The Change

First two messages

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The first sign of a shift in my mother’s beliefs came during a phone call. She brought up something new she’d learned from the Bible—that crosses and icons don’t draw people to God and are even discouraged by Him. Given my feelings about the cross I’d worn since childhood, I was pleased to hear it. I even shared with her how, on days I forgot to put the cross back on after a shower, I seemed to experience fewer troubles. The scripture that says lifeless objects shouldn’t be given undue respect made sense to me, reinforcing a view I already felt.

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The second message was even more significant. She gave her blessing for me to leave the navy. For a long time, I’d felt uncomfortable with the strict loyalty and obedience demanded, feeling it often veered close to idolatry. The sense that I was missing more meaningful opportunities only added to my restlessness. These two messages were simple, yet they struck a chord within me. My mother didn’t go further—perhaps because she was still learning herself, and conversations like these are often best had in person.

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Introduction to the truth

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After that phone call with my mother, I started thinking about my next steps. Just as I was setting plans to leave the navy, I was unexpectedly appointed to an active submarine, which required my regular presence on board. But with my mother’s support to move on, I began the process of resigning and developed a strategy for earning money by supplying retail stores. I took out a loan to get started and flew to Moscow for inventory.

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When I arrived home, my mother invited me to sit at the kitchen table as she prepared dinner. She asked me to listen closely without interruptions until she’d finished. I knew she was about to share something important, something deeply personal. For the next two hours, she presented her newfound beliefs. She spoke of Adam and Eve, of Jehovah God’s purpose for them to expand paradise on earth, and how their choices set humanity on a different path. She quoted prophecies fulfilled in history, those happening now, and others yet to come. This wasn’t like the “prophecies” I’d heard growing up—these were read directly from the Bible, each with explanations about historical fulfillment. She even presented scientific arguments, quoting Darwin and others, challenging the theory of evolution.

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She shared stories of real people who had transformed their lives with these teachings, including an old friend I knew and respected. They’d committed to living by God’s standards, with the hope of a future paradise on earth. I could see how inspired my mother was, striving to build a better world with people who genuinely followed biblical principles, rather than the ideals of a failed system.

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The story captivated me—my mother’s conviction was sincere, and she was a skilled speaker. I trusted her and respected her deeply, and there was no question of mental instability. But as inspiring as it sounded, it was difficult for me to embrace as my own. The ideals of loyalty, honor, and worship—especially for someone invisible—brought back memories of my grandmother’s practices, which I’d already distanced myself from. My own moral standards didn’t align with those I was hearing; I couldn’t imagine living by the 10 Commandments, another phrase that had circulated even in the Soviet vocabulary. 

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After listening, I told her honestly, “This story sounds very good, but it is not for me.” I could see it was hard for her to hear, but it was my truth, the only answer I could give.

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The Renewal of My Mother’s Faith

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This kitchen conversation marked my mother’s first chance to fully express her new vision and purpose in life. She had rediscovered the idealism she’d once held in her youth—to build a paradise on earth. But this time, the hope was grounded in her faith in Jesus Christ. Communism, with all its promises, had ultimately failed to achieve paradise, falling prey to corruption. Yet in Jesus, she saw a leader who, as Peter wrote, “committed no sin, nor was deception found in his mouth.” Jesus had left a model of uncorrupted, self-sacrificial love, someone who “bore our sins in his own body on the stake, so that we might die to sins and live to righteousness.” (1 Peter 2:21-25)

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My mother’s belief was that this leader, Jesus, offered a way out of the endless cycle of corruption and death that had plagued every other system. She was moved by the promise that, through Jesus’s sacrifice, God would one day “set free all those who were held in slavery all their lives by their fear of death.” (Hebrews 2:14,15) This was a freedom beyond what any earthly system could provide. In her mind, Jesus’s resurrection was a guarantee of this hope, a true liberation that communism had only claimed but could never fulfill. This changed everything for her.

