Keys to the Kingdom: Measuring What I Don't Yet Have

I've been trying to pinpoint the moment I became a Christian, and I can't find it. Not because my memory is bad, but because I'm not sure it's happened yet. Or maybe it has, and I just don't know how to recognize it. Which raises a question that's been keeping me up: What is that moment of conviction that leads people to believe Christianity is real?

Someone at church told me their faith was a gradual journey—years of small movements toward God. But we both know the other stories: the Damascus Road conversions, the altar calls where everything changes in an instant, the people who can name the date and time they "got saved." Why do some people get the easy realization—a clear, unmistakable sense that God is there and they belong to Him—while others must struggle for years? Why does the threshold seem lower for some than for others?

I'm bothered by the inequality of it. Some suffer more than others to arrive at the same destination.

The Paul Problem

Paul's conversion is the archetype we all reference, but the more I look at it, the less clear it becomes. Paul himself makes no mention of a conversion on the road to Damascus in his own letters, whereas Acts gives us three separate accounts of the event. He went three days without sight, eating, or drinking before Ananias came to him in Damascus. So when did he become Christian? The moment the light struck him? When Ananias laid hands on him? When he was baptized? When he started preaching?

Or was it gradual—a series of doubts about his persecution of the church that culminated in that dramatic encounter, followed by years of working out what it all meant?

The ambiguity matters because it suggests we don't actually have a clear model for how conviction works.

Five Claims About Conviction (That I'm Not Sure Are True)

Here's what I'm trying to examine, not assert:

Claim 1: Conversion is a binary switch. You're either Christian or you're not. There's a threshold you cross, even if you can't see it clearly.

Claim 2: There are events leading up to the switch. No one arrives at faith in a vacuum. Even Paul had his zealous study of Torah, his encounters with Stephen and other Christians he persecuted.

Claim 3: The lead-up varies wildly. Some people have a near-flatline journey—small, incremental movements over years. Others have a dramatic crescendo—a compressed timeline of intense experiences leading to a single overwhelming moment.

Claim 4: The conviction itself varies. Some people report absolute certainty. Others describe it as a quiet knowing. Still others can't articulate it at all but change their entire lives anyway.

Claim 5: Conviction can waver. Even after the threshold, doubt returns. Peter denied Christ. Thomas demanded proof. Paul called himself the "chief of sinners" years into his ministry.

I'm not claiming these are true. I'm asking: If they are valid descriptions of how conversion works, how do we examine this phenomenon? How do we measure conviction?

What Would Measurement Even Look Like?

Psychologist William James described conversion as either a sudden, dramatic shift or a slow, progressive evolution in spiritual awareness, but he was observing patterns, not measuring internal states. How would we actually quantify conviction if we wanted to study it?

Self-reported certainty scales? Track prayer frequency and life choices as behavioral proxies? Neurological scans if we had the technology? Or is conviction fundamentally unmeasurable—something that exists between you and God alone?

I don't know. But I'm troubled by the fact that we talk about conversion constantly in Christian circles without a shared vocabulary for what's actually happening internally. We have testimonies, but we don't have frameworks. We have Paul's story, but we argue about what it means.

And for those of us still waiting at the threshold, unsure if we've crossed it or not, the lack of clarity is isolating.

An Invitation (Not a Conclusion)

I'm writing this from the position of a student, not a teacher. I don't have conviction yet—or at least, I don't recognize it if I do. I've heard Christians describe it, but I'm still trying to understand what leads to it, what causes it, how it looks, and in what ways people arrive at it.

If you're reading this and you can name the moment you became Christian, I'd genuinely love to hear: What made it unmistakable for you? Was it a feeling, a decision, a revelation, a surrender? Or was it something you only recognized in retrospect, months or years later?

And if you're like me—still searching for that moment of clarity—what are you watching for? What would count as evidence that your belief has become real?

What I'm Trying (You're Welcome to Join Me)

I'm not qualified to prescribe practices when I'm still figuring this out myself. But here's what I'm attempting as I examine this question:

1. Tracking my own certainty. I'm rating my conviction 1-10 each evening for a week and noting what happened that day. Maybe patterns will emerge. Maybe they won't.
2. Asking Christians when they became Christian. I want to hear if they give me a date, a range, or "I don't know." I'm curious how they describe the before and after.
3. Reading Acts 9, 22, and 26 side by side. I'm going to mark every moment where Paul could plausibly claim "this is when I became Christian" and see how many options there actually are.
4. Journaling: "What would count as evidence—to me, not to anyone else—that my belief is real?"
5. Sitting with the discomfort. I'm trying not to force certainty I don't have. I'm asking God to meet me in the waiting, even though I'm not sure if He's already here and I just can't see Him yet.

If you're in a similar place, maybe these experiments will help you too. If you've already crossed the threshold and are looking back, I'd be grateful to hear what worked for you.

A Prayer for the Threshold

For Guidance (Book of Common Prayer 2019, #77)

O God, by whom the meek are guided in judgment, and light rises up in darkness for the godly: Grant us, in all our doubts and uncertainties, the grace to ask what you would have us do, that the Spirit of wisdom may save us from all false choices; that in your light we may see light, and in your straight path we may not stumble; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A Personal Prayer

God, You know the moment I became Yours, even if I don't. You see the trajectory when all I see are disconnected dots. Help me trust Your certainty when mine wavers. And if I'm still outside the Kingdom, knocking and waiting—show me the door. I'm willing to enter. I just need to recognize it when it opens.

Amen.

This post is part of Letters Across Three Kingdoms, where I'm learning to see Christianity, Japanese culture, and American life through each other's lenses—and trying to figure out where I fit in all three.