From the Brink of Hell to Child of God: My Journey
Steve Johnson • March 13, 2025

It was a beautiful late spring or early summer day in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The sun was shining, around 70 degrees that morning in 1982. It was a busy morning. I returned to my office around 11:30 and looked at my calendar. Unusual for me, there was no lunch appointment. Grabbing my suit coat, I went home. We lived a short drive away.


It was a gorgeous day. During the trip, I thought about one of the morning meetings. There was a woman in the meeting who didn’t like me. Something I said brought a begrudging look of almost respect from her. The thought made me smile if people knew what I was planning.


I was alone for lunch that afternoon, as my wife was at work, a long drive away. Lunch had two items on our table, the first a slushy. We would take lemonade and add enough vodka so the mixture wouldn’t freeze solid. I took a long drink and suffered a brain freeze ache behind my forehead.


The other item on the table was my grandpa’s Colt Woodsman .22LR. How he loved that gun! It had been his pride and joy. Poppa taught me to shoot pistols with that gun. We’d go to the dump and shoot rats, cans, or old washing machines.


Jacking a round into the chamber, I contemplated whether to hold the barrel to my temple or stick it in my mouth.


Suicide seemed logical. Life seemed futile. What had begun as an exercise to look at career options had become an obsessive, self-centered mountain of indecision. It became a sickness of self-absorbed examination and contemplation. My compulsion over the issue was driving my wife and closest friends away. They were sick of hearing, “What should I do?” Implicit in my thinking was how to maximize my career potential and enjoyment.


I retreated into the world of depression after giving up on my friends. During this slide, it became essential to hide my genuine feelings and put a smile on my face.


With all the career scenarios, I played out each option’s best-case and worst-case situation. The inevitable outcome, successful or a disaster, ended in death. Day by day, my mental state slid further down the Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole from self-absorption to self-loathing. Daily, I tried to climb out of the pit of depression. It was like trying to crawl up a bank of soft sand. The more I struggled, the faster I slid down deeper and deeper toward oblivion.


Is it worth putting up with all the pain and hard work? Let’s short-circuit life and get it over with—the permanent solution to a temporary problem.


I thought how funny it was that my work performance was at a peak while I contemplated killing myself. Somehow, I found my death amusing. The unanswered question kept sucking me into a gloomy dungeon with no way out. The more I struggled, the worse it got. The closest I came was that lunch hour.


I withdrew more and more. My wife knew something was wrong, but not how bad. We’d been on a health kick, eating better and exercising. The result was that we were in pretty good physical shape. My wife was strong but tired of my incessant topic. After clamming up more, I came up with my ultimate plan.

My wife didn’t know what to do. The pit of soft sand I’d struggled in became a quicksand trap, pulling me beneath the surface of depression. Not an alcoholic, I did occasionally engage in binge drinking. Rather than an escape from my internal hell, it lubricated the slide deeper into a more dangerous level of thinking.


The drinking to escape helped me push my wife away, which hurt her deeply. So did careless statements to friends. The close friends I’d have a social drink with were gone, replaced by the professional bar crowd who encouraged destructive behavior.


I contemplated life at 3 am in our den—if there would be one. Besides the gun, I inherited Poppa’s Catholic crucifix. I thought deeper about Jesus than ever before as I looked at Jesus on the cross. The plastic body had red smudges on his hands, feet, and side, and a drip from the thorns pressed into his skull.


What pain and agony He endured. I asked, “Jesus, you are God. Why did you have to die such a horrible, painful death?” The words popped into my mind in the first person,


“Because I love you.”


It wasn’t a voice, but in my heart, I knew Jesus had spoken—to me. Overcome by the knowledge that the King of kings, Lord of lords, loves me, I surrendered to Him, my Lord and Savior!


Gentle waves of tender warmth and comfort caressed me to the depth of my being. I knew it was God’s unconditional love. How can you describe God’s love? I don’t believe the human mind can comprehend the depth of love God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit have for us.


There was a physical sense of comfort, warmth, and security, but it paled compared to my pure joy. The Bible says we share the Glory of the Lord. God transformed me from a depressed, suicidal man into a Child of God. It was the love of Jesus, my Savior, which He proved on the cross—a love I gratefully accepted with warm tears of thanksgiving on my knees in our little den.


Life made sense. God created me for a relationship with Him. My purpose was to love God with all my heart and to love others.


Growing up as a Catholic taught me about Jesus and God. I knew Jesus died for humanity. But, the voices from childhood haunted me. My Dad told me, “You’ll never amount to anything.” My Mom put Dad on a pedestal and continually told me. “If you can be half the man your Dad is…” These misguided words convinced me that God’s plan of grace could not include me.


Jesus tells us we don’t have to earn His love. Horrid words from the past told me I wasn’t worthy; it had to include being unworthy of God’s love. If I couldn’t achieve my parents’ love, how could I deserve the love of God Almighty?


