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YOU
ARE
THE
REASON
A SURVIVOR’S GUIDE
T O U LT I M AT E S T R E N G T H
You are the Reason
Copyright ©2009 by Jonathan Craig
Unless otherwise indicated, Bible quotations are taken from the HOLY
BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978,
1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights
reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-9841902-2-5
Printed in the United States of America
Borderline Publishing
305 N. Steelhead Way
Boise, Idaho 83704
www.borderlinepublishing.com
— Jonathan Craig
3
When we come together as one through connecting
our purpose, we then harmonize within the world
and become enlightened
- Jonathan Craig
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
CHAPTER ONE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
Chosen
CHAPTER TWO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
Sur viving Trials
CHAPTER THREE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
A Force that Kills
CHAPTER FOUR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
E m b r a c i n g Te r m i n a l I l l n e s s
CHAPTER FIVE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
Inspiration
CHAPTER SIX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
Creating Something out of Nothing
CHAPTER SEVEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
M o n e y & P o s s e s s i o n s : N e e d i t o r Wa n t i t ?
CHAPTER EIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Faith: Demonstrations of God at Work
CHAPTER NINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
Seven Secrets to Healthy Living
CHAPTER TEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
Yo u , M e a n d t h e P o w e r o f t h e M o m e n t
JOURNAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
5
Introduction
Y ou are the reason. You are the reason I wrote this book because
you must understand the power you have to change the world
around you—through understanding who you are and the
unique gifts you’ve been given. But before I can delve into my philoso-
phy, I want to take you to the beginning of my search. Back to a day I
will never forget…
I was 17 years old and I woke up feeling like I had been hit by a Mack
Truck. I could barely lift my head from the pillow. When I attempted to
move to my side I realized that the skin on my stomach felt like it was
on fire. I then rolled back onto my back and pulled my shirt up to see
what appeared to be a rash. The rash was comprised of small blister-like
bumps with puss in them. I had never experienced pain like this before.
I called my mom up into my room and showed her what was going
on. “Hmm. ... It looks like shingles,” she said as she examined my stom-
ach. I had no idea what shingles were; I just new that I wanted to get
rid of them.
“Mom, I feel awful.”
She felt my forehead. “You definitely have a fever,” she said. “I am
going to call our family doctor and make an appointment for you to see
him.”
Once she had secured an appointment, I dragged myself out of bed
and into the shower. As the warm water hit my body, I remember feel-
ing that I was going to fall over. I had never been so exhausted in all of
my life. Forgetting that I had the menacing rash on my stomach, I ran a
bar of soap over it and the burning intensified, as though I had just had
a cigarette pressed against my bare skin. I quickly attempted to rinse it
off and the warm water only intensified my discomfort. “Ouch!” I
yelped. The pain was almost unbearable.
After getting dressed, I walked down to the garage and climbed into
my truck and drove to the doctor’s office. The thoughts racing through
my head were fairly mundane and routine, mere musings about seeing a
doc who would diagnose my ailments, prescribe some pills and send me
home to rest. I was the epitome of a teenager who wanted a quick fix so
7
I N T R O D U C T I O N
8
Y O U A R E T H E R E A S O N
A few days later I began to feel better, but stayed home to fully recov-
er. The phone rang and my mom answered.
“Hi, doctor,” I heard my mom say from the kitchen as I sat watching
TV in the family room. I didn’t hear anything else. She was silent for a
good three to five minutes. Finally, she walked into the family room with
a look I had never seen on her face. She was as white as a ghost. My
stomach shot into my throat as I looked at her.
“What did he say?” I asked nervously.
“He’s on the phone still and wants to talk to you.”
“What is it?”
“He’ll explain it to you.”
I stumbled into the kitchen, hoping that it wasn’t anything major.
“Hi, doc,” I said as I put the phone to my ear.
“Hi Craig, I wanted to update you on your test results.”
He was silent for a few seconds.
My heart skipped a few beats.