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I could tell that this vision was deeply meaningful to her. She now wanted to grow into this Christlike person individually and collectively with others who shared her hope. I listened respectfully, but I also knew that I couldn’t embrace these beliefs myself. My mother understood, though I could imagine it saddened her. She’d found what she felt was the real purpose of life, and I could see that she was prepared for the possibility of separation, as Jesus had predicted: “I came to bring, not peace, but a sword… a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother.” (Matthew 10:32-36)

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While we continued to hold each other with respect, this newfound difference in beliefs marked a turning point in our relationship, casting a quiet, unspoken tension over our conversations.

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A World Apart

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During that short visit, lasting about four weeks, my mother and I shared many conversations, though I felt increasingly distant from her “New World.” My life was still tied to navy service, and I had just taken a loan to invest in inventory for retail stores. Meanwhile, my mother was preparing for a major step in her faith journey—dedicating her life to Jehovah and symbolizing it through water baptism at an international assembly of Jehovah’s Witnesses in Moscow, scheduled for July 1993. She even brought my grandmother to the event, which was held at the grand Olympiyskiy arena. It was a historic sight: thousands of Witnesses from around the world, openly carrying Bibles, freely walking the streets of Moscow, a city where religion had once been closely monitored by secret services.

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Despite my mother’s invitation, I turned it down, choosing instead to fly back to my navy base with a shipment of inventory for my business. It was a moment that left me with a sense of separation, realizing I was on my own path, far from the one my mother had embraced.

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A Mother’s Final Appeal

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Before I left, my mother made one last attempt to reach me. She could tell I’d made up my mind, but she felt what she’d found was too important for me to simply ignore. When I said “no” firmly, she took a step back, but with a quiet resolve, she said, “Maybe I pushed too hard, and you stumbled because of my methods. But please know that what I’m sharing isn’t just mine—it comes from God. Think about it: you’re not only saying no to me but to His invitation.” She urged me to call upon Jehovah’s name if I ever found myself feeling empty or frustrated with life, showing me Romans 10:13: “Everyone who calls on the name of Jehovah will be saved.” Then she handed me a Bible, a study aid, and a book on Evolution vs. Creation.

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When I returned to my service location, I had plenty of time to think over her words without any push. Staying connected wasn’t easy without telephones and computers in those days, and in the silence, I began reading the books she’d given me. But I found them dull, and, if I’m honest, a bit intimidating. Religion had always seemed a powerful force, one that even noble minds could get entangled in, and I wasn’t confident in my ability to resist such influence.

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I remembered the unsettling image of people kneeling in the temple, and although I knew my mother’s beliefs were thoughtful and logical, my grandmother’s weren’t. It was too much to figure out alone. Besides, I wasn’t looking for God; unlike my mother, I felt fine without Him. My mind was on my business plans, and my life felt full enough as it was.

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The Drive Toward Independence

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As I stepped into adulthood, I felt a strong urge to become independent, to build something solid under my feet. My mother had taken her own steps in this direction, finding a way to support herself and her walk with God, contributing to what she believed was His purpose in creating a community capable of bringing paradise to earth. I was still working to stand on my own, and with the world changing so rapidly, it felt even more important to lay a foundation that would give me a secure start.

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Later, I came to see that our Creator wants us to strive for independence, just as any parent wants to see their child grow strong and capable. Jesus expressed this when he said, “For just as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted also to the Son to have life in himself.” (John 5:26) and "Whoever puts faith in me, just as the scripture has said: ‘From deep within him streams of living water will flow.’” - John 7:38. At the time, this idea of a God who would encourage autonomy was unknown to me—something that takes time to learn, even after it’s introduced. One early introduction to this thought came in Acts 17:24-28, which describes God as "The God who made the world and all the things in it, being, as he is, Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in handmade temples;  nor is he served by human hands as if he needed anything, because he himself gives to all people life and breath and all things.  And he made out of one man every nation of men to dwell on the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and the set limits of where men would dwell,  so that they would seek God, if they might grope for him and really find him, although, in fact, he is not far off from each one of us.  For by him we have life and move and exist."

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Reflecting on my experience in the Orthodox temple at the Black Sea, where my grandmother took me to worship God, I can vividly recall the unease and confusion I felt. Now, imagine the immense relief I experienced when I read these liberating words in the Bible: “He does not dwell in handmade temples; nor is he served by human hands as if he needed anything, because he himself gives to all people life and breath and all things.” That made perfect sense! My power of reason was fully satisfied with such clear and logical terms.

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If someone were to try convincing me to accept ideas or practices that do not resonate with my common sense, my reasoning—my “ears of God-given conscience”—would not allow such statements to penetrate or take root in my understanding of both the visible and the invisible. This scripture affirmed what my inner logic had been yearning for, grounding my faith in something both rational and spiritually profound. 

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Later, these reflections brought much deeper understanding to me, particularly regarding the profound words in Isaiah: “No one will teach his neighbor or his brother, saying, ‘Know Jehovah!’ For they will all know me, from the least to the greatest of them” (Jeremiah 31:34, echoed in Hebrews 8:11). This inner knowledge, written on our hearts, resonates with the truth that our connection with Jehovah is not dependent on external rituals or physical temples. It frees us from the twisted logic of manipulation, aligning with the apostle Paul’s warning: “Look out that no one takes you captive by means of the philosophy and empty deception according to human tradition, according to the elementary things of the world and not according to Christ” (Colossians 2:8).

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Jesus himself highlighted this when he promised: “The spirit of the truth, which the world cannot receive, because it neither sees it nor knows it. You know it, because it remains with you and is in you” (John 14:17). This assurance confirmed that true worship and understanding of Jehovah come through the guidance of His holy spirit, dwelling within us—not through physical buildings, human philosophies, or man-made traditions. This truth brought me immense clarity and spiritual freedom, liberating me from the oppressive grip of someone else’s twisted interpretations and helping me fully appreciate the simplicity and beauty of true worship.

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This Scripture beautifully represents a balance between what we can do on our own and what we can do with God’s help. Limits are limits. We can’t go beyond them, and that’s by design. I can’t recall if my mother shared this verse with me directly, but I remember the seed of the idea: What if God really exists? What if He offers me an invitation to know Him? What if I’m missing an opportunity? The thought my mother planted before I left her home—this idea of rejecting God—stayed with me. Though I didn’t immediately settle on a path, I began allowing myself to ponder in that direction.

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Facing Boundaries and the Quiet Call to Seek

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As life went on, I realized that not everything was progressing as smoothly as I’d hoped. Business was developing more slowly, and the situation in the country was worsening—the economy was falling apart. A sense of hard limits weighed on my progress, making me question my own strategies. My intuition whispered that the road ahead wasn’t going to be easy or straightforward; there was a sense of vanity and futility I hadn’t anticipated, and I was beginning to see that this struggle was shared by many. It wasn’t just my path—it seemed that this road was difficult for everyone. Giving up was never an option in my family. This unwavering determination is a spiritual inheritance passed down through generations, though its origins blur between the resilience instilled by our family values and the tenacity encouraged by communist ideology.

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At the same time, the invitation to “seek God” was beginning to sound more attractive. If it was possible to “grope for Him and really find him,” as the Scriptures say, and if He wasn’t far off even from me, this path might lead to something greater than just progress on my own terms. Yet, I couldn’t picture myself making a full change. The life of a Christian seemed out of reach—something beyond what I could realistically step into.

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The New Year’s Curiosity and the Invisible World

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As the New Year of 1994 approached, my friends and I decided to try something a little unusual—we played at calling spirits. It was a game, something done out of curiosity rather than belief, much like how many Americans celebrate Halloween without really thinking about any deeper connection to the supernatural. For us, talking openly or experimenting with spiritual practices was still new, a curiosity born out of decades of spiritual silence in our society.

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What surprised me, though, was the sense that something—someone—might actually exist in an invisible world, able to communicate beyond the physical realm. I wasn’t tempted to explore further; I’d seen enough of the negative consequences through my grandmother’s experiences. And, more than anything, the introduction to the spiritual realm that my mother had given me through the Bible felt far more reliable. I was getting closer to the realization that I must try with Jehovah God.

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A Simple Prayer, a Powerful Realization

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I’m not sure how much time passed after that New Year—maybe a month or so—but after another disappointing event, my mother’s words came back to me: “Everyone who calls upon Jehovah’s name will be saved.” I was beginning to see that things weren’t flowing well in my life, and the thought struck me: if Jehovah is real, the one true God, and if He is committed to helping everyone who calls upon His name, why not try?

