I’ve always been like this: as a child, I had an innate curiosity, a drive to explore, to understand, to experience the world first-hand. And alongside that curiosity was also a kind of instinctive courage: the sort that makes you say ‘let’s go’ when you’re not quite sure what lies ahead. I loved adventure; I loved exploring the unknown. And perhaps, even then, without realising it, I was chasing something that wasn’t just a place on the map…

I was brought up in the Catholic faith. I breathed that atmosphere; I learnt its language, its customs, its prayers. I also had moments of genuine faith, moments when I felt there was a presence, that God wasn’t just an idea. But as I grew up, a rift emerged: questions were piling up inside me to which I could find no answers. I’m not talking about superficial doubts, but a real void, a sense of incompleteness. I looked at the religion I knew and thought: “Is this all there is?” I could no longer find fulfilment in what had previously seemed enough to me.

So, in my early twenties, following a personal crisis, I gave it up. And I began to explore other things: different religions, philosophies, spirituality, cults, New Age practices. I was hungry for truth. I wanted to understand what life really was, what lay behind the invisible. And my adventurous nature did the rest: I started travelling, a lot. Dozens of countries, all over the world, starting when I was in my early twenties. I travelled to see, but also to seek. Every new place seemed to promise a piece of the answer. Every spiritual tradition seemed to say to me: “Perhaps it is here.” But it was never a convincing answer, and my life, little by little, actually became increasingly insipid and empty…

On one of my many trips to a Latin American country, however, I entered a realm I never imagined could be so real and so dangerous: I fell victim to voodoo. At first I didn’t understand: it was as if something had slipped over me, like a shadow. Then my life began to crumble. I fell ill. And, even more terribly, I began to lose my sense of reality. It wasn’t just sadness or confusion: it was as if my mind and my heart were no longer ‘mine’. As if someone had access to my thoughts, my emotions, my peace.

And instead of running towards the light, I did the only thing that seemed possible: to try to protect myself and feel better, I started studying and practising those very same voodoo techniques. It’s one of the things I look back on with clarity today, and it shocks me. But at the time I was desperate: I just wanted to stop suffering, I wanted to catch my breath. And indeed, for a while, it seemed to work: temporary improvements, brief respites. But then I would fall deeper and deeper. It was a rollercoaster that grew ever steeper: every ‘solution’ opened a worse door.

One day, whilst I was back in South America, I found myself standing before a huge statue of Jesus, which stood on a promontory by the sea. I can’t quite explain why, but it was as if, in that instant, all my resistance crumbled. I had no more theories, no more ‘alternatives’, no more of my pride as a spiritual explorer. And I cried out to Him, with a visceral sincerity: “Save me, or I will die.” It wasn’t an elegant prayer. It was a cry!

A few months passed. And something unexpected happened: I received a job offer to move to another city, Siena. I accepted immediately, without hesitation. I needed a change of scenery, a change of life, to get away from that abyss. In Siena, at my new job, I met a colleague who struck me as rather ‘unusual’; she had a certain aura about her. I don’t know why, but I decided to confide my problems to her. Today I think it wasn’t a coincidence: it was as if an invisible hand were paving the way.

She invited me to a prayer meeting one Saturday evening in a church in Siena. I, who had been ‘everywhere’ spiritually and had tried so many things, wasn’t even sure I wanted to go. And indeed, incredibly, there were numerous obstacles and ‘incidents’, as if something wanted to stop me. But I, for the first time in a long while, said a prayer that sounded almost like a challenge: “God, if it’s that important, take me to this meeting, if you can.” And He did.

That meeting was Cantonuovo. I found it interesting, genuine, different. It wasn’t a ritual: there was life, there was real warmth, there was a faith that wasn’t just theory. So the following week I went to meet the founders. After a pleasant chat, in which I explained my problems, they spoke to me about Jesus and asked if I wanted them to pray for me. I agreed, without expecting anything in particular.

And there something happened that I cannot forget. I felt something filling me from within: it was a presence, a light. It radiated peace and joy. It wasn’t emotional suggestion: it was as if someone had truly ‘touched’ my soul. And the thought that crossed my mind was crystal clear: ‘This is everything I’ve been searching for in my travels, studies and explorations. This is exactly what I was looking for!’ In an instant, I realised that I’d travelled the world looking for what was now finding me: Jesus

In the days that followed I felt fine, but I realised I had to give up voodoo, which had only caused me trouble. So one evening I took all my ‘gadgets’ to Cantonuovo and the lads helped me destroy all the objects linked to that diabolical practice. It was a concrete gesture, like saying to the darkness, ‘You have no right here anymore.’ From that day on, I began attending all the meetings at Cantonuovo and reading the Bible voraciously.

