The answer

I wanted to trace the message to its source, so I came up with a plan—one that felt right at the time.

A plan in the shower

The evening after I had asked Jesus to help me, I found myself thinking about the song and the book again. While taking a shower, I realised that I had focused only on the big yellow sun on the cover. I began to wonder whether Naomi’s book was more than just a reminder of the song—whether it might actually help me discover where that “It’s all right” message had come from.

Still in the shower, I came up with the following plan: I would find out which company had published the book and then search online to learn more about the publisher. If the publisher turned out to be Christian, I would take that as confirmation that the message had come from Jesus. If the publisher had a New Age, Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist, Muslim or any other background, that too might lead me to the source of the message. I hoped I would not have to change course, but decided to accept whatever the outcome would be.

In hindsight, it was a rather nonsensical plan, but at the time it felt like the right approach.

Keen to find the answer to my question, I quickly finished showering, went to the study, grabbed the book and opened it at the last page. There I read: “Rigby, a registered trademark of Reed Educational and Professional Publishing Ltd.” Right underneath it also said: “Origination in Singapore,” which surprised me, given that we had just made the country our new home.

I opened Google and searched for Rigby. That led to Reed, and from there to another large publishing house—but nothing pointed to any particular belief or religion. I kept searching, but found nothing.

Almost ready to give up, I went back and typed in “Rigby” once more. This time, instead of focusing on publishers, I simply browsed the results. A link caught my eye: “St John Rigby College.” Curious, I searched for “St John Rigby,” and within seconds landed on a Wikipedia page:

“Saint John Rigby (ca. 1570 – June 21, 1600) was an English Roman Catholic.”

I paused.

John Rigby had been executed in England during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I because he refused to accept the Church of England. A devout Catholic, he was given the chance to recant—twice—but refused, and was subsequently executed by hanging. He was later recognised by the Catholic Church as a Christian martyr.

The discovery

There it was: a reference to Christianity. I hadn’t expected it to be so clear and specific. Could it really have been Jesus who had sent us the “It’s all right” message?

The moment I accepted that Jesus was the messenger, it suddenly felt clear what I was supposed to do: get to know him. It felt like I had been sent on a mission.

Almost immediately, doubts surfaced. Was Jesus real? Could I believe he was? What I saw in Rigby was a kind of belief that someone was willing to die for. