In 1970, I was 21 years old, living in Greenville, Mississippi.
My wife and I were close friends with a young man named Rudy Roach—he later joined the Army and went through basic training at Fort Polk in Louisiana.
We visited him for his graduation, and that’s when we ended up in an old, run-down motel. I had a splitting headache and decided to take a nap.
When I woke up, my headache was gone. Everyone else was still asleep. I looked around the room—and that’s when I noticed a Gideon Bible on the nightstand.
I had never owned a Bible before. I picked it up, flipped through the pages, and landed in the Book of John.
< The words jumped off the page. They were alive. And right there, I believed what I was reading—by faith.
That was the moment I gave my life to Jesus Christ.
From that day forward, I couldn’t stop reading His Word. For over 55 years now, I’ve read the Bible nearly every day.
My son told me once, “Dad, when I was a kid, I remember you were always in the kitchen, reading your Bible every morning.”
But let me be honest—my life hasn’t been perfect. I’ve sinned. I’ve made mistakes. And I still live with the consequences.
But I’ve repented. And God has been faithful to forgive me, to restore me, and to never let go of me.
I share this story not to glorify my past, but to glorify the One who rescued me in a forgotten motel room and gave me a new beginning.
“The entrance of Your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple.” — Psalm 119:130
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