register with me - especially since I got the impression that following the rules was the real reason God loved Christians. I was relatively certain that God didn’t love people who weren’t rule followers, so I made every effort to be a good rule follower… Continue Reading »

Jim M.

In Feb of 1999, a few months after my 17th birthday, I found myself in the Fayette Adult Detention Center (GA). I was there on account of a drug deal gone “bad”. I began selling drugs to cover the costs of my own use and to gain respect and popularity among my peers, but gradually it became a small-time business, bringing in between $500-1500 in profit per week. Further, I was on the verge of expanding the business as plans were being set for me to become a distributor of larger quantities of marijuana that would be flown in from NC. At the same time, my relationships with dealers of ecstasy in Atlanta were increasing and deepening. Such plans were far from my mind, however, as I sat in jail contemplating how I had been busted, and how I was going to get out. Continue Reading »

Chris M.

I grew up in a Christian home. My dad was even a pastor, so I was always around the church. Every time the doors were open, we were there. When I was about 5 years old, I said a prayer to “ask Jesus into my heart,” but nothing really changed in my life. I was the “good” little pastor’s son before I prayed that prayer and the same “good” little pastor’s son afterwards…at least on the outside. Continue Reading »

Jimi A.

It was a typical assignment for a newspaper photographer and I arrived late. It was Sunday morning March 11th 2001, and I was at a small church in Aurora, Illinois. Praise and worship music was playing as I walked past the church pews down the center aisle to the front, where I knelt down to begin photographing the pastor. As I looked up at the worship leader, I felt tears sting my eyes again. But I held them back. Here in this church, at the front of the aisle - I was at the end of my road. Continue Reading »