Hindu Monk Abandons Religion and Converts to Christianity After an Encounter With Jesus | TESTIMONY

My name is Swami Arjuna, a name given to me after I became a monk. Though I was born Arjun Sharma. I'm 44 years old now.

But I want to take you back to 2021, the year everything changed. A time when I was still a devoted Hindu monk, living a life I believed would lead me to moxa, the liberation from the cycle of rebirth. That life feels so far away now, but it's where my journey to Jesus began.

I lived in a small ashram in Bloomington, a quiet city in Indiana with green hills, wide streets, and the sound of church bells ringing on Sundays. I had come to the US from India 10 years earlier at the age of 30 to serve the Indian community here. I was a sanasi, a monk who had renounced the world, my family, my possessions, my desires to seek the divine.

My ashram was a modest house painted white with a small garden where we grew tulsy plants sacred to Vishnu. Inside we had a prayer room with statues of Vishnu and Krishna, their faces serene, decorated with garlands of maragolds. The air was always heavy with the scent of sandalwood incense and the sound of mantras filled the space as my disciples and I chanted together.

I led a group of 10 disciples, mostly Indian immigrants who missed the traditions of home and a few American converts curious about Hinduism. We'd wake up at 4:00 a. m.

every day, the sky still dark, and gather in the prayer room for puja, our worship ritual. I'd light a ghee lamp, its flame flickering softly, and offer flowers and water to Vishnu statue while chanting the Vishnu Sahasanama, a hymn of his 1,000 names. My voice would blend with my disciples, the words like a river flowing through the room.

Narayana, Govinda, Madhava. After puja, I'd teach them meditation and yoga, guiding them to focus on their breath, to seek the divine within. On special days like ekadashi, we'd fast, eating only fruits or nothing at all to purify our bodies and minds.

I had taken my vows as a sasi when I was 25 back in India in a small village near Vonasi. I left my family, my parents, my younger sister and gave up everything to follow the path of Vishnu. I shaved my head, wore saffron robes and promised to live a life of discipline, meditation and devotion.

My guru, a wise old man named Swami Ramanandanda told me, "Arjun, you are now Arjuna. Bliss of Arjun, seek moa, liberation from samsara, the cycle of birth and death. Vishnu will guide you.

I believed him with all my heart. I spent years meditating by the Ganges river, its waters holy to us and studying the Bavad Gita where Krishna, an avatar of Vishnu, teaches about duty and devotion. I felt I was on the right path that I was close to the divine.

But when I came to Indiana, things started to feel different. Bloomington was so far from the Ganges, from the temples of India, from the life I knew. Here I saw churches everywhere, their crosses shining in the sun, and heard Christmas carols in the winter, songs about a baby named Jesus.

I'd see families walking to church on Sundays, their faces bright with joy, and I'd wonder what they found there. But I dismissed it. To me, Jesus was just another deity like Vishnu or Shiva, one of many paths to the divine.

I believed in the Hindu teaching that all paths lead to Brahman, the ultimate reality. I'd tell my disciples, "Focus on Vishnu. He is our way to moka.

" They'd nod, their hands folded in prayer, but I could see some of them were curious about the Christian culture around us. One of my disciples, Ravi, was a 22-year-old who had grown up in Indiana. His parents were Indian, but he was born here, and he knew more about American life than I did.

He'd sometimes talk about his Christian friends, how they prayed to Jesus, and felt a peace he didn't understand. One day we were sitting in the garden after a yoga session the air cool with the scent of Tulsi and Ravi said Swami G my friend Jane invited me to her church for Easter. She said Jesus died and came back to life.

Is that true? I smiled adjusting my saffron robe and said Ravi every religion has its stories. We focus on Vishnu on Krishna.

They are our truth. But his question stayed with me like a small seed in my mind and I started to wonder about this Jesus. Despite my devotion, I felt an emptiness growing inside me.

I'd meditate for hours, sitting cross-legged on a mat in the prayer room, my eyes closed, chanting Om Namo Narayanaya, a mantra to Vishnu. I'd try to feel his presence, to see his divine form. Blue skin, four arms, holding a conch and a discus.

But I felt nothing, just silence. I'd fast for days, my stomach empty, my body weak, hoping to purify myself, to get closer to mosha. But the peace I sought never came.

I'd lie on my mat at night, the ashram quiet, except for the sound of crickets outside, and I'd whisper, "Vishnu, why don't I feel you? Am I not pure enough? Am I not doing enough?

