The most profound moment of my life. The moment it all changed.
I had been a pretty die-hard atheist for all of my life until the day I stood in this spot at age 41. My parents had been raised Catholic. And while I believe my mother remained a believer, my father became an atheist and heavily influenced our upbringing. He was a physicist and taught us that if we could not see it, we should not believe it. We listened.
I always wished there was a God. As a little girl, I would look at the ceiling as I lay in my bed thinking, “If there is a God, let him show himself.”
We learned to argue about religion early on. Dad would invite any proselytising door-knockers of any faith inside for coffee at the dining room table so he could debunk all of their fanciful notions. He practiced his atheist apologetics and he usually did a good job. In hindsight, my guess is he was in the same boat I was – wishing there was a God. Otherwise, why argue about it?
Anyway, I practiced my atheist apologetics whenever I got the chance as well, and got pretty good at it, too.
That all changed after I flew 2,000 miles, drove hundreds of miles, to this one spot, where I met Jesus in the mountains. I could no longer attribute all of the factors that led to my being there to “coincidence” or “fate” or some other impersonal chance kind of thing.
No, it was personal and profound. As is Jesus himself.
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” Matthew 7:7-8