I remember it like it was yesterday, though it was sometime in the late seventies. Mary and I were just beginning to understand what it meant to truly awaken, to rise up into the new life that only Jesus can offer. It was more than a conversion. It was a holy disruption. Life as we knew it came to an abrupt halt, and something indescribable, something sacred, began.
We didn’t know at the time that this was the beginning of a whole new ministry, or that we would help others navigate the aftershock of awakening to real life in Jesus. But that’s exactly what happened. And so we founded Eternalight Ministries, and its outreach wing, Spiritual Bootcamp & Street Fellowship, in Centralia, Washington. It was a safe space for new believers who found themselves confused, displaced, and overwhelmed by the raw newness of it all.
Once you awaken in new life with Jesus, you can’t go back.
That realization hit us hard. Friends we used to laugh with suddenly felt foreign. Conversations felt like noise. The gatherings we once enjoyed now rang hollow. It wasn’t judgment, it was disconnection. Like our spirits had been rebooted, and the old software didn’t run anymore.
I remember sitting at dinner with folks we once called family. Jokes, gossip, the usual banter, none of it meant anything anymore. It was like we were floating outside our own bodies, watching a world that no longer recognized us. And the feeling was mutual. We’d mention Jesus, and they’d get uncomfortable. We’d talk about the Holy Spirit, and they’d glance at each other as if to say, What happened to Dave and Mary?
What happened was… Jesus happened.
The scariest part of waking up in the love of Jesus is that everything familiar falls away. Our identities were no longer rooted in what we did, who we knew, or where we’d been. They were rooted in who we belonged to. And with that clarity came loss: the loss of fitting in, the loss of old patterns, the loss of shallow comforts.
But with that loss came freedom.
The kind of freedom that takes time to adjust to. It’s like being released from a prison you didn’t know you were in. At first, you miss the walls. You miss the predictability. You miss the noise that kept you numb. But then the silence becomes holy. The solitude becomes sacred. And slowly, you start to breathe again, not just with your lungs, but with your soul.
Eternalight Ministries became more than just a church project. It became a beacon. A lighthouse for the freshly awakened.
Reaching out to others in music was a way to greet others who were searching. Norman, my brother in Jesus, and I created an extension of our ministries, Eternalight Studios, in Centralia. We played music together and had been in several Christian bands, and we wanted to help others extend their ministries through their music.
We met young people who had their own stories, people who had seen through the lie of the world and didn’t know where to go next. They weren’t looking for religion. They were looking for Jesus. Real Jesus. The one who flipped tables, touched the untouchables, wept with the broken, and loved without condition.
Mary and I walked with them. We didn’t have all the answers, but we had the same fire. We created Spiritual Street Fellowship for those who didn’t feel at home in pews or with polished church traditions. We met at the Lincoln Building, in homes, on street corners, in borrowed spaces, wherever the Spirit led. What we offered was simple: unconditional love, guidance through the fog, and the truth that you are not alone in this new life.
We didn’t preach at people. We walked with them. We held space for their grief, the grief of leaving behind a false world. We cried with them when old friends fell away, and rejoiced with them as new relationships, holy ones, were formed.
This was the love of Jesus in action:
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- Not judgment, but compassion.
- Not condemnation, but invitation.
- Not tradition, but transformation.
It wasn’t about perfection. It was about presence. About living in the now with the awareness that Jesus lives in you, and through you, and with you, always.
No one talks much about the after of awakening. The days that follow the lightning bolt. The hours when everything feels unfamiliar and every step feels like a risk.
But that’s where Jesus walks the closest. That’s where the deepest healing happens. That’s where new life takes root.
We were grateful beyond words for that season. For the awkward beginnings, the hard conversations, the divine isolation that made room for revelation. And above all, for the love that grew between us, in us, and around us.
We saw it in each other. We saw it in those we served.
Life after awakening isn’t always easy. But it is always true. And once you’ve tasted truth, there’s no going back.
You don’t need to go back.
You were made for forward.