A Remorseful and Hopeful Testimony

I speak now as a man who has lived long enough to see the truth of his own failures. My life has been marked by choices that broke hearts, shattered trust, and wounded the people God entrusted to me. I cannot hide from it anymore. Like Adam in the garden, I once tried to cover myself with excuses, but the voice of the Lord kept calling, “Where art thou?” (Genesis 3:9). Today, I answer honestly.

Five Marriages, Four Betrayed by My Own Sin

I entered marriage lightly, without reverence, without fear of God. Five times I stood before witnesses and vowed faithfulness. Four times I broke those vows with my own unfaithfulness. I lived as though the commandment “Thou shalt not commit adultery” (Exodus 20:14) was a suggestion, not a holy boundary.

My arrogance convinced me I deserved more than what I had. I chased pleasure, attention, and validation, leaving behind a trail of broken promises. Only in my last marriage did I remain faithful, but even that came after years of damage done. It was not righteousness that kept me faithful—it was the exhaustion of sin finally catching up to me.

Estranged From My Children

I have four children who grew up learning to live without their father. My sins did not stay contained within my own life; they spilled into theirs. Scripture warns, “Be sure your sin will find you out” (Numbers 32:23), and mine found me in the silence between me and my children.

I forfeited the right to guide them. I forfeited the right to be trusted. I forfeited the right to be present. I cannot blame them for the distance—they learned it from me.

Addiction: The Chains I Chose

Drugs and alcohol became my refuge when conviction grew too loud. Instead of turning to God, I turned to the bottle and the needle. I lived the truth of Proverbs 23:29–30: “Who hath woe? who hath sorrow?… They that tarry long at the wine.”

I numbed myself to avoid facing the man I had become. But every morning, the pain returned heavier than before. Addiction was not something that happened to me—it was something I embraced to escape responsibility.

Arrogance: The Root of My Downfall

Pride was the throne I sat upon. I believed I could outrun consequences, outtalk conviction, outmaneuver God Himself. But “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18). My fall was long, and it was deserved.

I hurt others because I refused to see myself truthfully. I hurt myself because I refused to bow my head.

The Last Twenty Years: Learning to Trust God for All

Somewhere along the way—broken, tired, and out of excuses—I finally turned toward God. The last twenty years of my life have been a slow, painful, beautiful lesson in learning to trust Him for everything. Not just for forgiveness, but for daily bread, for direction, for strength, for sobriety, for humility, for hope.

I learned that “God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble” (James 4:6). I learned that His mercy is not earned—it is received. I learned that even when I was faithless, He remained faithful.

These years have not erased my past, but they have taught me to walk differently. To speak differently. To see differently. To live with open hands instead of clenched fists.

At 68 Years Old: A Heart Full of Regret and Hope

Now, at 68 years old, I look back with many regrets. I long for a redo, a chance to be the man I should have been. But time does not run backward. What I broke cannot be unbroken by my own strength.

Yet even in this, I find hope. For the thief on the cross had no redo, no chance to fix his past, no opportunity to make amends—and yet Jesus said to him, “To day shalt thou be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43).

If mercy reached him, perhaps it can reach me too.

A Cry for Mercy Before My Final Breath

I do not know how many days remain for me. But before my final breath, I pray for forgiveness—not because I deserve it, but because God is merciful. Like David, I cry, “Have mercy upon me, O God… blot out my transgressions” (Psalm 51:1). And I cling to the promise that “a broken and a contrite heart… thou wilt not despise” (Psalm 51:17).

I cannot undo the past, but I can surrender the future. I can walk humbly. I can seek reconciliation where possible. I can live as a man forgiven, not a man pretending.

If grace finds me before the end, it will be the greatest miracle of my life.