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I wasn’t used to praying, and I didn’t even know what to say. But my mother’s guidance was simple: JUST CALL UPON JEHOVAH'S NAME. So, silently, in my heart, I focused on this step and said, “Jehovah!”—my whole prayer in one word. 

Immediately, thoughts began to follow: “If I call upon Jehovah’s name… If I’m expecting some help from Him… I have to change my life, like Jehovah’s Witnesses do. I have to adopt His principles from the Bible.” I didn’t know exactly how, but I understood that if I was going to call on Jehovah, I would need to live accordingly. The sense of commitment settled in—it was something I knew I had to do.

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A Precious Moment of Clarity

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Looking back, I see that moment as incredibly precious. To simply call upon Jehovah’s name and then reach the conclusion that I would change my life and become His witness—it’s almost unbelievable. After all, I was convinced that this path wasn’t for me; I felt far removed from what Jehovah expected. But somehow, in that instant, the decision seemed clear and natural. It’s hard to imagine coming to such a conclusion on my own, especially given how disillusioned I’d felt watching our leaders change their skins so easily, without any genuine transformation. And yet, here I was, ready to make a decision I’d never thought possible.

 

Reflecting on it now, I’m certain that this wasn’t just me. This was Jehovah’s personal touch, His holy spirit guiding me. It brings to mind the moment when Jesus’s apostles asked, “Who really can be saved?” and he replied, “With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:25-26). I believe that in calling on His name, I experienced His spirit at work, clarifying my thoughts and leading me toward Him. Just as Psalm 36:9 says, “By your light we can see light,” and that light was from Him.

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That’s why this moment is so dear to my heart. It’s a reminder of Jehovah’s promise to be there for those who call on Him, and it marks the beginning of a journey I hadn’t foreseen but now can’t imagine having missed. Now, 30 years later, this event from my own experience is helping me draw a very unique conclusion—one that I wish to introduce to you later in this book. I still need to piece together my story so that you can see the broader picture of what else led me to this conclusion. That chapter will likely be dedicated to reasoning on how "the spirit bears witness" as described in Romans 8:16: "The spirit itself bears witness with our spirit that we are God’s children." This reasoning has been deeply personal and transformative for me, and I hope it will resonate with you as well once the full context is shared.

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A New Army, A New Purpose

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This small miracle—the decision to follow Jehovah—wouldn’t mean much without real actions to back it up. The words from James—“Indeed, just as the body without spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead”—resonate with me, though I don’t claim to attach any special meaning to them. Still, there’s something about that perspective that makes sense. James, who grew up in the same household as Jesus, saw firsthand how Jesus developed and became who he was. This insight makes his words particularly meaningful to me now. It’s a reminder that faith, on its own, isn’t enough; it’s what we do with that faith that brings it to life. I had A LOT to do.

 

I was motivated to complete my navy service and find a way to balance my new business with this newfound purpose. Fortunately, the navy now required all staff to sign contracts to stay on, shifting from the former system where we served based solely on our allegiance. This offered me a choice, one I took seriously: if I was going to be part of Christ’s “army,” I couldn’t take up arms. As my mother had reminded me, “all those who take up the sword will perish by the sword.” (Matthew 26:52)

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Caiaphas’s anxiety about Jesus went deeper than theological disagreements; it was rooted in politics. More and more people were placing their faith in Jesus, viewing him as the Christ, the King. This wasn’t merely a religious statement—it had political implications. A King in Judea who hadn’t been appointed by the Romans could easily be seen as a rebellious figure, someone who might lead an insurrection. And if the Romans saw this as disobedience, they could respond with troops to crush any hint of rebellion. Caiaphas understood this possibility and was deeply concerned.