“Craig. Umm ... I just informed your mother that you tested positive
for HIV. I’m sorry to tell you that.”
Silence again.
I looked up at my mom and saw tears in her eyes. The room spun
around me as if I were riding a runaway merry-go-round. For a moment,
I felt that I had left my body and didn’t quite know how to find it again.
Pure adrenaline whipped through my limbs and left me breathless.
“Craig? …. Craig?” I finally realized the doc was talking.
“Yeah?”
“You OK?”
“I’m fine,” I responded. What was I to say? I couldn’t find a response
that made sense.
That moment has been the most monumental in my life. I liken it to
being pulled from a car by a stranger and held at gunpoint. Breathless
and filled with fear, I was forced to explore the possibility that I may not
live to see another day.
9
One
CHOSEN
11
Y
ou are chosen. That simple message marks the beginning of a spe-
cific journey, one in which only you can take. Far too many peo-
ple wander through life without purpose or meaning. Perhaps
it’s because they simply never believed they were chosen for anything.
But I know differently, mostly because I chose to believe the better
half of the two sides of the adoption coin: I wasn’t wanted or I was cho-
sen. It was something my adoptive parents drilled into me during my
formative years. And I still to this day haven’t stopped believing it.
I was just one-day old when my adoptive parents took me home. My
birth mother gave birth to two children and was raising them in Chicago
before she moved to California. Not long after her move, a long walk to
the doctor’s office (she had no car) based on her suspicion that she had
the flu resulted in a much different diagnosis: she was pregnant with me.
Dating two men at the time, she didn’t bother trying to figure out who
the real father was, so she asked each of them for $100 to have the baby.
Eager to arrive, I came into the world early as a preemie weighing in
at a shade over five pounds. My adoptive parents were unable to have
children and were immediately approached about adopting me. They
came down to the hospital to see me—and a day later, I went home with
them.
A CHANGE IN COURSE
God always has a plan and we don’t know what that plan is—until it’s
time. Looking back on the incredible change in direction that one
moment had on my entire life is truly amazing. My birth mother’s life
has never been very stable. She has battled many ailments—heart disease
and throat cancer to name a couple—and a heavy addiction to smoking.
It’s difficult for me to even imagine how different of a person I would
be had that been the direction my life would’ve taken compared to the
one it did take.
Instead of growing up without a father and not even knowing who my
dad was, the story of my life was drastically different. Though there was
no DNA passed down to me from my adoptive father, I still managed to
13
C H O S E N
14
Y O U A R E T H E R E A S O N
life in a way that molds and shapes us forever. Gregg Levoy, author of
Callings, writes, “A key is made for one purpose and one purpose only.
To fit a lock. Not just any lock. One lock. Your lock!” Only you can
unlock the joy that comes in your journey through this life by accepting
what life brings your way and facing it head on.
While some parents hide from their kids the fact that they were adopt-
ed, mine were forthcoming with my adoption. I was reminded often that
I was adopted, but only for the purposes of letting me know that I was
chosen, special, unique and a gift. Despite my father’s abusive tenden-
cies, he let me know in no uncertain terms that he and my mother chose
me and that I was special to him. As a result, the fact that I was adopt-
ed never bothered me like it does others. I was confident in whom I was
and secure in what my parents thought about me.
However, that didn’t prevent me from wondering about my birth
mother and the rest of my biological family. What would life had been
like if I had stayed with them? I wondered. I also wanted to understand
a little bit more about why I think the way I do, why I do what I do,
and why I collect things. I wanted to know, “What is it about the inter-
nal Jonathan Craig that I did not learn from my adoptive parents?”
These questions began to haunt me and I decided I must make an effort
to answer them.
About this same time, I began writing down a number of things I
wanted to do in life, my life’s master plan. I added meeting my birth
mother to the list. Within a year of writing it down, I met her through
a bizarre set of circumstances.