I'd see my disciples looking to me for guidance, calling me Swami G, a title of respect, and I'd feel like a fraud. How could I lead them to mosha if I couldn't find it myself? I started to feel like an outsider in Indiana.

I'd walk through Bloomington, my saffron robes bright against the gray streets, and people would stare. Some smiled, others whispered, "What's he doing here? " I'd go to the grocery store to buy rice and lentils for the ashram, and I'd hear Christian music playing, songs about Jesus's love.

I'd see crosses on necklaces, on car stickers, on church signs. It was so different from India where temples and statues of Vishnu were everywhere. I felt alone even with my disciples around me.

I think about my family back in India, wondering if they were proud of me, if I was honoring their sacrifices by becoming a monk. But the emptiness in my heart grew, and I didn't know how to fill it. I didn't know then that something was about to happen, something that would change everything I believed.

It was a warm day in the summer of 2021, and I was leading a 7-day meditation retreat at the ashram. My disciples and I had been fasting, eating only a little fruit each day to purify our bodies and minds. We wanted to deepen our connection to Vishnu to seek his divine vision.

The retreat was intense. Hours of meditation, chanting and silence with no distractions. By the seventh day, I felt weak, my body trembling from hunger and exhaustion.

But I was determined to push through. I wanted to see Vishnu, to feel his presence, to know I was on the right path to mosha. We gathered in the prayer room that morning, the air thick with the scent of incense, the statues of Vishnu and Krishna glowing in the light of the ghee lamps.

My disciples sat in a circle around me, their eyes closed, their hands resting on their knees, palms up. I sat in the center, cross-legged on a mat, my saffron robe loose around me, my beads in my hand. I led them in a chant.

Om namo naranaya. My voice steady at first, then growing softer as I felt my strength fading. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breath, trying to empty my mind to reach the divine.

I pictured Vishnu in my heart. His blue skin, his gentle smile, his forearms holding the conchk, the discus, the mace, and the lotus. I whispered, "Vishnu, show yourself to me.

Let me feel your peace. " But as the hours passed, my body started to give out. My head felt heavy, my mouth dry, my heart racing.

I tried to keep chanting, but my voice faltered and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I opened my eyes, my vision blurry, and saw my disciples still meditating, their faces calm. I didn't want to alarm them, so I stayed quiet, but the pain grew worse like a fire burning inside me.

I tried to stand to get some water, but my legs wouldn't move. I fell forward, my hands hitting the floor and I heard Ravi shout, "Swami G. " My disciples rushed to me, their voices full of panic, but I couldn't respond.

My heart stopped and everything went dark. I heard Robbie's voice far away saying, "Call 911. He's not breathing.

" Another disciple, an older woman named Priya, started chanting, "Vishnu, save him. " I thought this is it. I'm dying.

Vishnu, have I failed you? When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in the prayer room anymore. I was standing on the banks of a polluted Ganges river.

The water dark and murky, swirling with filth. The air was heavy with the stench of decay, like rotting leaves and dead fish. and I felt a chill run through me.

Even though the ground beneath my feet was hot, like burning sand. All around me, I saw countless figures. Their faces twisted in agony, crying out in pain.

They were suffering souls trapped in the cycle of samsara, the endless wheel of birth and death. I saw some reborn as animals, a dog with broken legs, a bird with torn wings, others as humans in poverty, their bodies thin, their eyes empty. Each life was more miserable than the last, weighed down by the invisible chains of their karma, the actions of their past lives.

I felt my own karma pulling me down, a heavy weight on my chest, like a stone pressing me into the ground. I saw myself in the cycle, reborn over and over, suffering in each life, never reaching moia. In one life, I was a starving child, my stomach swollen, crying for food that never came.

In another, I was a lonely old man sitting in a dark hut, my body aching, my heart full of regret. In every life I was searching for liberation, chanting mantras, meditating, offering prayers to Vishnu. But I never found it.

I saw myself as a monk in this life. Sitting in the ashram, my face tired, my eyes empty, still trapped in the same cycle. I realized my spiritual practices, my meditation, my fasting, my devotion to Vishnu hadn't freed me.

They had only kept me in this endless cycle of pain. A wheel that never stopped turning. I fell to my knees, the hot ground burning my skin, tears streaming down my face.

I cried out, "Vishnu, why am I here? I've given my life to you. I've renounced everything.

My family, my desires, my world. Why am I still suffering? " But there was no answer.

