When I was 11 years old, I was diagnosed with a large brain tumor. It’s a story that’s both unusual and unforgettable—and one I feel called to share.
It all started on August 26, 1999. I was unloading the dishwasher when my oldest brother started picking on me. In a moment of frustration, I hit him with a wooden salad spoon. He had to be rushed to a pediatric doctor for stitches, and my mom was shocked when she met us there. But the real surprise came when we got home—I couldn’t remember anything that had happened that day. My mom asked me why I had done it, and I had no answer. I was confused, in denial, and completely unaware of the incident.
That alarming memory loss led to an emergency MRI. The very next day, I was diagnosed with a massive brain tumor located in the back right temporal lobe of my brain. My pediatrician immediately referred me to Emory Hospital in Atlanta.
On September 9, 1999, at 5:30 AM, I went in for brain surgery. It lasted 18 hours. While I was in the operating room, my family waited and prayed fervently. When I woke up, a non-believing doctor—an atheist—told my mom that I would never fully recover.
What followed was a long and difficult journey. I went through months of physical therapy, and for nine months, I could barely function or remember anything. My world revolved around one thing: food. Then on June 11, 2000, I underwent a second brain surgery—this time with a Christian doctor who told my mom, “I believe I can remove the tumor because my hands work for God.”
I was 12 years old when I entered the OR again, this time for an eight-hour surgery. When I woke up, the first words out of my mouth were asking for my mom—and for chicken. She walked into the room in tears. The same child who’d once been told he would never walk or talk again was not only awake and speaking, but healing.
Part of my right temporal lobe was removed, and I’ve been free from brain tumors ever since. I did battle epilepsy for 15 years—enduring mild seizures—but today, I am seizure-free and living proof of a miracle.
Even now, I continue to face challenges. I’m currently on oral chemotherapy for other tumors in my body, but I hold onto hope, knowing this too shall pass. I’ve been through over 30 surgeries. Through it all, God has been faithful, and today, I believe He’s called me to serve as a Special Needs Children’s Pastor.
Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord—plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” That verse has become an anchor for me.
Looking back, I was raised Lutheran—wearing a suit and tie, attending church regularly. I thought I was living the right kind of Christian life. But the truth is, I was caught in religion, not relationship. I was stuck in a cycle of stealing, lying, and cheating—believing, wrongly, that this was somehow normal for a Christian. The truth is, had I died during any of those early surgeries, I know I wouldn’t have gone to heaven.At one point, I tried attending a Baptist church, but something just didn’t feel right. Then in 2011, my family moved to South Carolina, and we found a church called NewSpring. I began volunteering full-time in the Special Needs ministry, Spring Zone. Eventually, I hit a turning point. I was tired of living the way I had been. On December 21, 2012, during the Fully Alive series at NewSpring—at exactly 6:30 PM—everything changed. Pastor Perry Noble came out wearing a half-black, half-white coat, with black pants and one black shoe and one white shoe. He asked a simple but powerful question: “Do you want to be on the road to destruction or the road to paradise?” At that moment, I knew—it was time to surrender. I gave my life to Christ.