Not long after I wrote this down, I interviewed to be the host of a TV
show and was one of the two finalists. I didn’t get the job, but my hint
of success encouraged me to continue looking for something else which
could put me in front of a camera. In my search, I stumbled across a
show that was geared toward adoption, reuniting daughters and fathers.
I thought, What about mothers and sons? and I decided to contact the
show.
15
C H O S E N
I emailed the show my story and received a call from a producer who
told me that they decided to interview me even though the show wasn’t
geared toward my story. They put a camera in front of me and asked me
to share. For 45 minutes, I cried and yelled and screamed. It so moved
them that they called me back a week and a half later and said, “We’re
not going to air your story, but we still want to help you find your birth
mother.” I was totally amazed at the generosity of these complete
strangers.
Ten days later, I received a call from a private investigator in Florida
who told me, “We’ve found your birth mother and she’s in Arizona.”
Some representatives from the show phoned her and said, “Someone is
trying to reach you.” Immediately, she responded, “It’s my son, isn’t
it?” Then she said she wanted to speak with me. So we set up a time to
go out to Arizona to meet her. Her name is Gail.
When you ask God for something specifically, it will always be in
God’s timing, when he is ready to give it to you. It’s all about when he
knows you’re ready to handle it.
For me, this reality hit home when I found myself on this trip to meet
my birth mother. I had goosebumps as I arrived, realizing that when I
was 35 I helped design a restaurant across the street from where she
worked as a waitress and my birth father had worked as an executive
chef. Had I met her when I was in my mid-30s, I wouldn’t have been
able to handle this encounter. I was young, worldly, fearful—unable to
acknowledge with compassion and understanding the reality of where I
came from. But, here I was a few years later, more mature and ready and
willing to meet her.
I remember pulling up to Gail’s trailer home in Arizona and not
knowing what to think. I was actually stunned at the humble home in
which she lived, but I thought I could handle just about anything. It was
humbling to realize that I could have ended up with a similar life. I won-
dered which direction my life would have taken. I probably wouldn’t
have known any difference, yet the opportunities that would have been
handed to would have been quite different and living more difficult in
many ways.
Inside her trailer, Gail had it packed full of stuff beyond comprehen-
16
Y O U A R E T H E R E A S O N
17
C H O S E N
living. And maybe you wish things were different. Don’t shame your
past; instead, allow it to be the chiseling mechanism to shape your
future. Og Mandino wrote, “To change ones life for the better, to res-
urrect ones body and mind from living death, requires many positive
steps - one in front of the other, with your sights always on your goal.”
The reality of my journey is that I was picked out of a litter. I was cho-
sen. Like we all are. Though we may not be literally chosen by adoptive
parents, we are all chosen for something in life. We’re chosen to make a
difference and impact the world around us by using the unique gifts God
has given us.
QUESTIONS TO PONDER
1. What is unique and special about your life and life story?
2. What is one thing you feel chosen to do? What purpose have you
found in life?
3. Who can you fall back on when tough times hit you in life?
18
Two
S U RV I V I N G T R I A L S
19
M
ixed messages are never easy to swallow, much less digest. A
person either delivers dual messages because he or she opts
for convenience in situations over consistency—or there is
an internal struggle regarding what the person wants to be versus what
the person is. Mark my father down for both.
My father came from nothing, a child of Norwegian immigrants. He
realized at an early age that if he was ever going to get anywhere in this
world, he would have to work hard to get there. However, his mischie-
vous side often caused him much undeserved pain. Like most young
boys, he was always up to something—and his father wasn’t too fond of
these antics. His father once tied him to a tree for chasing chickens. My
dad threw balls at windows. He would be punished by being locked in
a closet or whipped severely. Worst of all, his father was also a minister.
Out of this confusing world, emerged my father. He was confounded
by the idea of God’s love because of the way “love” was administered to
him, yet he still served in the church. Deep down, he knew what was
right and really wanted to do the right thing, but it was difficult to over-
come a culture of mixed messages. He didn’t know what to do. So, he
did what most fathers do: He fathered like his father.
