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  • July 24, 2025
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A Journey from Striving to Surrender: Ed’s Story

I met Jesus at 16—but I never really knew Him.  I once said to my wife, Kim, “Can you imagine if I said ‘I do’ on our wedding day, but then never spent time with you or listened to you?” That’s what my relationship with God felt like: distant, formal, but not intimate.

I got up, went to school, and hung out with my friends. But at night, I’d lie in bed, unsettled and concerned. Years later, I asked God, “Where were You during those moments?” He answered, not with words, but a picture. An angel stood in the doorway of my childhood room, completely covering the entryway, standing guard. And Jesus? He was sitting on the edge of my bed. The blankets were pure white linen, marked with three royal blue stripes at the top. Even in my unawareness, He was there.

Growing up, I was constantly told I was too small, the runt of the litter. “What’s wrong with you?” people would ask.  Every year during my annual check-up, the doctor would say to my parents, “He has the frame of someone who should be over 6 feet tall — what happened?” At the time, I didn’t have an answer. Later, I’d learn to respond with confidence: “Nothing is wrong with me.”

My parents were determined. They gave me every kind of protein supplement, powder, and stretching exercise imaginable in the hope that one day, I’d hit 6 feet. That experience shaped my mindset. I developed my own motto: “Use your head to save your feet.” If I couldn’t outmuscle them, I would outthink them. So I poured myself into school. I worked hard, determined to win in other ways.

To improve my speed and agility, I was enrolled in both figure skating and power skating. I used to joke, “They can’t catch what they can’t see.” Hockey wasn’t just a hobby; it was a serious pursuit in our home. For my dad, it was a mission. One of his sons was going to make it to the NHL. He invested heavily—time, money, and hope. I was seen as the “meal ticket.”

Growing up, ‘chaotic’ doesn’t begin to describe my family life. My parents split up more times than I could count. One example of the instability came when I was just ten years old: my dad left me home alone for several days while he went to Las Vegas with a friend. He handed me $40 for groceries and walked out the door. Later, in university, I was proud of earning a 3.97 GPA and called to tell my dad. His response? “Why didn’t you get a 4.0?” He never came to my graduation.

In my house, the message was clear: love was earned. You were expected to be in the Top 3 of everything. So, I brought that same pressure into my relationship with God: perform, and be loved. But eventually, I got tired. Tired of striving. Tired of never feeling like I was enough.

But everything shifted when I found faith in Jesus.  My passion for the game began to fade.  A trade, a bus accident in 1986, and a string of injuries made it clear: I was nearing the end of the road.  I began to feel a new pull toward business, toward something different.  I had the chance to play hockey in Europe, but I turned it down. Looking back, I still carry some regret over that decision.

A few years ago, I had a dream that would stay with me. I saw two quarter horses, fully tacked and ready. Jesus was on one, and I was on the other, right beside Him. We were in what looked like the Longview area, overlooking a vast bluff toward the southeastern horizon. Suddenly, without warning, I took off riding into the mist—a foggy, almost Shakespearean English landscape. But as I galloped forward, I realized: I have no idea where I’m going. No purpose. No direction.

Eventually, I turned around—looping back—and saw Jesus still waiting, hands resting gently on His saddle horn. He said, “I knew you would return.” After what felt like a long, soul-searching pause, I asked, “So, where is it You want me to go? What do You want me to do?”

He replied simply: “Wait here. Be with Me. Ride with Me. Listen to Me. Trust Me.
There is no need to always be striving or performing.”

The Turning Point

In late 2024, while driving on the freeway, I sensed that it was time to find a place—a community.  Spiritually, I felt lost.  That prompting led me to reach out to Pastor James.  Sitting in his office, I asked, somewhat hesitantly, “Can I come home?”  I felt like the wayward son, worn out from running.  When Pastor James looked at me and said, “Welcome home,” it hit me hard.  I almost lost my composure, which is not a space I usually let myself go to.

On Sunday, July 14, something stirred in my spirit the moment I entered FAC. It wasn’t just a building; it was warm and personal. The greeters, the smiles, even those I met on Main Street… there was a sense of welcome that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

And then, during the service, Pastor James gave the invitation to follow Jesus—to surrender completely.

I leapt out of my chair. I was tired. Tired of running.
I had encountered the Father’s kindness. I had felt the Holy Spirit.
But I could never seem to grasp Jesus. I couldn’t understand how He could love me—so personally, so sacrificially.

Then Pastor  James spoke words I’d been wrestling with for weeks:

  • John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world…”
  • Romans 5:5 – “…God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit…”
  • Hebrews 1:3 – “The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being…”

It was as if God’s Spirit whispered, “Stop thinking.  Accept Me. Trust Me. I love you more than you can imagine. You don’t have to keep running.”

Pastor James closed with a message on Atonement, saying:  “If you take nothing else from these sweet words today, know this: Jesus loves you more than you can ever imagine.” For so long, I’ve seen myself standing at the foot of the Cross, but not believing I was worth it. I saw Jesus reaching out for me, but I always hesitated—afraid, ashamed, unworthy.

But on Sunday, I took His hand.  I stopped turning away from the river’s edge.
I stepped out of the boat.  And I gave Jesus authority over what I’ve been facing.

His hand is strong enough. His love is more than enough.

I need to be honest. Initially, I came to FAC for the brand: the leadership, global network, capital, impressive infrastructure, and distribution reach. That was my lens until I surrendered to Jesus. Since then, through worship, teaching, and the people, we’ve encountered fun, love, acceptance, and forgiveness. In prayer with others, we’ve experienced healing, restoration, and God’s voice guiding and comforting us in tangible ways.

What continually strikes me is the consistency of love, acceptance, and forgiveness, even from people I may not know personally.  Whether close friends or strangers, I see God’s heart reflected in how people interact here. FAC is a place to be yourself.  A place marked by honesty, where the environment—people, technology, structure—captures the senses and provides a place to experience life. God is in the house. And the welcome is real.

I am leaning into community over isolation. I’ve realized that I cannot “lone wolf” my way through life. A significant business challenge humbled me and highlighted the necessity of community and dependence on others (something I had resisted while priding myself on self-reliance).

Despite repeated efforts to leave Calgary (going back to my hockey days), doors consistently closed.  In hindsight, each decision to stay made sense, though it was not always easy to accept.  I have always had a strong pull toward International Business and Missions, likely rooted in my upbringing and cultural exposure.  My father’s appreciation of Asian culture birthed my own dreams of working internationally in Hong Kong, London, and/or Frankfurt.

I’ve been blessed with excellent mentors in education, sports, business and the church. Their investment in my life shaped my growth trajectory. The loss of two key father figures and business mentors has been deeply impactful, both a grief and a reminder of how formative relationships are.

I’ve been intentionally growing through the Word, worship, quiet time, and memorization of Scripture. These rhythms have deepened my relationship with God.  I’ve made my share of mistakes, and I know we will sometimes let each other down.  But when we walk in relationship with Jesus, I believe we can choose to love, accept, and forgive—again.

 

Thank you, Ed, for sharing how you have said “yes!” to Jesus. 

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