I’ve written a couple of pieces (here and here) about the so-called “God Pill,” and specifically Roosh V‘s remarkable conversion to (Orthodox, it seems?) Christianity.  Roosh’s conversion, it seems, is quite sincere, and he’s put his money where his belief is by unpublishing many of his books dealing with “game,” the art of seduction.

Roosh wrote an essay about a month ago, “How I Turned To God,” in which he explains the events and influences that led to his conversion.  Roosh was the archetype of the atheist materialist:  an evolution-espousing microbiologist, who then began a successful—if only in the material sense—career as a professional Don Juan.

He literally had sex and wrote about it for a living.  As he writes, “How could a man who was so far from God come to have complete trust in Him practically overnight?”

It’s a fascinating journey.  Roosh details how he began dabbling in Eastern philosophies, particularly Taoism, with its believe in a “source” that connects all things, a sort of “proto-god,” as he writes.  Eastern philosophies and religions introduced the concept that material existence is either meaningless or illusory, but did not offer any spiritual satisfaction or redemption.

Roosh then read through the entire Bible, but found himself trapped by modern notions of logic, and while he appreciated the Bible (particularly Job and Ecclesiastes), he experienced no spiritual growth or greater understanding of his spiritual emptiness.  At the same time, however, he decreased his indulgence in casual sex.

But then the world intruded, and even Roosh’s vestigial moral sense gnawed at him.  To quote Roosh at length:

At around the same time, I started perceiving an increase in the evil around me. I wasn’t the epitome of good, but even I had a limit to immorality. I would fornicate as much as possible, but I couldn’t accept abortion, the globalist agenda of destroying individual nations with third-world immigration, and homosexuality. You could argue that my vehemence against a fornicating homosexual was a way to relieve my own guilt of fornicating with women, since we were both behaving in a similarly sterile way that viewed sex as recreation, but it was clear to me that the “love is love” campaigns were intermediary steps towards something more sinister—the grooming and molestation of children. My fornication was the end goal, and a faulty one at that, but developments like Drag Queen Story Time show that one of the gay establishment’s principal aims is converting children to their lifestyle.

It is remarkable how, as wickedness abounds around us, it can serve to awaken us from our stupor.  Casual attitudes about sex could be tolerated or overlooked when it was just an extension of normal heterosexuality.  That didn’t make those attitudes correct, or free of devastating consequences, but the downsides weren’t immediately apparent.  Religious and social conservatives who warned about the dangers of casual sex were mocked as prudes and accused of engaging in “slippery slope” logical fallacy.

Well, the slippery slope is real, and its destruction is dire.  It destroys families and lives.  Young people are seduced into transgenderism and “alternative lifestyles.”  and Western governments—in the name of “equality” and “rights”—punish parents who try to prevent their three-year olds from having gender reassignment surgery.

Roosh gives a list of several events that shocked him out of his complacency, including the White House lit up in rainbow colors after the unconstitutional Obergefell decision forced gay marriage on the States, whether they liked it or not.  That was a major blow for social and Christian conservatives, and the Obama Administration spiked the football in the end zone with the lighting stunt.  The National Geographic cover with a transgender child lounging suggestively—just eighteen months after Obergefell—confirmed the worst fears of social conservatives (that event also makes Roosh’s list).

In the midst of this soul-searching, Roosh lost his sister to cancer.  Eleven months later, he “felt the urge to pray.”  Once he began praying, he felt his burdens lifted.

There were two other incidences, both of which are best read in the author’s own words:

There were two little accidents that were important in my turn towards faith. The first was my baptism in an Armenian Orthodox church at the age of 9. My mother never forced me to go to church, but she did force me to get baptized. Thirty years later, it was a simple matter to go right back to the same church as the same spiritual child.

The second accident was reading Darwinian Fairytales by David Stove in early 2015. As a trained scientist, the biggest blockage I had for turning to God was the supposed infallibility of evolution. We were not created by God, I believed, but evolved over billions of years from a primordial soup that randomly developed consciousness. Stove’s book poked so many holes into my faith of evolution that I could intellectually and rationally discard it as the main theory for explaining how humans were created. There are evolutionary aspects to how God maintains the natural world, but evolution was not our creator. In fact, I only had to look at my own behavior to realize that there was nothing evolutionary about my sterile pursuit of fornication, which I claimed to base on “biology.” Once this key blockage was removed, the gate to Heaven was open.

Roosh’s conversion was spiritual, but also intellectual.  Also, notice how God’s timing is not always quick.  I remember a song my old church choir used to sing, with the lyrics, “He may not come when you want Him/But He’ll be there right on time.”  We get so fixated on our timing, and in the midst of the darkness, we wonder why He won’t do something (I’ve actually shouted this—impetuously—at God).

His story is also a reminder that, no matter where we are spiritually, Christ is waiting, with open arms, for our return.  That’s sometimes hard for me to understand, which is why it’s the great Mystery of our faith.  But my inability to understand God’s Love doesn’t mean it’s not real.  That’s my failure, not God’s.

Roosh’s salvation is a powerful reminder of that.  God loves you.  That’s why He sent His Son to die for us.

If Roosh can accept that, so can any of us.