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Much of my Christian experience has come through the "School of Hard Knocks," better known as prison. I was raised in church and Sunday school, but God wasn't very important to me in my younger years. Alcohol and other drugs seemed to offer much more fun and excitement than thinking about God. It was that combination, along with my jealousy and temper, that resulted in a two-and-a-half-year stay in the Wisconsin state prison system following abuse of my wife and fighting with the police who came to investigate. I knew that I deserved the sentence I eventually received, but I was embarrassed by what people would think and upset that I would not be very much involved in my children's lives while I was in prison.

When my pastor heard about my problems, he invited me to attend a prayer group that had started at the church. I began to attend, knowing I would need all the prayer I could get in the months and years ahead. My relationship with God began to grow at that point, and continued during my stay in prison through my personal Bible study and participation in study groups. My local church supported me with prayer and letters, and I began to believe that my life was worth something.

As my faith grew, I hungered for an even deeper experience of God. One night, while fasting, I skipped supper and spent about twenty minutes kneeling by my bunk in prayer. I cried out, "Lord, reveal yourself! I really want to know you." Suddenly a light, brighter than anything I had ever seen before, surrounded me. A tingling sensation went through my body and I knew that God had touched me deeply. I was filled with God's joy and peace. When my cellmate returned from supper, he said, "Tim, what in the world happened to you?" I told him and he couldn't wait to get out of the room. The guards and other inmates could see the difference as well. Some were happy for me and others just waited for me to fall.

What difference has this made in my life? The joy and peace remained during the rest of my time in prison and since I've returned home. I often marvel at it, because of what I continue to go through with embarrassment about being an ex-con, financial and health problems, family concerns, and much more. God has also delivered me from any desire for alcohol and other drugs. The joy I find in the Lord is much greater than anything I thought I was finding in those things that I had used in dealing with life. I realize there are still people who are waiting for me to fall, but there are many more who are there to love me and support me in spite of my past failures.

My desire is to use my past mistakes to help others who may be in similar situations. I want to continue to grow in my faith and use it in obedience, wherever God may lead. I'm glad I'm where I am in my faith and life, even if it took a difficult lesson in the School of Hard Knocks to get there.

David E. Cobb


"Daddy, I saw the star of Bethlehem!" That's how I woke up on the Thursday after Epiphany. My four-and-a-half-year-old son, Jackson, was standing next to my pillow announcing excitedly that he had seen the star of Bethlehem in the east. He was really jazzed. Katy and I quickly got out of bed and went straight to his bedroom window. The sun had not yet risen. We looked up, through the tree branches into the sky, and sure enough, there in the east was a bright light, larger than any star or planet I'd ever seen, not moving or flashing like an airplane, but enormous. "Let's go outside," I said. I grabbed the binoculars from the closet, and Jackson and I stepped out into the chilly pre-dawn air. It was still there. Katy followed. The three of us took turns looking through the binoculars, amazed at the size and brilliance of it. I wished I had a telescope.

We haven't told him yet that it was probably Jupiter. At least that's what the newspaper said we'd find in the pre-dawn eastern sky. For Jackson, just a few days after Epiphany and the visitation of the magi, he knew what it was. Standing there in his pajamas and slippers, he said, "Let's follow it so we can find Jesus."

I think I said something like, "That was a long time ago, and Bethlehem is very far away. Maybe this star is telling us to look for Jesus here where we live."

He looked up at me and said, "That's okay, Daddy. I'll find him."

Perhaps he already has.