I never grew up with God. Nobody in my family talked about Him. None of my friends prayed. Religion was something you saw on TV when the Pope appeared or when a politician wanted to look holy. For me, it was never real.
I carried the word “atheist” like a badge. Sometimes, if I felt a little softer, I’d admit to being agnostic. But most of the time, I thought I was too clever, too logical, too awake for faith. That was for other people. Weak people. I believed I didn’t need it.
But even with that pride, I was restless. Something in me knew I hadn’t found the truth.
The internet became my escape. Nights turned into mornings as I sat in front of a glowing screen. Forums, Reddit threads, conspiracy websites — I went down every rabbit hole. Politics. Finance. Secret societies. Symbols hiding in plain sight.
The strangest thing was this: no matter how far I dug, all roads seemed to lead back to Jesus Christ. I didn’t want that to be true. I didn’t even believe He was real. But why did His name keep showing up? Why did all the rituals mock Him, twist His image, or try to invert His story? If He was a myth, why did power itself keep circling around Him?
That thought wouldn’t leave me.
I didn’t turn to the Bible. Instead, I went into the New Age. Acupuncture, breathwork, kundalini. Anything that felt like energy. I told myself I was unlocking secrets that religion had buried.
Semen retention became my obsession. Online, people called it a transmitter. A booster. A hidden power source. I believed it. I thought if I held on, I could connect to something higher.
At first, it felt like it was working. But then the cracks came. By day twenty, I thought I was losing my mind. My head buzzed with pressure I couldn’t explain. Nights were the worst. I lay awake, certain I was breaking down. I Googled schizophrenia. I read about psychosis. None of it gave me answers.
What I didn’t realize then was that I was feeding something darker. Demons are real, and they feed on the things you think give you power.
Looking back, I see why I never sought God earlier. The whole system is designed to make Him look fake. They put the Pope on TV. They turn church into performance. They fill religion with traditions and rituals that Jesus Himself never taught. And so you think, “If that’s Christianity, I don’t want it.”
That’s where I was. Blind. Proud. Lost.
Everything changed one night in late April. It was around 7:30. My four-year-old son was asleep beside me.
I put my hands together. And suddenly, He came.
I don’t know if it was in the room or in my head, but it was real. A presence I couldn’t deny.
I froze. And then conviction hit me like a freight train. I felt every sin, every addiction, every filthy thing I had done. I was a naughty boy caught red-handed.
In that moment, the truth was clear. If He exists, then heaven exists. If heaven exists, then hell exists. And He was real.
I started coughing, as if something inside me was leaving. My body shook. I felt like my whole being was being scrubbed clean.
That was the night I was born of the Spirit.
The next morning, nothing was the same. Words I used casually before now felt wrong. Jokes I used to make suddenly felt dark. It was like spiritual training wheels — I couldn’t move without feeling His guidance.
I was sober. Not from alcohol, but in a way I had never experienced. Awake. Aware.
But meeting Jesus didn’t make life easier. It made life harder in a different way. Because once you’re His, the attacks come.
At night, I felt tingles all around the bed. Sometimes I felt choked in my sleep, hands that weren’t there pressing on my throat. Other times I heard mocking laughter, like witches cackling.
To most people, that sounds insane. But to anyone who’s met Him, it makes sense. The Bible says they thought Jesus was crazy. They’ll think you’re crazy too.
I realized I wasn’t imagining things. This was spiritual war. Demons are real. They attack, they mock, they tempt.
Deliverance became part of my life. My ears rang and popped when I prayed. I coughed things up. My body shook violently.
It wasn’t sickness. It was demons losing their grip.
I even saw it happen to others. Once, I prayed over a man who mocked God. His ear cracked and popped as I prayed. Three days later, he admitted something had changed.
The power of Christ drives them out. I couldn’t deny it.
There were moments that showed me how strange this battle can be. One night during prayer, I broke into uncontrollable laughter mixed with crying. Someone told me it sounded like a witch’s cackle.
I knew exactly what it was. The Jezebel spirit. A mocking demon that laughs, taunts, and resists the prophetic. It had to go. And it did.
Another time, I was hit with a temptation that scared me. For about an hour, I felt an overwhelming urge to be trans. It came like a wave — strong, alien, not mine. And then it vanished.
That’s how Satan works. Thoughts that aren’t yours get planted. Desires that feel foreign appear out of nowhere. Without Christ, you might give in. With Him, you see the lie for what it is.
The intensity grew. I knew I couldn’t carry it alone. So I left. I flew to Thailand, searching for other born-again believers.
In a small church, people laid hands on me. Electricity ran through my body. It startled me. I wondered if it was real or counterfeit. But then I remembered: I had felt the same electricity the night Jesus came to me.
So I trusted Him.
Later, in Greece, I felt the same call. As if God was pulling me closer and closer to Jerusalem.
By day forty-four of semen retention, things were getting out of control. By day forty-seven, I was seeing demons in the eyes of people on YouTube. Politicians, celebrities, even strangers.
Some call that discernment of spirits. Others call it madness. To me, it was both.
The pressure became unbearable. I finally gave in. I “milked” myself just to stop it. That’s when I realized the truth: without Christ, these practices only destroy you. They are counterfeit. Only Jesus saves.
Looking back now, I can see the thread running through my life.
Atheism gave me logic. Logic led me to Christ.
Conspiracies showed me that even evil acknowledges Him.
The New Age gave me power, but it was counterfeit power.
Addiction showed me I was a slave.
And Jesus set me free.
We live in strange times. People chase conspiracies. They dabble in New Age. They debate flat earth. They’re searching. Just like I was.
I believe more people will come to Christ this way — through the back door. Not through stained glass and pews, but through logic, through questions, through brokenness.
It will look messy. People will call it crazy. But they called Him crazy too.
One night, everything I thought I knew fell apart. And He came.
Now I can’t deny Him. Not to myself. Not to anyone.
This is my testimony.
