The Dream. The Question. The Ring.
In October 2003, I had the privilege of traveling to Ukraine to visit orphanages, senior programs, and vulnerable communities. During one church service, a beautiful young woman approached me and told me she had a dream about me. In that dream, Jesus instructed her to give me the ring she was wearing—and to tell me that I was to wear it as a reminder of who I belonged to.
I stood there stunned.
Amazed—because I wondered, Does Jesus really say such things?
And convicted—because deep down, I knew my heart was not right with God.
I claimed to be a Christian, yet my faith was more about appearance than relationship. I knew the language of belief, but I had not surrendered fully to the One I claimed to follow. That moment exposed the quiet distance between what I professed and what I truly lived.
The Prodigal Son and the Father’s Ring
Looking back, that moment reminds me of Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32).
The younger son rebelled, squandered his inheritance, and ended up destitute—spiritually and physically bankrupt. Yet when he finally returned home, broken and repentant, his father did not scold him or demand repayment. Instead, the father ran to meet him, embraced him, and restored him.
He clothed his son with a robe, placed sandals on his feet, and—most strikingly—put a ring on his hand.
That ring symbolized restored identity and authority. It was not merely jewelry; it was a declaration:
“You are not a servant. You are my son.”
In biblical culture, a ring carried deep meaning. It represented belonging, covenant, and trust. Pharaoh gave Joseph a signet ring as a symbol of delegated authority (Genesis 41:42). In the prodigal’s story, the father’s ring reinstated his son’s full status within the family—it meant he could once again act in his father’s name.
The father wasn’t simply forgiving him.
He was restoring him.
That is what grace does. It doesn’t send us to the servants’ quarters; it welcomes us home.
When that Ukrainian woman placed her ring into my hand, I did not yet grasp its meaning. But in time, I realized it had become a symbol of my own redemption—a quiet proclamation of covenant. It reminded me that I am not defined by my past, but by my belonging.
I am His.
A Proposal of Grace
In Scripture, Jesus is called the Bridegroom, and His people—the Church—are called His Bride. Seen through this lens, the ring represents not only restoration, but relationship.
Through His sacrifice, Christ has extended a proposal of covenant love—one that will never be broken.
My journey since that moment has been one of returning: returning to my first love, returning to intimacy with Christ, returning to the place of belonging I once forgot.
When I began writing this book, I felt completely unqualified. I told the Lord, “I can’t even write a paragraph, let alone a book.”
But He gently reminded me, “It’s not your ability I’m after—it’s your obedience.”
What you will read in these pages is not polished theology, but personal truth—anchored in Scripture, shaped by grace, and sealed by His love.
As I wrote, God uncovered hidden places in my heart—wounds, deceptions, misplaced desires—and replaced them with His truth. He began changing me from the inside out. What He has done for me, He can do for you. He alone is the Revealer and Healer of the human heart.
Proverbs 15:11 declares, “Hell and destruction are before the Lord; how much more the hearts of the children of men?” Nothing is hidden from Him. When we accept His invitation, He exchanges sorrow for joy, chaos for peace, fear for faith, and shame for sonship.
A World in Need of Truth and Love
I am aware that some may question my story or dismiss the simplicity of my words. But I make no apology for the truth.
We live in a world that calls rebellion freedom and mocks holiness as outdated. Each of us must decide: will we conform to the world’s opinions, or remain faithful to God’s Word?
My prayer is that as you read, you will sense the same love that captured my heart—a love that is not distant or conditional, but covenantal.
Like the prodigal, you do not have to earn your way back.
You are drawn—wooed by the Holy Spirit—into the loving arms of Christ.
And like a bride responding to her bridegroom’s proposal, salvation is our response to His love.
This is the story of that proposal.
And the invitation still stands.