Just the sound of the suffering souls around me, their cries echoing in my ears. I saw my disciples at my funeral, their faces pale, chanting mantras over my body in the ashram. Ravi was there, his hands folded in prayer, whispering, "Swami G, may you find mosha.

" Priya was crying, her voice breaking as she chanted, "Om namo narayanaya. " But I knew they were trapped too. Destined to suffer in the same cycle.

Reborn again and again. Never finding the peace they sought. I felt a deep despair.

A darkness I'd never known. Believing all my efforts had been for nothing. That I'd never escape samsara.

That I'd never find the divine. I thought about my life. All the years I'd spent seeking Vishnu.

I remembered my childhood in India running through the fields near my village. My mother calling me to the temple to pray. I remembered my guru Swami Ramanandanda his eyes kind but stern telling me to renounce the world to seek mosha.

I remembered the Ganges river its waters holy where I'd meditated for hours hoping to feel Vishnu's presence. But now standing on this polluted version of the Ganges, I felt only fear and emptiness. I saw my disciples faces, their trust in me, their hope that I'd lead them to liberation.

And I felt like I'd failed them. I whispered, "I'm sorry, Vishnu. I'm sorry, my disciples.

I don't know the way. " I thought I'd be trapped in this cycle forever, suffering with no end. My soul lost in the darkness of samsara.

But then something changed. A bright light appeared in the distance, cutting through the darkness like a star in the night sky. It grew closer, pushing the murky water away, and the cries of the suffering souls grew quieter, fading into a soft hum.

The air cleared, and I felt a warmth, not burning like the ground, but gentle like a mother's touch. I looked up, my heart racing, and felt a spark of hope. Something I hadn't felt in this terrible place.

I didn't know what was coming, but I knew it was something different, something that might save me from this nightmare. I was still on the banks of that polluted Ganges River, my heart heavy with despair, the cries of the suffering souls echoing around me. I thought I'd be trapped in the cycle of samsara forever, reborn in endless lives of pain, never reaching moia.

But then that bright light in the distance grew closer, cutting through the darkness, and the murky water of the Ganges started to change. It turned clear and pure, sparkling like a river of glass, reflecting the light in a thousand colors. The air cleared, the stench of decay replaced by a sweet scent like jasmine flowers, and the cries of the suffering souls faded into silence.

I felt a warmth, gentle and loving, wrapping around me, making me feel safe for the first time in that terrible place. The light came closer and I saw a man walking across the Ganges, his feet touching the water but not sinking, the river glowing beneath him. He was glowing like the sun, his presence radiant and peaceful, and I felt a warmth in my heart I'd never known.

His clothes were white, shining like the purest light, and his face was full of love and power. I thought he looked like Krishna, an avatar of Vishnu with his divine glow. But then I saw his hands.

There were scars, marks where nails had been, and a wound in his side like he'd been pierced. I knew then who he was, even though I'd never believed in him before. It was Jesus.

I fell to my knees, trembling, feeling so small in his presence. I thought this can't be right. Jesus is just another deity, not the ultimate truth.

I'm supposed to see Vishnu. But Jesus spoke, his voice gentle but strong, like the sound of a river flowing over rocks. He said, "I am the eternal one you've been seeking, Arjun.

I am the way, the truth, and the life. There is no cycle of rebirth, no endless suffering. I am the one true God and I hold the keys to life and death.

His words hit me like a wave, washing away my fear. And I couldn't look away from him. I felt like he saw everything, my emptiness, my struggles, my devotion, and he still loved me.

Jesus stepped closer, the water rippling beneath him, and took my hand. The dark place disappeared, and we were in a beautiful realm. a heavenly place I'd never imagined.

The ground was like gold, shining under a sky of endless light. And I saw a tree of life, its leaves shimmering like emeralds, its fruit glowing with a soft light. A river flowed from a throne clear as crystal, and I heard voices singing, "Holy, holy, holy," their song filling the air with joy.

I saw countless people, their faces bright with peace, worshiping before the throne, their hands raised in praise. Jesus said, "This is the true afterlife. " Arjun, there is only one life followed by eternal life with me or separation from me.

I am the final judge, not the gods you've known. The cycle you saw is not real. It's a lie that keeps you from me.

Your vision of suffering was a reflection of your fears, but I am the truth that sets you free. I started to cry, tears streaming down my face, feeling a love I'd never known. It was different from anything I'd felt in my meditations, my prayers to Vishnu.

