I first met Danny several years ago in the local McDonald’s drive-thru. He was on the other side of the window– a loud, expressive kid with colorful hair. He knew who I was from videos he’d seen on Facebook and after he handed me the bag of greasy fries, he asked to take a photo together.

He was a bright spot in my day.

I met Danny again today at that same McDonald’s. He reached out to me a few days ago and asked if I’d sign a copy of my new book for his sweet mother. When he stepped out of his car, I greeted him with a big hug. (With permission, of course, because **cough cough** Corona.)

We stood in the chilly parking lot and he began sharing his testimony with me. That Danny I met in the drive-thru years before. That Danny, he said, was dead.

With respect for Danny’s privacy, I won’t go into great detail of his struggles at the time we first met years ago. The details don’t even matter. We live in a fallen world and are all vulnerable to the lies and deceptions the enemy throws at us. Without Christ, it’s incredibly easy to walk the road of temptation without remorse or repentance. It’s easy, even, to be proud of that road. To exclaim to the world, “This is who I am. And if you don’t like it, that’s your problem.” I walked that road for a long time– not the exact road Danny has walked– but my own road of sin and shame, all the while proclaiming I wasn’t ashamed of it one bit.

But on Senior Skip Day a couple of years ago, Danny was riding down a backroad and a small, still voice told him to read his Bible. He said his Bible was dusty. He’d grown up in church, like me, but church never appealed to him. I’d grown up in a similar church where the sermons were often guilt trips and God was portrayed as an angry entity in the sky ready to smite me with lightning because I was “bad”.

Danny obeyed that small voice, though. He started reading his Bible and several months in, he was convicted to call his sin by name. That’s what he did. He called every sin by its name, confessed it, turned his back on it and was filled with the hope, peace and joy that is only attributed to Jesus Christ.

That old Danny is dead. It was evident as I spoke to the new Danny today. It was evident that 2 Corinthians 5:17 is the true, infallible Word of God. (Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the old has gone and the new creation has come!) It was evident that this kid was a new kid– on fire for Christ, living for the Lord and not his own desires. He’d picked up his cross and followed his Savior and the light of Christ shined in his eyes, his smile.

I told Danny today that the Lord loved that kid at the drive-thru window. Nothing could shake Christ’s love for him. No sin was too great to separate the two of them. Jesus hates sin, that’s true. If sin wasn’t real and hell wasn’t hot, Jesus would not have had to die a bloody death on the cross. But He continued to hold onto Danny even when Danny wasn’t holding onto Him.

The same way He holds onto me. Onto you.

Our God is powerful. He changes lives and sets captives free. He gives us the strength to withstand temptations and backsliding. He promises us forgiveness without any condemnation. He’s a good, good father.

Before Danny got into his car to drive away today, he told me, “I’m going to keep running this race.”

Run with endurance, Danny. With perseverance. With joy. With hope.

And when this race is done, you’ll be greeted with, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”