I grew up in the church and I made the mistake of separating faith and life. I said the sinner’s prayer at age seven which is what you did to become a Christian. I did it because I didn’t want to go to Hell and that was that. It was escaping the fires of Hell. As a seven-year-old, Hell was scary. There were pictures of men screaming with flames all around. I’m not sure if I knew Jesus at seven, but somehow God didn’t let go of me.  After all, I didn’t know much about Jesus, and I certainly didn’t know much about myself at age seven.

I started up my first business at the age of 34. Before that, I was in sales but became very tired of the travel.  I sold my corporate stock, bought a franchise and began a 13-year run in small business. It was hard work, long hours and, at first, quite the dip in salary with few benefits.

You thought things were fine. Your marriage was steady. Your kids are fine, your house is nice, you’ve provided for everyone’s needs (or so you thought), and you get along with your wife most of the time. Sure, there’s the blow up once in a while, sex not as often as you’d like, some pet peeves lying around, but things are mostly good. Then she leaves or tells you to.

The blood-curdling screams came from the backyard. It was my daughter Chloe’s voice. I rocketed out of the recliner where I had been drifting off into a delicious Sunday afternoon nap. In a moment, I was wide awake, heart pounding, blood pumping, mind racing with all the horrific reasons why my 5-year-old daughter would be screaming bloody murder outside.

What a week…business problems, church problems, people problems. It seems all of a sudden that nothing but problems are in my life.