I was at the end of an ever-fraying rope when I wandered into a southern California church. Sick of who I was, and how I was living, I sat down on a pew and nervously awaited what I hoped would be a divine intervention (I sure as heck needed one). Years of drug and alcohol abuse had left me desperate for a fresh start and a new way to “be.” One hour and fifteen minutes later, I found exactly what I had been looking for (funny how that works). A faithful congregant led me in the “sinners prayer,” gave me a brand new cellophane-wrapped bible, and sent me on my way with the belief that God had created me, sent his son to die for me, and had a wonderful plan for my life.
I ate it up and drank it in. I needed it.
Wesley serves on TCP's Communications, Forum, and Recruiting Committees.
From all the way across the globe in Paraná, Brazil, I was born into a Presbyterian home. My father is a pastor and my mother also studied in a seminary. Since an early age, I’ve asked some tough questions about faith and the doctrines that I heard in the church, but since people gave me no answer that satisfied me, I ended up searching for answers on my own.
I remember myself asking my mother about the origin of god when I was only six years old. At age 10, I wondered about predestination, about the lack of forgiveness for blasphemy against the holy spirit, and about whether Christianity really was the true religion.