This love was alive, like a fire in my with joy. Jesus walked with me through this heavenly realm, showing me the beauty of heaven, the peace that surpassed anything I'd ever sought. Through Moxa, he showed me a garden with flowers that never faded, and a city of light, its gates made of pearl, its streets of gold.

How could this be true? Heaven for everyone who believed. Jesus as the one true God.

Then Jesus showed me something that broke my heart and gave me hope at the same time. He said, "Look at your life, Arjun. I saw myself all the years I'd spent seeking Vishnu trying to reach Moa.

I saw myself as a young boy in India running to the temple with my mother, my hands folded in prayer. I saw myself taking my vows as a syasi shaving my head wearing saffron robes promising to renounce the world. I saw myself meditating by the Ganges my body thin from fasting my heart empty despite my efforts.

I saw myself in the ashram in Indiana leading my disciples, chanting mantras, teaching yoga, but always feeling that emptiness, that fear that I'd never be free. Jesus said, "You sought liberation through your efforts, but true liberation comes through me. I am the one true God, not one of many.

" The cycle you saw is not real. It's a lie that keeps you from me. I saw how he died on the cross.

His body broken, his blood pouring out, how he rose again, defeating death, making a way for me to be with God. I felt so ashamed but also so loved knowing he did that for me. Jesus addressed the Hindu belief I'd held so dear.

The idea that all paths lead to the divine. He said, "I am the only way to the father. Your devotion to Vishnu was a search for me.

But now you've found me. I died for you, Arjun, to give you eternal life. His words filled me with a peace I'd never known.

A peace that surpassed my pursuit of moka. A peace that came from knowing I was loved. Not because of my efforts, but because of his grace.

Then Jesus showed me two futures, and they changed everything. In the first one, I kept following the Hindu teachings, seeking moshia through meditation and devotion to Vishnu. I saw myself getting older, my body weak, my heart still empty.

I saw myself die and I was back in that dark place. The polluted Ganges, the suffering souls, trapped in a cycle that wasn't even real. I saw my disciples at my funeral chanting mantras, their faces sad, knowing they'd never find moxa either.

I saw Ravi, his eyes full of tears, saying, "Swami G, we thought you'd lead us to liberation. " It broke my heart to see them like that, to know I'd led them astray. To know I'd never found the truth.

But then Jesus showed me a different future. I saw myself following him. My face full of peace.

No more emptiness. No more fear. I saw myself in the ashram but different.

Smiling, my heart light, reading the Bible in secret, feeling Jesus's presence in my meditation. I saw myself at a church in Bloomington, worshiping with other believers, singing songs to Jesus as God. I saw myself with my disciples sharing Jesus's love, their eyes lighting up as they found the same peace I had.

I saw a future where I was free, truly free. Not through my efforts, but through Jesus's grace. Jesus said, "This is the life I want for you, Arjun.

I love your disciples. I love this world. I want you to go back and share my truth.

" I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face, my hands trembling. I said, "But how, Jesus? My disciples, my community, they'll think I've lost my way.

I've given my life to Vishnu, to this path. How can I change now? " Jesus put his hand on my shoulder, and I felt a strength I'd never felt before, like a light in my heart giving me courage.

He said, "It won't be easy, Arjun. They'll see you as confused and you'll face rejection, but I'll be with you. I am the true God, and I'll give you the peace you've been seeking.

" Then he said something I'll never forget. Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. " His words filled me with hope, like a weight had been lifted off my chest.

I felt free, like I could breathe for the first time in years. I looked at him, my heart full, and said, "I'll follow you, Jesus. I believe you're the one true God.

I want this peace. I want this life. " He smiled, and the light around us grew even brighter, wrapping me in warmth.

I saw the heavenly city one last time, the throne shining, the river sparkling, the tree of life glowing, and I knew I'd never forget this place. Jesus said, "Go back, Arjun. Be my light in the darkness.

" I nodded, ready to do whatever he asked, even if it meant losing everything I'd known. I had seen the lie of Samsara. I had seen the truth of heaven and I had found the one true God.

Jesus was the way and I was ready to follow him no matter what it cost me. I woke up in a hospital room in Bloomington, the sound of machines beeping softly around me. My body felt weak, my head heavy, but I was alive.

I opened my eyes, squinting at the bright lights and saw Ravi sitting by my bed, his face pale, his hands folded in prayer. He saw me wake up and gasped, "Swami G, you're awake. Thank Vishnu.

