If anyone had told me that I’d be writing this book,
I would have laughed and just blown them off. Writing a book based on God wasn’t
a feasible or even a fathomable notion, yet if I didn’t live through what you’re
about to read, I never would have believed it myself.
To be honest and to
the point, I never believed in God. As far as I was concerned, He was an
epitomized celestial ruler created by the people who wrote the Bible. But then
my life spun out of control. I was hit over the head with some hardcore
problems, and when I came to, some very supernatural and unexplainable
occurrences began to take place. As these chains of events unfolded, my doubt
slowly turned into belief, and what I believed to be all in my mind turned out
to be divine intervention. Now, for the first time in my life I believe, and if
there’s one thing that I can be certain of, it’s this: If you’re reading this,
then it was His divine plan for you to do so.
I have to admit, I was
always an obsessive person with an analytical nature—never one to engage in anything that negated my
reasoning process. More to the point, if it didn’t make sense then I dismissed
the thought. Even cartoons or animated shows turn me off. So naturally, having
something so fantastic yet unrealistic take place put me in a position to wonder
about my sanity. But ever since that day when my mother handed me the rosary
beads, which once belonged to my father, I found myself in a quandary. Should I
pray or would it be just another waste of time?