In order for abuse to stop, you have to acknowledge it, forgive it, let
it go. My father did none of these very well, making me a prime target
for abuse. My disposition didn’t help either. Like most sons or daugh-
ters do, I challenged my father. My challenge was always, “Why?” A
“here you go, get lost” answer didn’t suffice for me. I needed a logical
explanation for why I needed to do something my father asked me to do
or why it was this way so I could reason it in my own mind. If it made
sense, then it’d be OK. But if I didn’t think so, I would question
“Why?” before promptly being rebuked and told I would never amount
to anything. He would dismiss me by telling me that I was just ignorant.
My best friend came over once and unfortunately witnessed the fury
of my father firsthand. This particular incident started when my father
gave me a remote-controlled airplane for my birthday and my friend and
I were flying it around. Though I’m a risk-taker, I’m not a foolish one.
If I don’t know anything about a particular topic, I’m not going to bluff
21
S U R V I V I N G T R I A L S
22
Y O U A R E T H E R E A S O N
Dealing with abuse isn’t easy. But if you’re brave enough to share
your story, you’ll likely find more people than you imagined who share
23
S U R V I V I N G T R I A L S
QUESTIONS TO PONDER
2. How have you dealt with abuse in your life? Alone? With friends?
25
Three
A F O R C E T H AT K I L L S
27
T
here are times in our lives where we find ourselves in situations
in which we don’t know quite how we have arrived - or who
we’ve become. We make decisions based on fear, past hurts,
and unconsciously sign our lives over to a force bent on our destruction.
Some refer to this force as the devil, some as karma and others as just as
plain bad luck. Whatever it is, we must realize that our conscious deci-
sions can forever change our lives.
In my teens (16 to be exact), I was impressionable, to say the least.
My lack of connection with my father led me down a path that I could
have never imagined as a child. It all started with a visit to a beach house
of one of my best friend’s uncles in Ventura. We had packed our bags
and driven from Redlands, looking forward to getting away and spend-
ing time on the beach.
Upon our arrival, her uncle greeted us and showed us into his one
bedroom apartment. He outlined the sleeping plan for us—one that saw
my friend stay out on the couch, and me stay with her uncle in his room.
This sounded fine to me as two guys could bunk up easily and give my
friend a bit of privacy. I agreed this would work, and he seemed like a
nice enough guy.
Once we unpacked, the sunny day was spent on the beach, enjoying
the company of my teenage friend. The air was refreshing and the sand
felt wonderful between my toes. I remember thinking to myself that I
would love to live in such a place—to hear the ocean crashing on the
shore and the sea gulls calling to each other in the skies above. The day
ended with a spectacular sunset. And then night rolled in—never did I
expect what would happen next.
I crawled into bed next to her uncle who already appeared to be
asleep. We hadn’t spent much time with him in the day, so I hadn’t got-
ten the chance to get to know him. I just knew that he was her cool
uncle who lived in a great apartment overlooking the ocean. I trusted
that he was a good man. My eyes became heavy, and I drifted off to
sleep. At some point in the night, I was suddenly awakened and startled.
A large male hand covered my mouth while another held my left shoul-
der to the bed. Adrenaline surged through my body and I wanted to
29
A F O R C E T H A T K I L L S
30
Y O U A R E T H E R E A S O N
SELF PERCEPTION
It may seem strange to many that I didn’t kick the guy’s ass, or scream
at that top of my lungs in order to wake my friend, but my self percep-
tion at this point in life was weak. Additionally, I wasn’t a super strong
kid—I was only a shade over 5’8 and somewhat skinny, while her uncle
was taller and stronger. Plus, there was something in him that was
enough to terrify me to death.
Another part of my weakness surrounded my interactions with older
men. I so craved acceptance from my father that there was something in
me that strangely wanted to please my friend’s lunatic uncle. It’s so
strange to see myself writing this because from where I stand right now,
at this time in my life, I would tell him to get lost and have him thrown
into jail.
