From infancy through childhood, supernatural encounters marked the beginning of a lifelong journey. These events reveal that God marks us with identity long before we understand it, and exists outside of time to witness every moment of our lives.
The encounters in this section span from infancy to age twelve. They represent the earliest markers of God's supernatural activity in my life—moments when Heaven broke through to announce identity, provide protection, and establish destiny.
These were not vague spiritual impressions. They were tangible, witnessed, and undeniable. Some were experienced directly; others were testified to by family members who saw what I could not yet comprehend.
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart."
What follows are four distinct supernatural events that laid the foundation for everything that would come after—proving that God's calling begins long before we have words for it.
This was not merely a dream. One night, as an adult, I experienced what I can only describe as a divine transportation. My spirit was carried back through time to witness myself as an infant—no older than 18 months.
In the scene, I was seated with my earthly father, who was trying to teach me a simple phrase:
"Say this: I'm a star."
I could only manage "tar," but my father laughed and encouraged me. To anyone else, it was a sweet, ordinary father-son moment.
But in this transportation experience, I was not watching a memory. I was present—witnessing the exchange as it happened. Heaven showed me that this was not merely a playful exercise. It was a prophetic decree over my life, delivered through the mouth of my earthly father but authored by my Heavenly Father.
As an infant, I had no comprehension. But as an adult, transported back into that scene, I was overwhelmed with awe. This was not nostalgia. It was revelation: from the very beginning, God had named me and marked me.
The biblical symbolism of stars runs deep:
Even my childlike mispronunciation—"tar" instead of "star"—became symbolic. It spoke of beginning to learn Heaven's language, fumbling toward what God had already declared.
God exists outside of time.
In that moment of transportation, I understood that He is not simply the God who knows past, present, and future—He is the God who witnesses every moment of time simultaneously. He created time, and therefore it is subject to Him just as all creation is.
This means:
When we begin to grasp this truth, it becomes far easier to believe in prophecy, divine foretelling, or dreams that unveil the past. God is not guessing at the future—He is revealing what He already sees. He is not speculating on the past—He is unfolding what He still witnesses.
This Strange Event teaches us:
Understanding this expands our faith: if God exists outside of time, then every prophetic dream, every vision of the future, and every divine warning is not speculation—it is truth revealed from His eternal vantage point.
Pause & Reflect: Can you recall a childhood moment—a nickname, phrase, or early story—that might have carried prophetic weight, even if you didn't see it then?
Journal Prompt: Write down a memory where God may have been speaking destiny into you long before you were aware.
Prayer: Father, thank You that You are Lord of time. Thank You for marking me even before I could comprehend it. Teach me to trust Your eternal perspective, and to live as one already named and already known.
I was about six or seven years old, heading out to recess from my classroom. As I pushed the heavy metal crash bar on the school door and stepped onto the stairwell, something unexplainable happened.
I suddenly experienced what I perceived as an explosion behind me. The sound was deafening, terrifying, and for a split second, I was certain something catastrophic had happened. In that instant, I was propelled upward through the air, carried 10–15 feet to the top of the staircase. Instead of falling or breaking bones, I landed perfectly balanced on my feet, unharmed.
At the top of the stairs stood a janitor, dressed in uniform. Calmly and almost casually, he told me:
"Oh, a water boiler blew up. Everything is okay. We'll take care of it."
His words reassured me, but as I tried to process what had happened, I quickly realized something unusual: no one else seemed to notice anything.
In the aftermath, I expected alarms, commotion, or evacuations. But the school day went on as though nothing had occurred.
I asked my peers if they had heard the explosion. They hadn't. I asked teachers. None of them knew what I was talking about. Later, I even told my mother, but there was no news of a boiler accident, no evidence that anything had actually exploded.
To this day, I am unsure whether a literal explosion took place in the natural realm. What I do know is that I experienced something supernatural: a divine transportation.
The janitor may not have been a janitor at all. In hindsight, I believe he could have been an angel sent by Heaven to calm me in the moment of a strange event—reassuring me as I stood shaken at the top of those stairs (Hebrews 13:2).
Whether there was a physical explosion or not is almost beside the point. What matters is this: I was carried by a force greater than myself, lifted out of harm's reach, and set down unharmed.
This mirrors biblical patterns of divine intervention:
The experience also became an early training marker. Even as a child, God was showing me that His supernatural realm intersects with ordinary life. A school stairwell became a sanctuary.
This Strange Event teaches us:
Pause & Reflect: Have you ever experienced something so vivid that others didn't notice? Could it have been God pulling back the veil of the natural?
Journal Prompt: Write about a time when God preserved you in a way you couldn't fully explain.
