My journey began on a street corner in November 1991.
That night, a spiritual awakening broke through the crushing exhaustion of my struggle. For the first time in months, I went home and slept—a deep, restorative rest that marked the beginning of something new. The next day, I visited a church and offered a prayer of absolute, unfiltered honesty.
I said to God that unless we were going to deal with everything—the internal mess and all the broken stuff in me that needed fixing—there was no point in trying to reconnect. I didn’t want a surface-level change; I wanted to be made whole.
Decades later, God is proving Himself faithful. He didn’t fix me in an instant; instead, He began an active process of restoration that continues one day at a time. This community is born out of that conviction: that God is not intimidated by our brokenness. He is a Father who meets us in our honesty and walks with us toward healing. This is the very heart of holiness—not a state of human perfection, but a lifelong journey of wholeness that God invites each of us to undertake.
In the years following 1991, restoration manifested in my life as a husband, a father, and a leader. From 1996 to 2010, I served diligently as a worship leader, music director, and Sunday School teacher, while also supporting the recovery community. During this season, I also experienced a clear call to preach the Gospel message under the unction of the Holy Spirit.
Eventually, however, I noticed something was missing. I felt like everything I was doing was about the church and I was exhausted; there was no joy in going to church. The Holy Spirit led me to step down from all service positions so I could understand an implicit truth: I could not impress God by doing works, and that holiness is not a matter of outward compliance or religious etiquette, and that no amount of service can substitute for a heart being made whole by grace.
I entered a season of silence that would last over a decade. In this "wilderness," away from the stage and the spotlights, God began to strip away the performance. He taught me that holiness isn't a standard we conform to; it is the internal work of the Spirit in a heart that is finally honest enough to rest.
The years that followed my season of active service were not years of turning away. Instead, it was a time of deeper integration. Just as a builder must sometimes step back to ensure the foundation is secure, I stepped into a period of listening to ensure my heart was anchored in God’s presence rather than my own performance.
I visited various ministries and continued to fellowship with my local church. My heart remains full of gratitude for everyone God has used to shape my journey. I view my spiritual development much like our natural growth: just as parents do the best they can to raise us based on their own equipping and development, I am thankful for the spiritual leaders who poured into me. They provided the soil in which my faith was planted, and for that, I am forever in their debt.
This next chapter is not a departure from the truth I have always loved; it is a more mature understanding of it. After decades of witnessing God’s active restoration in my life, I have come to see that the Gospel is even more beautiful—and its grace even more sufficient—than I first realized.
We are launching the Daniel Christian Community on Sunday, February 1, 2026. This date is a deliberate tribute to my late mentor, whose sober journey began on February 1, 1980. He was a man who understood that the work of sharing the Gospel is a chain of grace—one that we are called to pass on from one hand to the next. I am not presenting a "new" Gospel; I am simply a man who has been quiet long enough to hear the Father’s heart. I am being restored one day at a time, and I am inviting anyone who would like to join me to walk that same ancient path of grace with me.