The Westminster Confession of Faith
Chapter 5 (Providence), Section V
The most wise, righteous, and gracious God does oftentimes leave, for a season, His own children to manifold temptations, and to the corruption of their own hearts, to chastise them for their former sins, or to discover unto them the hidden strength of corruption and deceitfulness of their hearts, that they may be humbled; and to raise them to a more close and constant dependence for their support upon Himself, and to make them more watchful against all future occasions of sin, and for sundry other just and holy ends.
Scripture warns us to be careful about whom we entrust with the deepest parts of our testimony. Through the eyes of those who are opposed to the things of Jesus, our testimony may not only go unappreciated but can even be weaponized against us. Sadly, I can personally attest to this—surprisingly, in my case, by people closest to me.
Matthew 7:6
“Do not give what is holy to dogs, and do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they trample them underfoot and turn and tear you to pieces.”
As believers mature, some of the most treasured parts of our testimony often become the most challenging—and the most difficult—to confess. There are also aspects of my testimony that I avoid sharing out of sensitivity to others who lived through those events with me.
Today, however, I want to discuss a season of my life as it relates to the passage quoted above from the Westminster Confession of Faith. If you are interested in understanding my doctrinal beliefs more fully, you may refer to that document. My faith aligns closely with this confession, with only a few minor differences in areas I consider of little importance.
My life changed dramatically in December of 2017, shortly after returning from a family ski trip to Colorado. My wife—and the mother of my three children—asked me to move out and informed me of her intention to file for divorce. I will not discuss the circumstances surrounding that situation here, and I likely never will. She is now happily remarried, and I have remained single ever since.
That moment marked the beginning of the most difficult season of my life. What followed over the next seven years—ironically, seven being the biblical number of completeness—became some of the most painful, humbling, life-altering, and unexpectedly beautiful experiences I could have ever imagined.
I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior as a teenager and was baptized many years ago at church camp. Yet during this seven-year period, the things I endured often caused me to question the validity of my salvation.
Shortly after realizing my marriage was truly over, I reached an emotional place I was completely unprepared to handle. I was in utter despair—disappointed in her, disappointed in myself, angry at God for allowing it to happen, and heartbroken for my children. I was also struggling with the realization that some friendships had faded and were not what I believed them to be.
In my anger, I began drinking. During nearly twenty years of marriage, alcohol had rarely been a part of my life—and never in excess. Scripture warns us against sinning in our anger.
Ephesians 4:26
“Be angry and do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry.”
I had read and heard that verse countless times, but in reflection, it has never held more weight than it does now. Sinning under temptation is one thing; sinning through choices born of anger—especially anger directed at God—is quite another. I knew it was wrong when I stopped at the liquor store, but I did so out of despair and disgust with my circumstances. Later, I continued because alcohol seemed to offer temporary relief from the daily pain.
The pain was always worst in the evenings. Returning alone to an empty apartment was torture.
From there, I became trapped in a vicious cycle—trying to manage my personal and professional responsibilities during the day, only to numb myself with alcohol at night and on weekends. I always knew how destructive it was and repeatedly tried to pull myself out, occasionally experiencing brief seasons of success before falling back into old habits.
Looking back now, I can honestly say that nearly 95 percent of the worst decisions I have made in my life occurred under the influence of alcohol—especially during this time. Though I won’t go into details, there were many moments when I believed I had reached rock bottom, only to discover that things could still get worse.
Yet in spite of my near-daily disobedience, not a single day passed without prayer or the persistent voice of the Holy Spirit—admonishing me, encouraging me, and attempting to guide me despite my resistance and weakness. I was constantly attacked by Satan, who told me my situation was hopeless. Worse still, I frequently feared that I was not saved at all—that I was beyond redemption.
I felt unbearably distant from God. I understood that this distance was the result of my own sin and lack of obedience. The shame and disappointment I felt were overwhelming, compounded by the physical toll of living that way. I was in my fifties—no longer young—and the consequences were undeniable.
A couple of years ago, my youngest daughter invited me to attend a local church with her. I accepted, and it remains a gift from her that I will always treasure. Not long afterward, she introduced me to James, the stepfather of one of her close friends. James invited me to attend Celebrate Recovery meetings at a nearby church.
Almost immediately, I felt convicted that attending those meetings would mark the beginning of the Lord’s redeeming and healing work in my life. True to form, however, it took me nearly a year to follow through. Looking back, I feel foolish for the delay.
Even now, I don’t fully understand why it took so long—but one thing I am absolutely certain of is this: Jesus was with me every single day, patient and faithful, never leaving me.
Once I began attending the meetings and moved past the initial awkwardness, I realized I was gathering weekly with people just like me—people exhausted from trying to rule their own lives, worn down from doing things their own way, contrite and finally ready to surrender control to Jesus.
There was no pretense. No pretending. I was free to be honest about my brokenness, just as others were. We confessed our struggles openly, without judgment—only understanding and compassion. It was remarkable.
Today, I am doing much better. I finally feel that I am walking the path the Lord has for me. I seek Him daily with genuine joy and anticipation. To say that I am content would be an understatement. The Lord has shown me that He truly is enough—not only sufficient, but abundantly satisfying. He fills my life with an overflow of peace and joy I never knew was possible.
I feel a growing responsibility to encourage others—to help those who do not yet know Him, and to urge believers to remain steadfast in their pursuit of Him. Degree by degree, He sanctifies us. Little by little, we draw nearer to Him. As our faith matures and our knowledge of Him deepens, joy and confidence increase, bringing lasting peace.
In closing, I want to say this: the Lord knows us far better than we know ourselves. That much is certain. Once we are saved and justified, the work of sanctification begins—the lifelong process by which, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are separated from sin and conformed more and more into the image of Jesus.
God promises by His own name that He will bring His work in us to completion, either in this life or at the return of His Son. Scripture never promises that this process will be easy. On the contrary, it is often painful—at times immensely so.
As stated in the opening quote from the Westminster Confession of Faith, there are seasons when the Lord, in His wisdom, allows us to experience the depth of our depravity so that we more fully grasp our need for the blood of His Son. Jesus did for us what we could never do for ourselves. He took our sins—past, present, and future—and imparted to us His righteousness, so that one day we may dwell with Him in glory.
