Forgiven and Set Free

13 Hours in the Bitter Cold of Washington, D.C. and the Road to America 250

There are nights that don’t just change your life. They break something open inside you.

For me, that night was in Washington, D.C. I didn’t go there chasing history or attention. I went because something in my heart told me I needed to be there. I spent 13 hours standing in the bitter cold — wind cutting through every layer, feet numb, doubt creeping in. Just a regular guy from Mound, Minnesota showing up with nothing but his heart.

Then the moment came inside Capital One Arena. I looked up and shouted the words that came straight from my chest: “We love you, Mr. President.”

What should have been statistically impossible happened. The President and the First Lady both turned. They searched the crowd. They found me. They smiled. They waved. No one else has ever done that.

But standing in that freezing cold for those 13 hours did something deeper to me. It became my turning point.

In that cold, I realized something I couldn’t unsee: If Jesus can forgive me for every mistake I’ve ever made, every time I was wrong, every regret I’ve carried… then I have no excuse not to forgive others. Even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts.

That truth is written all over the image at the top of this page. That chibi version of me, reaching up and shaking hands with Jesus. The past crossed out. “Forgiven and Set Free.” It reminds me of the words from Chris Tomlin’s “Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)” — “I once was lost, but now I’m found… My chains are gone, I’ve been set free.”

That’s exactly how it feels.

Even with the pretty girl I grew up with — the one born just one week after me. I was the one who caused things to go south all those years ago. I was too much, too intense, and didn’t let things grow naturally. After pulling off something nearly impossible, it showed me I was in the wrong for not letting people come at their own pace. You can’t force life.

Most men in my shoes would have come back full of bitterness. I could never do that. We grew up together. So before any spotlight, before any notoriety, before the world knew my name, I reached out to her first. I wanted to make things right and offer forgiveness the way Jesus offers it — freely, humbly, without holding anything back.

In the bottom of my heart, I hope I’ll be able to talk to her again one day. But I’ve learned you can’t force things. Whatever will be, will be. If I can move the White House, I know everything else will work out in its own good timing. I hope she’s well, no matter what happens.

There’s already too much bitterness in this world. I don’t want to be one more person carrying old wounds like they’re proof I was right. I want to be someone who chooses to forgive.

While some media outlets and podcasts continue to look the other way, one national media outlet even told me my story was “cute.” The White House doesn’t do cute. The White House rarely moves like this. One private civilian receiving a personal letter from the President of the United States is American history. Those letters are already preserved in the National Archives and will one day be part of the Trump Presidential Library.

I didn’t wait for anyone’s permission or platform. I built this website myself. I’ve shown Jesus-like forgiveness. And whether any national media outlet ever talks to me or not, I don’t care. I’ve already changed the history of my hometown of Mound, Minnesota and my childhood school district, Westonka Public Schools. My letters reached the White House and I received two personal responses from them. That’s history — whether they like it or not.

I’m not here to chase coverage. I’m here because I made something real. When a regular civilian pulls off something that has never happened before in American history and the media chooses to ignore it, that says more about them than it does about me. They’re in it for the negative stories. This one doesn’t fit their script.

As I get ready to travel back out to Washington, D.C. for America 250 — America’s 250th Birthday celebrations — I’m carrying all of this with me. I’m super excited. The last time I was in that city, I got to love America out loud and bend the White House twice. If that was possible, who knows what’s in store next?

While I’m there, I’m open to talking. If any media outlet, podcast, or organization wants to have a real conversation about this story, they can reach me directly through X or Instagram. I’m willing to talk. Otherwise, I’m going to enjoy being back in that city knowing I already made American history — and that my story is preserved in the National Archives and heading to the Trump Presidential Library.

I don’t need anyone’s help to validate what happened. I built my own platform. I don’t need anyone else’s permission to stand in what I did.

The image at the top of this page says it better than I ever could. That chibi version of me, shaking hands with Jesus. The past crossed out. “Forgiven and Set Free.” The suitcase of my journey sitting right there on the National Mall, history in the making, with the Washington Monument rising behind us.

That’s where I am right now. Forgiven. Set free. And walking forward into whatever America 250 has in store — not with a chip on my shoulder, but with a heart that stood in the bitter cold of Washington, D.C. and came out the other side choosing to forgive.

Because if He can forgive us… we can forgive each other. That’s the only way any of this makes sense. That’s the only way we heal.