Those were not easy months. Doubt crept in constantly: “What if it had all been an illusion? What if I was still in trouble with my past?” Sometimes the mind comes knocking precisely where you are most fragile. But, step by step, I learnt to trust, to walk, to let the truth be not just an idea but a relationship with Jesus.

After about six months, a seminar was held at Cantonuovo, where I received the Baptism in the Holy Spirit. It was a profound experience. And along with that depth, I also felt a clear call from God: to end a romantic relationship I was in at the time. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. It was one of those things that makes your stomach clench, because you realise that God loves you, but He is also setting you free, and freedom sometimes comes through letting go.

The following day I made that painful decision. And the moment I told the girl in question, I was overwhelmed by a cascade of love pouring down from heaven that swept me away. I burst out laughing; I could hardly stand because it was so powerful. I even asked God to ‘turn it down a notch’, because its power was literally overwhelming. It lasted perhaps thirty seconds, no more, but it marked me forever. In those thirty seconds, I realised that God is not a concept: He is a Father, and He is the source of all the love in the universe. He is real. And He knows how to confirm a choice that costs you, filling you with a love and joy that you cannot fabricate.

From that moment on, I decided to dedicate my life to the Lord and joined Cantonuovo and their ministry. In the years that followed, together with them, we did great things and reached thousands of people in Italy and across Europe. I, who had lived for myself, for my own pleasures, without any real purpose, found myself part of something that brought life to others. It was already a miracle, but it was only the beginning.

After a few years, in fact, I felt a new call from the Lord. He was calling me to leave everything behind and set out, as He did with Abraham. He would take care of the rest. Put like that, this sounds romantic. In reality, it’s terrifying! Because ‘leaving everything behind’ really did mean everything. I resigned. I left my job, my home, my friends, Cantonuovo, my ambulance volunteering, my family of origin and every certainty I had. And I set off, without a goal and without a specific destination. And I did it.

After the first few days of utter bewilderment (I think I cried for ten days, because I didn’t know what would become of my life!), I started volunteering in the country where I was, and then, step by step, I became a professional in the humanitarian sector, eventually going on to manage humanitarian programmes across entire countries. And so my life took a shape I could never have imagined: over the last twelve years I have lived in ten different countries: in Africa, South America, Central Asia and the Middle East. I have seen with my own eyes entire nations transformed, wars resolved, epidemics brought to an end, scientific discoveries to eradicate terrible diseases, hundreds of thousands of people reached, set free, healed or simply restored to dignity and hope. I know full well that this is not ‘my doing’; these things are too great for me. I am merely a ‘clay pot’. But I walk accompanied by a power that goes before me and sustains me: the Lord who guides me every day.

It is not an easy life, not at all! Having no fixed abode, no ‘permanent’ friends by my side, experiencing so much loneliness and homesickness. Sometimes fear. Endless hours of work, amidst wars, explosions, sleepless nights, epidemics, humanitarian disasters, hunger. There are days when the body is weary and the soul is tried. Yet, I would never go back. Because it is a life full of meaning. I am proud of what I do: helping those who suffer and those in need, and bearing witness to the Lord. For me, it is the most wonderful job in the world.

And when I return to Italy, I return with joy to see my friends at Cantonuovo. It is as if I had never left. It is a homecoming. They are with me wherever I go, and I feel that the bond forged in Christ is broken neither by distance nor by time. And I am certain that we will still do great things together.

This, at heart, is the story of a young man who lived only for himself, chasing pleasures, experiences and answers as one chases mirages. A person without a true purpose, even when he seemed ‘free’. And who, thanks to his encounter with Jesus, was brought back to the most authentic reality: that of God’s love, of true freedom, of vocation. Today, thank God, I bear the fruits of life for thousands of people around the world, and I bear witness to the power of the Kingdom of God. Not because I am special, but because Jesus truly sets us free. And when he sets us free, he does not merely restore our lives: he transforms them, in ways we could never have imagined.