“Today I experienced Acts 3:19. If I ever wander, I pray God will keep His promise never to leave me and find a way to remind me of this passage so that I will know to come home.”

Owen Kincaid hadn’t been to the small town where he grew up in over thirty years. As he drove through his old stomping grounds, memories flooded his mind—things he had not thought of in a long time. One of the first places he visited was the church he attended when he was young. He was only thirteen when he walked the aisle to accept Jesus. A lot had changed since then.

He walked through the old sanctuary, which had now been converted into classrooms and offices. Though the layout was different, he stood in the exact spot and recalled his thirteen-year-old self kneeling at the front of the church, accepting Christ as his Savior. It was now a storage closet.

They say there are no sacred places since all the earth belongs to the Lord, but this spot still felt special.

A flood of emotions ran through him as his spiritual life over the past decades flashed before him. That young boy kneeling at the altar could never have known what lay ahead—the joys, the failures, the quiet compromises. He wondered what that boy would have thought if he could see him now, standing in that exact spot forty-four years later, hoping to recover something he could no longer quite name.

Then he saw it.

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