Introduction
It’s the summer of ’99 in central Florida, and the humidity engulfs me as I exit the front door of my house.

Before I reach my red ’97 Mitsubishi Mirage, beads of sweat form around my temples. I insert my key into the ignition, and promptly crank the A/C to full blast. It looks like just another Florida summer day. But it’s not. What makes it different is my destination. I’m heading to the Family Christian Bookstore.

Since I had recently prayed “the sinner’s prayer” at the end of a church service, a friend urged me to visit the Christian Bookstore. That’s where I could find Christian clothes, Christian music, Christian books, and Christian art—Christian everything. As a new believer, I was unaware that such a place existed.

How I Ended Up at a Christian Store
While some people choose a lifestyle that’s nothing more than a protest against the type of person they were raised to be, my conversion to Christianity was no such choice. My parents were neither devout Christians nor anti-Christian. They were indifferent.

Consequently, God wasn’t even a blip on the radar screen of my life. I wasn’t trying to find God. I wasn’t a “seeker”; I wasn’t “Christ curious.” I was a fifteen-year-old rebel without a cause, heading nowhere fast.

After a lengthy march through a desert wasteland, however, my soul-dehydration left me thirsty for meaning. In God’s wise providence, a series of disappointments played their part in tilting my gaze heavenward—so much so that while at church on July 13th, 1999, God tackled me and inscribed the truth of the gospel on my heart, and I could no longer run. I waved the white flag of surrender. I said to God, “Take me. I’m yours.” That’s the only explanation for why I drove to the Christian bookstore that summer day.

The question on my mind as I drove there was: What should I buy?

A Memorable Adventure
As far as outings go, my arrival at, and amble through, the Christian bookstore was quite memorable. For starters, shortly after my right turn on Orange Blossom Trail (that’s a street in Kissimmee, Florida), I noticed the words “Nudist Colony” emblazoned in bright lights close to the bookstore. What in the world, I mumbled under my breath, I thought God clothed Adam and Eve after the fall?

Soon enough I realized my concerns were unfounded. The nudist colony and the Family Christian Bookstore were two separate and unrelated entities. (This was confirmed moments later when I observed fully clothed people entering the store.) With the potential crisis averted, I parked and proceeded to make my way to the front entrance.

A Narnia-Like Experience
Walking through the doors of Family Christian Bookstore was like Lucy entering Narnia. I was a stranger entering a new world.

Off to the left was a wall covered with books written by authors I had never heard of. Some guy named Max Lucado seemed to be popular, and his book Just Like Jesus was apparently a big deal. Other titles that caught my attention were The Case for Christ and The Power of a Praying Wife. Since I already believed in Christ and wasn’t a wife, I passed on those options.

Next, I noticed the clothing section. Yes! I thought, I’ll declare my newfound faith in Christ with a shirt. I imagined myself sporting a loosely fitting shirt (remember this was the 90s and I was a hip hopper who wore baggy pants and oversized shirts), with a thought-provoking quote writ large across the front. But there weren’t many options that appealed to me. I couldn’t see the “Lord’s Gym” shirt with a muscular Jesus doing push-ups with a large cross on his back suiting my style. Ditto for the shirt that had a pair of jeans on the front with holes in the knee portion, with “Pray Hard” written on the front. Christians should pray, yes, but this seemed a bit much, so I moved on.

Making my way back toward the front of the store near the registers, I spotted the “Testamints.” What are these, I wondered? Could I freshen my breath and become more like Jesus at the same time? Was it possible? It seemed too good to be true.

Right as I was started pondering whether God wanted me to own Christian merchandise, I saw a spinner with an assortment of key chains. This could be it, I thought. Maybe a key chain is just what I need.

Admittedly, a key chain wasn’t as bold as a “Lord’s Gym” or “Pray Hard” shirt, but neither was it as tacky as whipping out a box of “Testamints,” in front of my classmates. There had to be a happy medium. I was convinced that a key chain was it, so I made my way to the spinner.

I passed on the “Man of God” key chain because the words “Ephesians 6:10–11” were written underneath it, and (1) I wasn’t sure who the Ephesians were, and (2) I was sure I shouldn’t be called a man of God.

Turning the spinner a few more times, my hands eventually landed on a key chain that simply said “Jesus Christ,” with the letters J and C enlarged for emphasis. I thought to myself, This should work. I believe in Jesus Christ now, and if anyone asks me about this key chain, I can simply respond with, “I’m a Christian. I believe in Jesus.” I made my way to the register, paid for my key chain, and walked out the door. That was my first purchase as a Christian.

God’s Praiseworthy Wonders
As strange as it sounds, I felt different as I walked back to my car. I felt like I had done something significant. I felt like I belonged.

It’s been nearly twenty-five years since I made that purchase, and it remains the only key chain I’ve ever owned. I still use it. Whether I’m grabbing my keys out of the drawer or see them dangling from the ignition, I’m taken back to the summer of ’99—the year God won me to himself.

That first purchase points me to the One who performs praiseworthy wonders. He turns Jesus-haters into Jesus-lovers. He saves sinners. He saved me. Praise his name forever.