When A Would-Be Murderer Encounters God

I was eighteen and had just shut down an international drug ring I’d been out of Colombia using my cousins and friends as my crew. The drug ring was what I used to make money in my junior and senior years of high school, and even though the drug ring was finished, I still carried a loaded 9 millimeter, always ready to protect myself from rival dealers. I felt responsible for those around me, and I would use the gun without hesitation. It was my job, my mindset.

During those years, something happened that would rattle me and redirect my life course. My older brother had come home one day claiming that he’d had a life-altering encounter with God after listening to a street preacher. I couldn't comprehend it. My brother had always been as hard-nosed as I was. I figured he had fallen victim to madness or manipulation. But as time progressed, he didn’t let go of his delusions. He kept insisting God was real, and that he had met him. I became furious.

My brother was my flesh and blood. Some preacher had obviously gotten under his skin and psychologically messed with him and tricked him into believing all of this God nonsense. No one could harm my family like this. And given that I was an angry young man, bitter towards life, I was all too eager to find someone to blame for my troubles — the latest being my brother’s sudden change of lifestyle that had left me to wallow in the mud of life alone. I decided to get revenge.

A Murderous Journey

I flew 3,000 miles to Los Angeles, determined to hunt down and kill the street preacher who I believed had corrupted my brother by converting him to Christ. On the plane, thoughts of murder consumed me. The more I thought about this man somehow brainwashing my brother on the spot, the more I saw red. I was convinced that killing him was justified. I landed in Westwood, California (a popular hangout spot at the time) and began to meticulously plan and plot my attack.

I began to tirelessly search for the preacher, walking back and forth within a two-mile radius of Westwood. The first night yielded no results, but I was patient and settled in for a long haul even going so far as to get a job at a local pizza joint so I could monitor the area during work and then expand my search during my off hours. It took me two months, but finally, I found my man.

I stumbled upon him one night during my searches. He was a young man, not far from my age, he matched my brother’s descriptions of him and was standing on the street corner, Bible in hand, preaching the Gospel. I didn’t act immediately. I kept my distance, noticing he came to the same spot regularly, and I contemplated when and if to make my move.

Revenge Disrupted

Finally, on a packed Friday night, I was watching him make his bold claims about God and his love and his forgiveness amidst a mix of listeners and skeptical onlookers. But for me that night, it ignited hatred. 

Looking back, I believe something demonic influenced me. I felt darkness consume me, and I desired to kill the man with my bare hands, no weapons required. I wasn't under the influence of drugs or alcohol, but I had no trouble falling into a deeply deluded rage. Charging towards him, I pushed through whatever and whoever stood between us. I didn’t hear people’s protests or complaints as I barrelled through them. I was focused on one thing and one thing only; reaching and inflicting as much harm as possible upon the man standing in front of me holding the Bible.

I closed in on him within seconds. But when I reached within a few feet of him, something struck me. Or rather I struck something. It felt like an invisible force had halted me like a solid wall bringing me to an abrupt stop though there was nothing to be seen. Thinking about my brother, manipulated and coerced, blind rage coursed through my bones but my feet and body could take no further step. I was determined to murder. I was determined to harm. What was happening?

Suddenly, an unprecedented fear gripped my soul. I had already experienced plenty of near-death encounters due to my violent lifestyle, yet this was different. Something had seized my soul from within and my body refused to move under its grip—God himself had a hold of me. It suddenly became clear that I wasn't opposing a mere man; I was defying God. It shook me to my core. Even now, I'm in awe of how God had me in his thoughts while I was oblivious to him. I had nothing to offer except fear, darkness, shame, guilt, and rebellion. It's unfathomable. It reminds me of Jesus' words on the cross, "Father, forgive them. They don't know what they're doing." Neither I nor his executioners sought forgiveness, but God had a plan.

At that moment, all my problems—bitterness, hatred, and anger—were laid bare. It turns out my conflict was not with this street preacher, it was with God, and he wasn't pleased. I felt an immediate fear of a rightly deserved death. I had been a fighter, both in and out of the boxing ring, but it felt like God had just delivered a powerful blow that shook the foundation of my soul. 

Redirected

I had stood frozen on the spot for a long moment. The preacher seemed not even to notice me. I walked away, head down, pondering what had just transpired. My rage had given way to existential fear, and although I hadn't yet encountered Jesus, that episode was the beginning of a huge change in my life.

I remember walking seven miles through Santa Monica that night, contemplating and trying to make sense of what had just happened and the stunning revelation that was unfolding. As I reached the room I had rented, the impact of the experience overwhelmed me. Without delay, I flew back to the East Coast and returned home to a worried mother and family. It felt like a failed mission, my intended purpose was unfulfilled — but God’s purposes in my life were just starting to unravel. 

Want to know what happens next? Read the rest of my story in my FREE E-BOOK: Why Not You? If God could change my life, he can change anybody’s! DOWNLOAD IT HERE!