But what I’m about to write is stranger than fiction: I did what he
commanded me to do. I came back again to visit. In fact, I visited him
several times. At first it was because I feared for my life, and then as time
went on, I shockingly feared the loss of him, my abuser.
Why would I fall into such a trap? Why do many of us seem to fall
into incomprehensible traps? I believe we fall into such traps when our
self perception is low, when we don’t know who we are, and when we
are trying like mad to bury our wounds.
We’ve all got our battles. Some of us have endless fights with alcohol
and/or drug abuse, overeating, or co-dependency. And my experience
in working with hundreds of people is that most of these battles begin
with a root cause. For me, it has always been the need to be accepted by
my father. Even to this day! He died when I was 20 years old, yet I still
find myself wanting to hear him shout from the heavens, “You are OK,
Jonathan! I love you!”
I’ve often wondered: if my father were to stand in front of me and
tell me that he loved me and that he was proud of me, would that be
enough? Would I then heal and become complete? My answer to that
question today is that it may help a bit, but in the end, I must learn to
love myself. I must find acceptance within and offer myself the peace
that I’ve always been looking for from others.
31
A F O R C E T H A T K I L L S
It took about a year to get away from the situation—and then came
my diagnosis at 17. Jonathan Craig: HIV positive.
When all was said and done, I did finally tell my friend that her uncle
had raped me. She confronted him and told him to fall off of the face of
the planet. Never again did she speak to him. A number of years later, I
learned that he had died of AIDS related causes.
QUESTIONS TO PONDER
1. Do you have any wounds that you are trying to cover up?
32
Four
EMBRACING TERMINAL ILLNESS
33
A
s soon as the doctor finished delivering the news that I had
contracted the HIV virus, my jaw nearly hit the floor, partially
in disbelief, partially in sheer terror. “You may have about a
year to live …” the doctor said over the phone as I quickly went numb.
It’s not exactly the best bedside manner, but 27 years ago, HIV was as
puzzling to doctors and researchers as it was to those suffering from its
ill effects.
They were certain it was a death sentence. And my doctor told me the
news as if it were indeed the beginning of an ominous end: “You may
have about a year to live.” And when you’re a young adult and they tell
you that you have this illness you know nothing about, your mind wan-
ders to dangerous places.
Right away fear and denial began to set in for me—and I fought my
reality hard. I would walk down the street and look at other teenagers
and beat myself up because I was sure that I was the only one with the
disease. And then I’d look at older men and tell myself that I’d never live
to reach their age. A part of me wanted to crawl into a deep dark corner
and just give up, but a voice inside told me to keep going.
I started doing a little research at the time and wasn’t sure what to
think or what to do, especially with all the conflicting advice that I was
receiving from doctors, family and friends.
I decided the only thing I could do was get to know my body bet-
ter—so I began my treatment by going to my family physician and hav-
ing my blood drawn every month to monitor things. At the time, the
medical community was still trying to figure out what was going on. My
T-cells—the all-important cells that help the body fight off disease—
were fine. And I showed no symptoms of AIDS at all.
At one point my doctor approached me with the idea of taking AZT.
He mentioned that HIV patients were taking the drug, yet they weren’t
sure how the drug was working. He explained that the drug may help
stave off the disease and keep it from progressing to AIDS. I told my
mother about the drug and asked her advice; however, intuitively she felt
that I should wait. She said “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it…let’s wait a bit
before you take medication.” Her fear was that since HIV was newly dis-
35
E M B R A C I N G T E R M I N A L I L L N E S S
covered the medication may not have been the most effective treatment.
And years later she was proven right as so many have died as result of the
drug.
Her measured approach to life taught me early on that if you believe
that you are up against doomsday and you fear, you may lose. She also
used to teach me that if you tell yourself that you’re sick, then you just
may become sick.