Prayer: Father, thank You for being my protector. Thank You for sending angels to guard and comfort me, even when others could not see what was happening. Help me to trust that You are present in every moment of fear.
It was the early 1970s, in Madison County, Illinois. A popular hippie-style nightclub called The Granary had just opened. Black lights glowed against beads and posters of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin. Rock music pounded through the speakers. From a child's perspective, it felt like stepping into another world—overwhelming, colorful, and surreal.
My family, along with another family, went there one evening after a casual cookout. At some point, with my father's permission, I left the group to find the restroom. But when I tried to return, I became lost in the haze of lights, music, and multiple levels.
I was small. I was disoriented. And I was alone.
Then it happened. Through the noise and confusion, a voice called my name:
"Kraig!"
I turned and saw a man and woman standing together, waiting for me. The man began to speak—but not casually. He began telling me everything about myself:
Detail after detail poured out. Each one correct. Each one undeniable.
At first, I thought this must be a prank arranged by my father, who loved practical jokes. Determined to expose it, I began pressing the man with questions, hoping to stump him. But his answers flowed effortlessly, without hesitation.
Finally, desperate to test the limits of this knowledge, I asked:
"Since you know everything—tell me how I'm going to die."
At that moment, the woman reached out, grabbed his arm, and said firmly:
"We cannot disclose this to him."
And with that, the two of them slipped away into the crowd and disappeared.
When I rejoined my family, I interrogated my father and others. No one admitted involvement. They had no idea what I was talking about. To this day, I remain convinced: this was no prank. It was a visitation.
As a boy, I was astonished and bewildered. How could strangers know such intimate details about my life? The encounter imprinted itself on me so deeply that I never forgot it, though for years I lacked language to explain it.
Looking back, I believe this was an angelic visitation—a moment when Heaven broke into the natural realm to leave an undeniable marker on my life.
I was fully known.
Nothing about me—my preferences, my identity, my destiny—was hidden from Heaven's gaze. And this event revealed more than knowledge. It revealed care. God was not only aware of me; He was watching, guiding, and speaking into my story long before I had words for it.
This Strange Event teaches us that:
Pause & Reflect: Have you ever felt seen or known in a way that could not be explained? Was it a person, a word, a dream, or even a stranger?
Journal Prompt: Record a time when God revealed hidden details of your life. How did it confirm that you were fully known by Him?
Prayer: Lord, thank You that I am fully seen and fully known by You. Teach me to live with confidence in Your watchful care, and to embrace Your revelations as invitations to deeper trust.
At age 12, I entered confirmation classes at our small Baptist church in my hometown. For many of my peers, the process was a rite of passage—something to check off before moving on to teenage years. But for me, it carried weight. I knew I was a sinner. I wanted salvation. I believed the Scriptures.
The process culminated in a one-on-one meeting with our pastor, Reverend Gordon. We sat together in his office, the atmosphere heavy with sacred gravity. He led me through what is often called the Sinner's Prayer.
As I bowed my head and opened my heart to Christ, mid-prayer, the ground beneath us shook.
Rev. Gordon and I both looked up in shock. His eyes widened. He said, "Do you know what just happened?"
"No," I replied, confused.
"That was an earthquake."
In our part of the Midwest, earthquakes were almost unheard of. Yet there it was—undeniable, perfectly timed with my surrender to Christ.
Alarmed, we rushed outside. Thankfully, there was no damage to the church or surrounding area. But the moment was seared into my soul: when I crossed from death to life, Heaven itself shook the earth in witness.
Looking back, this was far more than coincidence. It was a cosmic confirmation that my salvation mattered in both heaven and earth.
Scripture testifies that earthquakes often accompany God's interventions:
Each quake marked a transition of covenant, power, or deliverance. Mine marked a 12-year-old boy moving from sinner to son, from lost to found.
Salvation is not a small private ritual. It is cosmic in scope.
Heaven celebrates. Hell shudders. Earth itself groans and testifies to the glory of God's redemptive work.
This Strange Event teaches us:
Pause & Reflect: Can you recall how God confirmed your own salvation—through a moment, a word, or a sign that was uniquely yours?
Journal Prompt: Write about your conversion or recommitment to Christ. What external or internal confirmation made it real?
Prayer: Lord, thank You that salvation is not small. Thank You that my life in You is marked by heaven and earth. Shake anything in me that resists You, and establish me firmly on the Rock of Christ.
I recount this event with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12).
I am acutely aware that some will scoff, others will rationalize.
Yet again, I say with Paul:
"If we are out of our mind, it is for the sake of God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you."
This is not embellishment. This is testimony.
Heaven shook the Earth to mark a boy who said yes to Jesus. And Heaven is still shaking lives today.