Have you ever been struck with gratitude so hard that it stopped you in your tracks? I’m talking about the kind of moment where you’re so overwhelmed, so full of emotion, that all you can do is raise your hand and say, “Thank You.”

That moment hit me after three and a half relentless years fighting my way out of nearly $1.5 million in debt—a number I personally guaranteed from a bad business decision. Every dollar, paid back. Every creditor, cleared. But it wasn’t just about the money. Those years came with some of the darkest moments of my life. I had to face myself. I had to rebuild mentally, emotionally, and spiritually from the ground up.

One morning, I was sitting alone at a restaurant: just me, an espresso, and silence. Out of nowhere, it all hit me. The gratitude. The reflection. The flood of everything I’d been through.

I thought about my family—the ones who stood by me when I had nothing left in the tank. My closest friends, who kept pushing me forward when quitting looked easy. My wife, who stayed with me, believed in me and never backed down. And my three beautiful, healthy kids—7, 6, and 3 at the time—who gave me reason to keep swinging every single day.

My business was thriving again. We had our home. Life had turned a corner. And in that moment, it all came rushing in like a tidal wave. My body felt like I had just finished a marathon. If I hadn’t been sitting, I might’ve hit the floor.

The place was packed, but I didn’t care. I lifted my hand, and in a quiet, choked-up voice, I said, “Thank You.”

Then came the guilt. Why was I this blessed? Why me? And so I asked God the question that burned in my gut: What do You want from me? What can I do for You?

Because deep down, I knew—I didn’t pull this off alone. Every client, every open door, every second wind—He sent it. I’ve always given God the credit. And people around me knew it. My comeback wasn’t just about business; it became a testimony—a reason for others to ask questions and find their faith.

As I sat there, I asked Him again, What do You want from me?

And I heard it—clear, direct, like a command spoken inside my chest: “You’ve been given a gift. You’ve built brands for everyone else. Now it’s time to build Mine.”

At first, I thought I was hearing my own thoughts. But then, almost like He was smirking, I felt it again: “I’m not joking. It’s time to brand Me.”

An hour later, I was pitching to a client. They asked how I knew a certain individual, and I said, “He’s one of my closest friends now. I knew him before the fame, TV, and he blew up on Twitter (now X). We taught him the difference between an ‘@’ and a ‘#’.”

I laughed to myself, looked at my screen, and there it was—that little hashtag symbol— in Helvetica bold, simple and perfect. And suddenly, I saw it for what it was.

The Cross.

It was always there.

And from that day forward, I knew I would never see that symbol the same way again.