They say what goes up must come down. But nothing prepared me for how fast, or how far, I would fall.
The Peak
I was an early adopter of cryptocurrency, back when most people thought Bitcoin was just internet magic money that would disappear overnight. While they were skeptical, I was fascinated. I dove deep into the technology, the whitepapers, the communities. I wasn't just throwing darts at a board—I was studying, learning, and understanding what I was investing in.
Altcoins were my focus. I traded carefully, strategically. Some bets paid off small. Others paid off big. Really big. The portfolio grew from thousands to tens of thousands, then hundreds of thousands. And then, one day, I logged in and saw a number that didn't seem real:
$9,000,000
Nine million dollars. Life-changing money. Generational wealth. At that moment, I felt like I had figured it all out. I was going to cash out, secure my family's future, maybe start some businesses, give generously. The American dream was sitting right there in my account.
The Valley
I clicked the withdrawal button. That's all it should have taken. Move the money from the exchange to my bank account. Simple. Routine. Except the page wouldn't load.
I refreshed. Nothing. I cleared my cache. Nothing. I tried a different browser. My stomach started to sink.
Finally, the page loaded. But instead of my account dashboard, there was a banner across the top:
"Notice: This exchange has filed for bankruptcy. All assets are frozen pending investigation."
The room spun. I read it again. And again. I searched for news. The headlines confirmed my worst nightmare: the exchange owner had taken the money and fled overseas. Millions of dollars from thousands of users. Gone. Including my $9 million.
I sat there, staring at the screen. Everything I had worked for, studied for, risked for—vanished in an instant. Not because I made a bad trade. Not because the market crashed. But because someone I trusted with my money decided to steal it and run.
Rocket League and Reality
I did what any rational person would do in that situation. I opened Rocket League and played ranked 2v2 until my hands hurt.
There's something therapeutic about flipping cars around a digital soccer field when your real life feels like it's flipping upside down. For a few hours, my worries faded. The missed aerials, the perfectly timed demos, the communication with my teammate—it was a world where I had control. Where the rules made sense. Where effort equaled reward.
But eventually, I had to log off. And when I did, the reality was still there. Nine million dollars. Gone.
Meanwhile, God Had Other Plans
Looking back now, I can see what I couldn't see then. God wasn't absent in that moment. He was right there, protecting me from something I didn't even know I needed protection from.
What would I have done with $9 million at that stage of my life? Would it have drawn me closer to God, or further away? Would it have built character, or destroyed it? Would I have stayed hungry for purpose, or gotten comfortable with wealth?
I'll never know for certain. But what I do know is that a few months later, something unexpected happened: I started an internship at the Missouri Baptist Convention.
If I had cashed out that $9 million, I never would have taken that internship. I wouldn't have needed it. But I did take it. And that decision changed everything.
That internship led to five years of ministry work. Five years of learning servant leadership. Five years of using technology to serve churches and advance the Gospel. Five years that shaped who I am today—not just as an entrepreneur, but as a husband, father, and follower of Christ.
The Lesson
Life is full of peaks and valleys. Some of them we create. Others are created for us. And sometimes, what looks like the biggest loss of your life is actually God's greatest protection.
I don't have that $9 million. But I have something more valuable: a family I love, businesses I'm passionate about, a ministry that matters, and faith that's been tested and proven strong.
The valley taught me what the peak never could: that my worth isn't measured in my portfolio, and my purpose isn't determined by my net worth.
Would I have preferred to learn that lesson a different way? Absolutely. But I'm grateful I learned it when I did.
Because the peak might have made me rich. But the valley made me who I am.
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