I finished writing a book this week. It took more than two years. It wasn’t a biography or a memoir. I didn’t write about my achievements. It was about how I became me, about what happened in my life that transformed me and shaped me into who I am today.
Childhood Through Adolescence
I spent most of my early life very angry. Not at other people, but at myself. You see, I had a great father. He was a humble man who achieved great things. He quit high school at fourteen and became an itinerant farmhand, moving from job to job. When World War II broke out at 17, he lied about his age to join the Navy. He served in the Philippines on a minesweeper, clearing mines for beachhead invasions. He received two Bronze Stars for valor. His high school burned down during the war, which allowed him to attend college without a high school transcript. In college, he earned a degree in civil engineering.
He went on to become the Superintendent of Highways, the Chairman of our City Council, and the Chairman of the School Board. My dad was funny and never acted as if he were somebody. He was an incredible role model; he really was a good man. Dad was married to my mother for 72 years.
Somewhere along the line, I grew angry with myself. I never did enough, accomplished enough, or knew enough; I was consumed by anxiety about performance. That is the way I lived until my mid-forties. I wasn’t just driven; I was obsessed with my performance and accomplishments, never living up to my expectations. I was successful in business, but I never felt any relief. Despite all my earthly goods, I was not happy. By thirty, I was divorced and had a pacemaker. If someone tried to help me by giving advice, I felt humiliated because I didn’t already know what they were trying to teach me.
All of this was internalized. Outside, I was happy and well-adjusted. I didn’t want others to see my flaws. People saw me as intense and as someone who loved their work. I wish I could say that one day I broke and God fixed me, but that wasn’t what happened.
My Forties
One day in my forties, I picked up a Bible. Not because I felt God cared or even knew I existed, but because I was seeking answers. It helped. I read it cover to cover every year for about four years. I never once sought eternal salvation, only salvation from the life I lived. It calmed my anger and gave me perspective. It didn’t quench the drive within me.
Then, somehow, I came across a book by Lee Strobel titled “A Case for Christ.” Lee meticulously documented that every story in the New Testament is historically accurate. Christ lived, died, and rose again. He performed all the miracles described. I needed to go to Church. Who was this guy? This wasn’t a book of fables or stories; it was real life.
“If Jesus Christ was who He claimed to be, and He did die on a cross at a point of time in history, then, for all history past and all history future, it is relevant because that is the very focal point for forgiveness and redemption.” – Josh McDowell
Isaiah 44:22, “I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you.”
I went from church to church in search of answers. I was not, and still am not, a fan of religion. Arbitrary rules were piled onto the gospel in an attempt to segment the marketplace (Personal Bias). I ended up at a gospel-teaching church that simply preached what the Bible says. No membership rules, no membership classes, just the gospel.
For several years, I attended this church and learned about salvation. But I was still self-driven. I was perhaps calmer, friendlier, and much less angry, yet I remained focused on myself. I now wanted to be the best Tomme Stevenson God could make.
True Conversion
Then one day, a friend gave me a cassette tape of a one-man play called “The Bema.” The question was: What have you done for Christ since you met Him? My answer: Nothing. This is where my book begins. This is where true transformation began. It was when I stopped looking only at myself and started looking outward.
The book documents how an extremely logical, pragmatic person met Christ. How Christ used my life to mold me into the person I was always meant to be. How the person I am today is a light-year away from who I was. It is the tragedy of wasting almost five decades chasing meaningless things instead of living the life I was meant to live.
1 Corinthians 1:30, “It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption.”
It was a lot of dumpster fires and train wrecks; I’m a hard guy to get through to at times. But every one of them had purpose and meaning. Every one of them changed me for the better. I started looking at God’s plan and moving away from mine: I started judging results not by what I wanted to achieve, but by what God had planned.
I am now more relaxed, still a type “A” personality, but living by God’s standard, not mine. These last twenty-five years have been the best. The book is my best description of how that transformation took place. It is simple lessons from an ordinary life learning to live for Christ.
Galatians 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
P.S. if you want an electronic copy drop me an email. It was created for my family, but otherwise not completely unreadable.
Another year, another Birthday has arrived.
Few people know the name Hanson Gregory. 
The good son—do you even know who I am talking about? Luke 15:11-32 is a parable Jesus taught about a lost, wayward son who finds redemption through a good father. The story is often taught in Sunday school and is the subject of many sermons and commentaries. The focus of most of these teachings is on how the prodigal son squandered his inheritance, was redeemed by a loving father, and was restored to his family. It exemplifies the act of Christ redeeming us back into His family after we have turned our backs on Him.
And why is Christ Hard to Believe In?
Is your God created out of hunger? There is a quiet danger in faith that doesn’t present itself as rebellion. It feels reasonable. Even reverent. It begins when we try to understand God using only the raw materials of our own experience.
To my warrior princess, you know who you are. You have changed my life for the better and challenged me to be greater.
Non-believers are not my enemies; they are victims of my enemy. That statement shed new light on how I engage with those who haven’t had the privilege of meeting my Savior. Non-believers are victims of ignorance and misinformation. We can’t reasonably expect non-Christians to act like anything other than non-believers.
If today were your last day on earth, how would you live it? Reflect on life’s meaning, priorities, and what truly matters most. Most of us don’t get that kind of warning. But if we did, would we choose differently? I don’t mean to sound morbid—but it’s a powerful question worth asking.
You Are a Child of the King: Embracing Your Royal Identity. That is a fantastic statement of self-worth. It is a statement most of us can’t internalize. We can’t see ourselves as royalty; we see the failures, shortcomings and defects, not the purple robe of royalty. We know, intellectually, that we are descendants of royalty. But that knowledge doesn’t filter down to our consciousness.