" He started crying, happy tears, and leaned down to touch my feet, a sign of respect. I tried to sit up, but my body achd, and I lay back down. "What happened, Ravi?

" I asked my voice. He wiped his eyes and said, "You collapsed during meditation, Swami G. We were on the seventh day of the retreat and you fell forward not breathing.

We called 911 and they brought you here. The doctors said your heart stopped for a few minutes. They thought you might not wake up.

It's a miracle, Swami G. A miracle. " I looked at him my heart racing and said, "Jesus saved me, Ravi.

He's the one true God. " Ravi froze, his eyes wide, his hands still on my feet. "What do you mean, Swami G?

" he asked, his voice shaking. "You were chanting to Vishnu. We all heard you.

" I took a deep breath, my throat dry, and started to tell him everything. I told him how I saw the polluted Ganges, the suffering souls trapped in samsara. How I saw myself reborn in endless lives of pain never reaching mosha.

I told him how I realized my practices hadn't freed me. How I thought I'd failed Vishnu, failed my disciples. I told him how Jesus came to me walking across the Ganges, purifying the water, showing his scars, telling me he was the one true God.

I told him how Jesus took me to heaven, showed me the true afterlife, and said there was no cycle of rebirth, only one life followed by eternal life with him or separation from him. I told him how Jesus said he was the final judge, that the cycle I saw was a lie, that he was the only way to the father. I said, "Jesus told me he's the truth, Ravi.

He's the way to eternal life, not Vishnu, not mosha. " Ravi listened, his face a mix of shock and curiosity. He kept looking at the door like he was afraid someone would hear us.

When I finished, he whispered, "Swami G, this is a Christian idea. We've always followed Vishnu, the teachings of the Gita, the path to moka. Are you saying it's all wrong?

" I nodded, my heart heavy, but I felt a piece in my chest, a peace I'd never felt before. I knew Jesus was with me, just like he promised. I said I know Ravi but I saw the truth.

Jesus is the one true God. He died for us Ravi to give us eternal life. We don't have to keep suffering in samsara.

It's not even real. We can be free through him. Ravi looked down his hands trembling and said I need to think about this Swami G.

I I don't know what to say. I nodded, understanding his confusion, and said, "Take your time, Ravi. " But I know what I saw.

I know what I felt. When I got out of the hospital a few days later, I went back to the ashram. The air felt different now, the prayer room quieter, the statues of Vishnu and Krishna staring at me like they knew I'd changed.

My disciples gathered around me their faces full of worry asking Swami G are you okay? We were so scared. I smiled my heart full of peace and said I'm okay my friends but I have something to tell you.

I sat with them in the prayer room the ghee lamps flickering the scent of incense still in the air and I told them everything. my NDE, the vision of Samsara, the lie of the cycle, and how Jesus revealed himself as the one true God. I told them about heaven, about eternal life, about Jesus's love and grace.

Their reactions were mixed just as Jesus had warned me. Priya, an older woman, stood up, her face red with anger. Swami G, this is wrong, she shouted.

You're our guru. You taught us to follow Vishnu, to seek mosha. Now you're saying it's all a lie.

You've been confused by the Christians here. This is their influence, not the truth. Another disciple, Anneil nodded, his voice shaking.

Swami G, we trusted you. How can you turn away from Vishnu, from our traditions? I tried to explain, my voice calm but firm.

I haven't turned away from the truth. I've found it. Jesus is the one true God.

He showed me the way to eternal life. I'm not asking you to follow me blindly. I'm asking you to seek the truth for yourselves.

But Priya and Anneil walked out, their faces hard, saying they needed time to think, that they couldn't accept this. Ravi stayed his eyes curious and said, "Swami G, I don't understand everything you're saying, but I've seen Christians here in Indiana, my friends like Jane, they have a peace I've never felt. Maybe there's something to this.

Can you tell me more about Jesus? " I smiled, my heart full of hope, and said, "Yes, Ravi. I'll tell you everything.

" That evening, I took him to the garden. the air cool, the Tulsi plants swaying in the breeze and I shared more about Jesus, his life, his teachings, his death and resurrection. Robbie listened, his face thoughtful and said, "I want to know more, Swami G.

I want to feel this peace you're talking about. " But the tension in the ashram grew. Priya and Anneil started talking to the other disciples, spreading rumors that I'd lost my way, that I'd been brainwashed by the Christians.