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This argument resurfaced during Jesus’s trial before Pilate. Pilate wanted to release Jesus, but the religious leaders brought the political stakes into sharp focus: “If you release this man, you are not a friend of Caesar. Everyone who makes himself a king speaks against Caesar.” (John 19:12) Pilate’s hesitations were overruled by the crowd, and he finally succumbed to their pressure. When he asked, “Shall I execute your king?” the chief priests replied, “We have no king but Caesar.” (John 19:15)

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In the end, Pilate handed Jesus over to be executed, with political pressures and allegiance to Caesar taking precedence over justice. Caiaphas’s concerns, from a political perspective, were not entirely unfounded, though they led to a tragic outcome. And some 36 years later, the Romans returned, killed over a million Jews, and destroyed Jerusalem—including the temple, which remains in ruins to this day. It leaves us with a question: Who will you put your trust in? Christ, who taught that “everyone who takes up the sword will perish by the sword,” or those who wield the sword to protect their nation’s ideals? (Matthew 26:52)

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It’s not an easy choice, but the difference is profound. As Jesus himself said, “Everyone, then, who acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father who is in the heavens. But whoever disowns me before men, I will also disown him before my Father who is in the heavens… I came to bring, not peace, but a sword. For I came to cause division, with a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother… Whoever does not accept his torture stake and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his soul will lose it, and whoever loses his soul for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10:32-39)

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Choosing allegiance to Jesus is a commitment to a different path, a kingdom built not on political alliances or military might, but on faith and enduring loyalty to principles beyond this world.

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It wasn’t an easy decision. I knew that such a stance carried consequences. My brothers in Russia were being imprisoned for this very position*, and in 1997, I presented in a courtroom as a prosecutor pushed to ban Jehovah’s Witnesses in Moscow for discouraging military service. But it wasn’t Jehovah’s Witnesses who discouraged it; it was Jesus himself who took this stand, even at the cost of his life. As the High Priest Caiaphas justified, “It is to your benefit for one man to die in behalf of the people rather than for the whole nation to be destroyed.” (John 11:49,50)

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* https://www.jw.org/en/news/region/russia/jehovahs-witnesses-in-prison/

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When you are in the army, you are at least armed, prepared to defend yourself. But in Jesus’s army, you fight without weapons, knowing you may face humiliation, even beatings or death. Historically, Christians have faced these sacrifices, going into battle armless, relying on faith rather than weapons. To join Christ’s “army” is to accept this vulnerability and the sacrifices that come with it, prepared to walk a path where strength is found in endurance and faith, rather than force.

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A Struggle for Allegiance

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Choosing to forgo military service can be a profound struggle, especially for a man, whether Russian or American. Both cultures place a strong emphasis on loyalty to one’s country and often frame their role in the world as a unique mission. The country I grew up in had a bright vision—liberation of hardworking people, a paradise built by the collective. Yet corruption crept into the leadership and the system itself, undermining those ideals. And now, soldiers are sacrificing their lives in Ukraine. Just as American soldiers once did in Afghanistan. As did those in Nazi Germany, Israel, and Palestine. Each side fights with ideals in mind, yet at what cost?

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According to the Bible, Jesus showed us a better way. I’m deeply grateful that, when I became a U.S. citizen, America accepted me as I am, allowing me to modify my oath of allegiance to reflect my beliefs and waive the requirement for military service. I appreciate the freedom to stand for principles of peace while embracing my new country as my own.

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And really, if I hadn’t made a change, I could be sitting in a Russian submarine carrying ballistic missiles with nuclear warheads, somewhere—who knows how close to the U.S. coast. Or I could be at the Russian Navy headquarters in Moscow, directing submarines to strategic positions. In that scenario, whose servant would I be? Whose will would I be faithfully carrying out? It’s a sobering thought, and one that deepens my appreciation for the choice I made to align my life with Christ’s teachings. 

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I will revisit this chapter by adding content that highlights the achievements made possible through such liberation, even as we contend with the firm hand of those who hold authority over others. It is a delicate balance—maintaining respect for the rules and for those entrusted with such powerful positions, while engaging in a fair and principled fight for what is right. This respectful approach ensures that we honor the structure of authority while holding firmly to the integrity of our convictions, demonstrating that liberation is not about rebellion but about aligning ourselves with truth and justice.

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A Personal Path

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Perhaps others in my position would have chosen to stay in their service, and I’m not here to convince anyone to make the exact same choice. This path, this understanding of my relationship with Jehovah, is my own. As I said from the beginning, this is just one story—my story. I don’t expect others to see it in exactly the same way or to feel the same compulsion to follow. It’s a deeply personal journey, and I share it not to prescribe but to offer a glimpse of the steps I took and the meaning I found in them.