That instant when Jesus told me He died such a horrible death because He loved me changed my heart. At last, I had a sense of God’s love for me. That love was demonstrated by Jesus when He died the painful death on the cross. Jesus set much of His Godhead aside to become a man to suffer for us, for me. He loves us. God even loves me.


Meeting Jesus that night and accepting Him as my Lord made me love Him more than anything—no, more than everything in my life. Life hasn’t been perfect, nor have I. But it’s given me a new purpose: to live by faith in a relationship with Christ for God’s glory.


The Christian faith is a love story about God’s love for us. It is personal and anchored by an immovable love that cannot be taken. He loves us so much that even in our most disgusting, sinful nature, Jesus would die for us—would even die for me.


It was years before I shared this story with anyone besides my wife. Finally, I got the courage to share it with some pastor friends. One stated, “That is the message of the cross.”


Why did Jesus die a horrible, tortured death on the cross?


“Because of His infinite love for us. He loves us more than we can fathom.”

By Steve Johnson March 13, 2025
What is an idol? It’s anything that enslaves us and moves ahead of Jesus in our list of priorities. It could be something good, like walking or fitness. I’ve faced mobility challenges for years, first breaking my fibula, which formed a non-union requiring surgery. Then, I had an ankle joint replaced. Next was a knee joint, which became bone-on-bone, leading to a total knee replacement of the first knee. Several years later, the second knee followed the same path. Early in the recovery process, I bought a Fitbit activity tracker that was attached to my pocket. It gave me valuable information as I rehabbed the ankle. Based on my progress, I could objectively assess whether I was getting enough exercise or too much. At some point, it became more than necessary information. On a flight to Dallas, I lost my Fitbit. I panicked and replaced it within a week with a new, improved wrist version; I love my Fitbit! The following year, I had my knee replaced, and my Fitbit let me track how much exercise I was getting again as I rehabbed my knee. My daughter and a friend invited me to be a Fitbit friend. They thought I would be someone easy to beat. As my knee got stronger, I walked longer and more frequently. My first target was five thousand steps daily, then ten thousand, followed by fifteen and twenty thousand steps daily or over ten miles. I planned to crack thirty thousand steps (I did hit 27,000). Then disaster struck—I got two blisters on my right foot. My wife thought I should give it a break. How could I? My steps would fall behind my daughter and my friend. But I conceded and took a break, getting less than five thousand steps—for an entire day! I needed to get back at it today, but I would take it easy with a leisurely walk about 5:30 am around a community lake. It’s my favorite walk and where I have my best prayer time. People talk about having a prayer closet; it doesn’t work for me. When I’m walking, I can focus on communing with God. The time is precious, sacred, and intimate—just me and God. When I first started doing this, I imagined walking beside Jesus. I was walking with my Best Friend. Now, I spend time with the entire Trinity, and it’s even more precious to me. My mobility is the best in ten years, and the prayer time has been great. But my Fitbit has become my master. As I eased into my 1.26-mile walk this morning, I forgot that my Fitbit was charging. It was a great walk and time of prayer. Real intimacy and closeness stirred me on many levels—I was walking in fellowship with God. Then, at the one-mile marker, with only .26 miles to go, I realized my Fitbit was at home. First, I was shocked that I wouldn’t get credit for 3,455 steps on my Fitbit. Then it struck me that I’d had an incredible walk with the Father, but I was moaning about not having my little Fitbit. We laughed (God does have a sense of humor). It was like having the most incredible meal you’ve ever eaten and complaining about not getting a cheesy, paper-wrapped mint from your waiter. I will continue to use my Fitbit, not to compete against anyone, but to keep track of how I’m doing getting exercise. However, I will work to keep my priorities straight and focus on my most important relationship with God, my Savior.
By Steve Johnson March 13, 2025
What makes a glorious sunrise? In my opinion, it’s the right amount and shape of clouds, as well as the positioning of those clouds. Aren’t clouds just water vapor sometimes containing dust particles from the atmosphere? Sometimes we drive through vapor in the form of fog. Depending upon the type of clouds and where they are positioned, as the sun approaches the horizon, there are incredible colors from the light reflected by those clouds. Various shades of the red spectrum and blue spectrum for sure, but the highlights of bright yellow give the scene a vibrant explosive quality. The hand of a master artist couldn’t begin to touch the beauty of ten minutes of this ever changing light display. The beauty of the scene is the reflection of the sun on water vapor. The sun which is too bright to look at, when its light waves bounce off wispy clouds becomes a diverse and beautiful array. Our faith is similar; the sun is analogous to God. His love is reflected off us, His creation. We are all different types, sizes, shapes and colors so the hue of reflected love is different and wonderfully beautiful. It’s a challenge to remember that my reflection of God’s love is a representation of Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross. A love so deep it’s a struggle to grasp how wide and long and high is the love of Christ. My pastor Tom, in a recent sermon said that the number one reason people say they don’t become Christian is because of Christians. He quoted Mahatma Gandi, “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” Tom reminded us to be good ambassadors for Christ. Like the clouds we are a vapor in time, Lord let us be a brilliant reflection of your Glory.