From Ashes to Identity: My Story of Anger, Adoption, and Grace

From Ashes to Identity: My Story of Anger, Adoption, and Grace

I never knew the face of the woman who gave me life. My birth mother vanished from my world before I ever had a memory of her. I was adopted—twice, in fact. That experience came with baggage I didn’t know I was carrying: attachment wounds, identity confusion, a deep fear of abandonment.

As a child, I had no name for what I was feeling. But I knew something was wrong. I broke rules—not because I was defiant, but because I was desperate for attention. I felt a fire in me: a fire to break things… or break me. Often, it did both.

What I now know is this: I was angry. White-hot, blowtorch-inside-my-chest angry. And it wasn’t directed at others—it was directed at me. I thought everyone lived this way. They don’t.

In sports, I saw it surface first. A missed shot on the golf course would send me into a silent internal rage. I wasn’t just frustrated—I was furious. Not because I failed, but because my mistake convinced me I was the failure. I wasn’t living life freely; I was trying not to mess up.

The real tragedy? I didn’t realize any of this until my late 40s.

I’ve lived decades as a man on fire—seen by others as calm, collected, even inspiring—but inwardly crushed by the shame of imperfection. My errors weren’t just slip-ups, they were verdicts. I translated every failure into this brutal lie: I am the problem.

But God.

The only reason I’m not dead or in prison is that God pursued me. The Hound of Heaven chased me down. Even when I was running, He was orchestrating encounters, placing people in my life, creating moments of grace. A few loving friends who saw me, not just my mess, helped stoke a new fire—God’s love burning gently in my bruised heart.

I came to know Jesus—not religion, not shame-based control—but the Jesus of the Bible. He didn’t ask me to clean up my act. He offered Himself as the sacrifice for my brokenness. I finally understood that long before I was abandoned by anyone on earth, I was chosen in heaven.

Maybe you weren’t adopted. Maybe you weren’t physically abused. But maybe—just maybe—you’ve carried a critic in your head for years, one that beats you down every time you make a mistake. Maybe your childhood was chaotic. Maybe it was quiet—but cold. Maybe your pain has no name, only symptoms.

To you, I say: I see you. I’m sorry for what you’ve endured. God sees you too. And He’s not mad at you. He’s madly in love with you.

God sent me with this message: You are loved—completely, unconditionally, and eternally. There is an open invitation to begin again.

Here’s the truth:

• You and I are not perfect.

• To have a relationship with a perfect God, we would need to be perfect.

• The good news? Jesus was perfect, and He traded places with us.

• He lived the life we couldn’t and died the death we should have—so we can live.

If you’re ready, say this out loud:

God, I know my life is broken. I believe Jesus came to live, die, and rise again to rescue me. Forgive me. I turn from my ways and put my trust in You.

Romans 10:13 says, “For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

I imagine heaven throwing a celebration every time someone prays that. You’re not stepping into a fairytale. You’re stepping into purpose. Life won’t get magically easier—but it will get more meaningful.

Next steps?

• Download the YouVersion Bible App.

• Pick a simple plan (like “First Steps with Jesus”).

• Start talking to God in simple prayers.

• Ask questions. Write them down. Listen.

• Let trusted people love you well. And learn to love yourself through God’s eyes.

I’m now 30 years into my walk with God. Growth has been slow, like water carving through stone—but it has come. I’m not perfect. But I’m not who I used to be. And neither are you.

Let God love you. Let others in. Start smiling like a person who’s been forgiven. Because you are.

The world is waiting for your story.