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A Sensitive Boundary

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On my next trip to Moscow, I visited my mom but wasn’t ready to discuss the prayer I had said. I feared that if I shared too soon, it might open the door to her pushing for a conversion before I was comfortable with such a quick shift. I didn’t want any human guidance in something I felt should come directly from Jehovah. As the Bible says, “they were born, not from blood or from a fleshly will or from man’s will, but from God.” (John 1:13)

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Perhaps that’s why Jesus himself said, “A prophet is not without honor except in his home territory and among his relatives and in his own house.” (Mark 6:4) I deeply respected my mom; her presentations had a profound effect on me and helped me understand and accept biblical truths. But when it came to developing my own relationship with Jehovah, I wanted to make sure I was doing it for the right reasons. It was crucial that I not confuse pleasing people with pleasing God. As Galatians 1:10 reminds us, “If I were still pleasing men, I would not be Christ’s slave.”

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This was sensitive ground for me, and eventually, I had to ask her to stop talking to me about it. That “ban” was only for her, though—I was open to discussing these matters with other Witnesses. This journey needed to feel as genuine and unpressured as possible.

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A Glimpse of the Western World

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Meeting Witnesses from the West in my mom’s congregation gave me a unique view of what freedom of faith looked like beyond the Iron Curtain. With the fall of the Soviet Union, Witnesses from around the world were drawn to Russia, eager to support the preaching work and see firsthand the changes taking place. This is how I met Steve Davis from the U.S. and Tom and Aloma Baker from Canada.

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Despite not speaking Russian, their presence was impactful. It was fascinating to see people who had left economically prosperous countries to come to Russia, using their savings to support the work. Steve, who had extensive construction experience, devoted himself to theocratic projects, and when I became a Witness, I even worked with him remodeling a missionary home. Tom and Aloma moved with their children, ages 15 and 19, setting an example of serving “where the need is great.” Their quiet dedication, respectful demeanor, and genuine Christian personalities drew me in without words. As 1 Peter 3:1-2 says, “won without a word through the conduct… because of having been eyewitnesses of your chaste conduct together with deep respect.”

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Their influence on my desire to become a Witness was significant, even more powerful than that of the “prophet in my own home.” They showed me a compelling example of faith that needed no translation.

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A Joyful Realization

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By March or April of 1994, I finally softened to the idea of studying the Bible with my mom. Together, we went through the first few chapters of the study publication "You Can Live Forever in Paradise on Earth", which explores various biblical themes. The study generated questions and reasoning based on Scripture, inviting me to see how different parts of the Bible harmoniously shed light on life’s biggest questions. This type of study required honest answers—answers you couldn’t offer without truly believing in their truthfulness. There was no room for hiding or pretending; I had to be genuine.

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As I answered the questions, I was astonished to realize I was responding with full confidence, genuinely believing in what I was saying. It was as if I was watching myself from the outside, amazed that I was the one affirming these truths. I was so filled with joy that I couldn’t stop laughing—sometimes loudly, sometimes uncontrollably. Thinking back to Sarah in the Bible, who laughed when she heard she’d bear a child in her old age, I understand her laughter not as mockery, but as an expression of joy born from a holy spirit.

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At the time, my mother misinterpreted my joyful reactions, assuming I wasn’t serious about the study. She decided it would be better for me to study with Steve Davis. Steve did his best, but with the language barrier, he eventually passed the study on to a Russian-speaking brother. Within three months, I had learned enough to start participating in field service, where we knocked on doors to find others who wanted to study the Bible. Looking back, I see Jehovah’s holy spirit guiding me each step of the way, and that initial joy continues to deepen my appreciation for this experience.​

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The Big Decision

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After months of study and reflection, I felt my understanding deepening, and my commitment growing. The initial excitement had carried me far, but I knew the time was approaching for a serious choice. This wasn’t just a question of belief; it was a decision that would reshape my entire life, affecting my career, my relationships, and my place in the world. The path I’d been on was leading me to a crossroads, and it was clear that I couldn’t stand at it forever. Now, I had to decide: would I take the next step and dedicate myself fully to the path I’d glimpsed?