I have listened to some Christian testimonies and even remember the way I told my own when I first recognized God and wanted Him in my life. The testimonies are often like a horror movie given in vicious detail, complete with gore, all the way up to the closing credits, ending with the statement “and the monster died.” Like many witnesses, I was preoccupied, even glorified, what a horrible and miserable person I was. I was spending more time looking over my shoulder at what was than I was at the person who was rescuing me during the entire time and the future that was now before me.

Some of the greatest miracles in my life happened before I ever called myself a Christian. I look back and think about the choreography of people who were placed in my life, giving me insights that led to my recognizing what needed to happen if I wanted to survive. I think about all the people who put the virtues of heaven on display and showed that what I was doing was really awful, and what was possible to be truly desirable. I think about the close calls that made me realize there might be another hand in life beyond my own or the people around me.

There were many little and big things that proved, eventually, that life was more than a natural phenomenon. I’m not sure how some changes happened. I looked upon other’s kindness as something to use selfishly until the day I began to feel really cruel and ugly when I did it. I might’ve felt cruel and ugly the entire time while lying to myself that it didn’t bother me, but I did become aware of the selfish cruelty. That single change may have been one of the most important miracles. I became aware that I was accountable for being bad, instead of blaming everything and everyone else. There was an entire host of related mini revelations that made repentance a relatable choice instead of an anger inducing insult.