A hand wrapped around Sebastian’s forearm and yanked him forward, then forward again. He staggered into a small central room where two hallways met. Rectangular windows at sidewalk level above revealed the scene. A kid named Luke had pulled him out. Ben and Natasha stared at him with terrified eyes, their arms spread for balance as they fought to stay upright.

The building groaned and metal screamed. Pieces of the ceiling crashed down. Two of the room’s concrete walls collapsed inward, crashing into each other and forming a tent shape above their heads.

His heart roared. We’re going to die.

He’d continued to believe that for every one of the eight days he’d spent underground. Ben, Natasha, Genevieve, and Luke had families who loved them and were desperate for their safe return. Next to them, he was the broken toy nobody wanted.

We’re going to die.

When the search and rescue team took the building apart in an effort to reach them, he’d been sure the structure would cave in and they’d be crushed. Instead, God had protected them in the clearest way possible.

Sebastian had come face to face with the God he’d denied.

God did exist. He’d been wrong about that. But what was he supposed to do with a God who hadn’t saved his mother but had saved him?

After returning from El Salvador, he, Ben, Natasha, and Genevieve spent months traveling around and telling their story to reporters, churches, authors, screenwriters. The Colemans brought him to church with them on Sundays, sent him to church camp in the summers, took him on another mission trip, talked with him again and again about faith.

When he was a teenager, he’d prayed for salvation. His motives had been partly good. He’d honestly wanted God to fill the hungry hole within him that longed for security. But his motives had also been partly selfish. He’d been a practical, street-smart kid who’d seen the wisdom in hedging his bets for eternity.

To this day, he attended church semi-regularly. However, he’d never gotten over all of his resentment toward God. Nor could he bring himself to trust God fully.

In high school, he’d worked for a college scholarship. In college, he’d worked for a med school scholarship. In med school, he’d worked to become a surgeon. Himself, his degrees, his job, his bank account. Those things he could trust in.

Yet even though he’d gotten everything he’d ever wanted, his life had been flat for months. Now that he could finally stop clawing and scraping for the next achievement, he was realizing that . . .

It still wasn’t enough. Which infuriated him and left him feeling betrayed. Deceived.

No one would look at him these days and think of him as a broken toy nobody wanted.

No one, that is, except him.