Some disciples stopped coming to the prayer room, saying they couldn't follow a guru who'd abandoned Vishnu. I felt a deep sadness, like I'd let them down. But I also felt Jesus's presence giving me strength.

I started reading the Bible in secret, hiding it under my saffron robes, afraid the others would see. I'd sit in my small room at night, the ashram quiet, and read about Jesus, his miracles, his love, his promise of eternal life. I read John 14:6.

I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the father except through me. And I felt a thrill in my heart knowing it was true.

I'd whisper prayers to Jesus, asking him to help me, to guide my disciples, to show them the truth. One day, I decided to visit a local church, something I'd never imagined doing as a Hindu monk. I'd heard about a small church near the ashram where Ravi's friend Jane worshiped.

I went on a Sunday morning, my saffron robes hidden under a long coat, my heart pounding with fear. I didn't want my disciples to see me, to judge me. But I needed to know more about Jesus.

The church was a simple building with wooden pews and a cross on the wall, so different from the statues and incense of the ashram. The people welcomed me, their faces kind, and I sat in the back trying to be invisible. The pastor John spoke about grace, about how Jesus's love was a gift, not something we had to earn.

He said, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. " His words hit me like a wave, and I felt tears in my eyes, knowing this was the peace I'd been seeking all my life. The congregation sang songs, their voices full of joy.

Songs like Amazing Grace, and I felt Jesus's presence so strongly, like he was right there with me. I didn't sing. I didn't know the words but I listened my heart open feeling a love I'd never felt in my meditations to Vishnu.

After the service Jane came up to me her smile warm and said I'm so glad you came Swami G. Ravi told me about your experience. I'd love to talk more if you want.

I nodded my voice soft and said thank you Jane. I'd like that. I left the church feeling lighter, like a burden had been lifted, but also scared, knowing my disciples might find out, might reject me even more.

I knew I had to be careful, but I also knew I couldn't turn back. Jesus was the truth, and I had to follow him, even if it meant walking this path alone. After my visit to the church, I felt a change in my heart, a peace that stayed with me even as the tension in the ashram grew.

I knew I couldn't go back to the way things were. But I also knew I needed to be careful to take my time as I figured out what following Jesus meant for my life as a monk. At first, I tried to blend my new faith with my old practices.

Every morning, I'd wake up at 4:00 a. m. , go to the prayer room, light the ghee lamp, and sit on my mat.

But instead of chanting Omnamo Narayana, I'd chant omu, combining the sacred Hindu sound with Jesus's name. It felt like a bridge between my past and my new belief. A way to ease into this change while still honoring where I'd come from.

I'd close my eyes, focusing on my breath, and picture Jesus in my heart, his glowing face, his scars, his love. I'd feel his presence, a warmth in my chest. And I'd pray, "Jesus, guide me.

Help my disciples find you. Show me how to share your love. " I'd read the Bible after my meditation, hiding it under my mat.

and I'd feel a joy I'd never felt in my years of seeking Vishnu. I read Matthew 11:28. Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.

And I'd smile knowing Jesus had kept that promise. I felt rested, truly rested for the first time in my life. I started sharing more with Ravi, who was still curious about Jesus.

One evening we sat in the garden, the air cool, the Tulsy plants swaying in the breeze. And I told him more about heaven, about Jesus's love, about how he died for us. I said, "Ravi, Jesus isn't just another deity.

He's the one true God. He showed me there's no cycle of rebirth, no samsara. There's only one life and then we can be with him forever if we believe.

Ravi listened his eyes wide and said, "Swami G, I've been thinking about what you said. I've seen my Christian friends, how they pray to Jesus, how they're not afraid of death. I want to know more.

Can you teach me how to pray to him? " I smiled, my heart full, and said, "Yes, Ravi, let's pray together. " We bowed our heads and I prayed, "Jesus, please touch Ravi's heart.

Show him your love, your peace. Thank you for saving me, for giving me this new life. " Amen.

Ravi smiled, his face soft and said, "I feel something, Swami G. I feel lighter. " But the tension in the ashram kept growing.

Priya and Anneil had left, taking a few other disciples with them, and they spread rumors in the Indian community in Bloomington, saying I'd lost my way, that I'd been brainwashed by Christians. I heard whispers when I went to the grocery store, people staring at me, saying, "That's the monk who turned to Jesus. He's not a real swami anymore.

" I felt a deep sadness, like I'd failed them, like I'd broken their trust. I'd lie on my mat at night, the ashram quiet, and I'd cry, asking Jesus, "Did I do the right thing? Should I have stayed silent?