And years later I read that it is a proven fact: in his book “Callings”
author Gregg Levoy talks about how your thoughts create the sickness
that you desire. Instead of using sickness as a crutch, you need to
embrace it and relate to it so you can understand and move past it. The
power of will and the power of prayer—it all goes in unison with under-
standing what you’re up against. It also goes in relation to your relation-
ship with God. No matter what challenges you’re going through in life,
you need to ask so you can receive.
It was enough that I was experiencing severe mental trauma over this
discovery that I had a terminal illness and my doctor had given me a year
to live. But then things took a turn for the worse when it came to my
emotional state. Though privacy laws were in place, it was much easier
for someone to view my medical records. And that’s exactly what hap-
pened when a former high school classmate of mine who worked at the
hospital decided to spread the word that I had full-blown AIDS to my
fellow students, which wasn’t true.
This young woman spread it around the community—and being
someone who came from a prominent family, it was juicy gossip. I was
devastated when I heard these lies were being spread. I wondered what
everyone would think. When I went to church, everyone looked differ-
ently at me, so much so that I stopped going .
Additionally, I changed my name at the hospital and met my doctors
at 6 a.m. or 9 or 10 p.m. to avoid being seen. I walked up the back stair-
case six flights of stairs because of the fear factor of people who thought
they would know what I was doing there. After about a year, I stopped
36
Y O U A R E T H E R E A S O N
going to the hospital because it was such a hassle and I didn’t see that
my health was worsening.
Because nothing appeared wrong with me physically and I was tired
of all that had gone on, I decided that I wasn’t going to worry any more
and that ignoring my illness was the best thing to do. And so I kept on
living and vowing to live each day as though it were my last.
AV O I D I N G D I S A S T E R
37
E M B R A C I N G T E R M I N A L I L L N E S S
the problem was. For my emotional sanity, I thought that was the best
thing to do.
Meanwhile, I learned my T-cells were broken. I started taking AZT,
coupled with a handful of other drugs which they referred to as a “cock-
tail.” The combination of drugs suppresses the HIV virus and keeps it
asleep. While HIV may be one of the weaker viruses, it’s also one of the
smartest. As long as it’s in your system, it’s hiding but dormant. While
lying dormant, it begins trying to figure you out like a live chessboard.
You’re trying to beat your opponent and your opponent is trying to
guess what you’re going to do. The more you compromise your
immune system, the more AIDS wins the war. Through a microscope, it
looks like a creature with eyes and claws. It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve
ever seen.
38
Y O U A R E T H E R E A S O N
Though I’ve been taking medication for 14 years, I’ve been living
with HIV for 27 years. Every night before I go to bed, I take a single
pill. But two years ago, for 12 of those 14 years, I was taking about 16
pills each and every day. Now thanks to amazing medical advancements,
I take single pill instead. When I made the switch to the single pill, I was
actually fearful that it wouldn’t work but thankfully it has beautifully and
my life has simplified a bit.
I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have a body that has reacted so
well to HIV medication. And strangely enough, I am grateful for the dis-
ease. Many people think I am so strange for saying such a thing, but by
being HIV positive, I have learned to respect my body and to make the
most of each and every moment.
If I could share one thing with the world it would be that no matter
how miserable a situation may seem there is always a lesson to be learned
and there are certainly people worse off than you or me.
Once I went into Starbucks and I noticed an employee vacuuming the
floor. He was obviously mentally retarded, yet he looked so happy. He
didn’t know—and he didn’t care; he was just doing his thing. He was
enjoying life. In that moment, I realized that my being HIV positive was
nothing compared to the struggles that he may face in life, yet he went
about his day with passion and perseverance.
When I hear men and women complaining every day about their basic
struggles in life, I can barely hold back from telling them that they are
luckier than they know. There is so much beauty in life…if we are just to
open our eyes!
Death and dying is an interesting topic. No one ever gets away from
earth alive. I think that’s what is so mystical about this whole thing. It’s
very unnerving. I’d love to be 100 years old and impacting the world,
but knowing that I may walk into complications with the disease on any
39
E M B R A C I N G T E R M I N A L I L L N E S S
QUESTIONS TO PONDER
40