From atheist to disciple

I was raised by two academics who taught me that religion was a crutch for people who could not think for themselves. By college I was the guy at the party who would corner a Christian and pick apart every belief they had. I was good at it. I was also miserable, but I did not connect those two things. A girl I was dating invited me to her church so she would "stop bugging me about it." I went planning to take notes and argue with her on the drive home. The pastor preached on Romans 8 — nothing tricky, nothing manipulative, just the plain text. Halfway through he said something like, "You have been trying to be your own god, and it is exhausting you." I have no idea why that one sentence broke me. I sat there with tears running down my face and I could not stop them. I did not walk down an aisle. I did not raise a hand. I drove home, sat in my car in the driveway for 40 minutes, and finally said out loud, "Okay. I do not understand any of this. But if You are real, I am done running." That was six years ago. I still ask hard questions — Christians should — but I ask them from the inside now. Jesus is real. He met me in a Honda Civic outside my apartment and He has not left since.