" But I'd feel his presence, a gentle warmth, and I'd hear his voice in my heart saying, "I am with you, Arjun. You're doing what I asked. " I'd wipe my tears, knowing I had to keep going, even if it meant walking this path alone.

I started meeting with Pastor John from the church at a small coffee shop in Bloomington. The smell of roasted beans in the air. We'd talk about Jesus, my NDE, and how to share his love with my disciples.

John was kind, his eyes warm, and he'd say, "Arjun, your story is powerful. You've seen Jesus in a way most people haven't. He's called you to share that with others, even if it's hard.

He gave me books about Christianity, simple ones I could understand, and I'd read them in my room, hiding them from the remaining disciples. I read about the early Christians, how they faced rejection, but kept sharing Jesus's love. And I felt a strength in my heart, knowing I wasn't alone.

As I read more of the Bible, I started to realize I couldn't keep blending my old practices with my new faith. The Omu chant had helped me at first, a way to ease into this change, but I felt Jesus calling me to let go of that, to fully embrace him. One night, I read Acts 4:12.

Salvation is found in no one else for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved. And I knew I had to make a choice. I couldn't keep holding on to my Hindu practices even in small ways.

I started praying the Lord's prayer instead. The words Jesus taught his disciples. Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.

It felt new, but it also felt right, like I was finally letting go of my past and fully stepping into my new life with Jesus. I also started to question my role in the ashram. I was still leading the remaining disciples, still living in the prayer room with the statues of Vishnu and Krishna, still wearing my saffron robes.

But I knew I couldn't be a Hindu guru anymore. Not when I believed Jesus was the only way. I felt a growing conviction that I needed to step away to fully commit to my new faith.

I talked to Ravi about it one morning in the garden. The sun just rising, the air fresh. I said, "Ravi, I can't keep leading the ashram.

I'm not a swami anymore. I'm a follower of Jesus. I need to step down to let someone else take over.

" Ravi nodded his face thoughtful and said I understand Swami G. I I mean Arjun I'm still figuring out what I believe but I respect your choice. Maybe I can take over the ashram keep it going for those who still want to follow Vishnu.

I smiled grateful for his understanding and said thank you Robbie. I know you'll lead them well. I heard about a Hindu festival in Indianapolis, a big event for Holi, the festival of colors where I was expected to speak, to lead a puja, to share teachings about Vishnu.

My remaining disciples were excited saying, "Swami G, this is a chance to show everyone you're still our guru. " But I knew I couldn't do it, not the way they wanted. I decided to go, but I'd used the platform to share the truth.

I went to the festival. My saffron robes bright, my heart pounding. The park was full of people, families laughing, children throwing colored powder, the air filled with music and the smell of samosas.

I stood on a small stage, a microphone in front of me, and I saw my disciples in the crowd, their faces hopeful. I took a deep breath, my hands trembling and said, "My friends, I've always taught you to seek Vishnu, to seek mosha, but I've seen the truth and I need to share it with you. " I told them about my NDE, the lie of samsara, Jesus as the one true God.

I said, "Jesus is the way to eternal life. He died for us and he loves us. We don't have to keep suffering.

We can be free through him. Then I did something I hadn't planned. I took off my saffron robes revealing simple clothes underneath and said, "I'm not a swami anymore.

I'm a follower of Jesus. I'm stepping down as your guru, but I pray you'll seek the truth for yourselves. " The crowd was silent.

Then I heard whispers, some angry, some curious. A man shouted, "You're a traitor. " Others nodded, their faces hard.

But I saw a few people, including a young woman with a child, listening closely, their eyes wide. I stepped down, my heart heavy, but at peace, knowing I'd made the right choice. Ravi came up to me, his face soft, and said, "That was brave, Arjun.

" Some people listened. I saw them. I nodded, feeling a mix of fear and hope, knowing I'd planted a seed, even if it cost me the respect of the community.

I knew I had to keep sharing Jesus's love, even if it was hard, even if I faced rejection. I felt Jesus with me, guiding me. And I knew I was on the right path.

I'm here now in April 2025, sitting in my small apartment in Bloomington, Indiana, a simple cross on the wall, a Bible on my table, thinking about a moment that happened a few months ago, a moment that gave me so much hope. Some months ago, in February 2025 precisely, I sat with Ravi in a small room at the church I'd started attending regularly, the air warm, the sound of hymns still echoing from the Sunday service. I had moved out of the ashram a few months earlier after stepping down as its leader, and Ravi had taken over, keeping it going for those who still wanted to follow Vishnu.

I had rented this apartment, a simple place with a small kitchen, a bed, and a table where I kept my Bible. It felt like a new beginning, a place where I could fully live out my faith in Jesus. Before I left the ashram, I had made a big decision.

I removed the statues of Vishnu and Krishna from the prayer room. It was a hard moment, one I'd been wrestling with for months. I stood in the prayer room that day, the air still heavy with the scent of incense, the ghee lamps flickering, and I looked at the statues, their faces serene, their garlands of maragold still fresh.

I remembered all the years I'd spent praying to them, seeking mosha, believing they were the way to the divine. But I knew now that Jesus was the one true God, the only way to eternal life. I couldn't keep them there.

Not when I'd given my life to him. I took the statues down, my hands trembling, and packed them away, giving them to Ravi to keep in the ashram. I placed a small cross on the wall instead, a symbol of my new faith.

And I prayed, "Jesus, this room is yours now. Use me to share your love. " I had also been baptized at the church a few weeks before that February day, a moment that felt like the final step in my conversion.

I've since gone back to using my birth name, Arjun Sharma. I no longer go by Swami Arjunaenda. The church was full that Sunday.

The congregation singing Amazing Grace, their voices lifting my heart. Pastor John stood with me in a small pool at the front, the water cool, and he said, "Arjun, do you believe Jesus is the son of God, the one true God who died for your sins and rose again? " I nodded, tears in my eyes, and said, "Yes, I believe.

" He smiled and lowered me into the water, saying, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. When I came up, the congregation clapped, their faces full of joy, and I felt a peace I'd never known, like I was truly born again, fully committed to Jesus. That day in February, I wanted to share my journey with Ravi in a new way, to give him something that had changed my life.

I held a small Bible in my hands, the one Pastor John had given me, its cover worn from all the times I'd read it. I looked at Ravi, his face calm, his eyes curious, and I said, "Ravi, you've been open to Jesus, to the truth I've shared. I want to give you this Bible.

It's the story of Jesus, his words, his love. I want you to read it, to seek him for yourself. " Ravi took the Bible, his hands trembling, and opened it, his eyes scanning the pages.

He said, "Arjun, thank you. I've been praying to Jesus like you taught me, and I feel something, a peace, a hope. I want to know more.

" I smiled, my heart full, and said, "Read it, Ravi. Start with the book of John. It tells you who Jesus is, how much he loves you.

Pray to him as you read and he'll show you the way. We sat together for a while reading the Bible, our voices soft as we shared verses. I read John 3:16.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. And Robbie's eyes lit up, his face glowing with a peace I'd never seen in him before. He said, "Arjun, I believe this.

I believe Jesus is the one true God. I want to follow him. " I felt tears in my eyes, my heart leaping with joy, knowing I'd planted a seed, knowing Ravi had found the same truth I had.

I prayed with him, our hands clasped, and said, "Jesus, thank you for touching Ravi's heart. Guide him. Show him your love.

Thank you for using me to share your truth. Please help the other disciples, the community to find you too. Amen.

Ravi hugged me, his voice soft and said, "Thank you, Arjun. I feel free for the first time. " As we finished, I felt a renewed sense of purpose knowing I was doing what Jesus had called me to do.

I looked at the cross on the wall. It's simple wood, a reminder of Jesus's love. And I whispered a prayer.

Jesus, thank you for showing me the truth. Use me to share your love, even if it's hard. Just then, I heard a knock at the door of my apartment.

I opened it, my heart racing, and saw Priya, the disciple who'd left the ashram after my NDE. Her face was soft, her eyes red like she'd been crying. She said, "Arjun, I heard about what you did at the holy festival, how you stepped down, how you've been going to church.

I was angry at first, but I've been thinking about it. I've been reading about Jesus, and I I want to know more. Can we talk?

" I felt a wave of hope, tears in my eyes as I realized Jesus was working in her heart, answering my prayers. I invited her in, my hands shaking with joy, and said, "Yes, Priya, let's talk. I'll tell you everything.

" I looked at Ravi, his face bright, and I knew this was just the beginning. I felt Jesus with me, guiding me, and I knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy. But I trusted him to lead me, to bring my former disciples to him, to use me to share his love with the world.

I whispered, "Thank you, Jesus. " and sat down with Priya, ready to share the truth that had set me free.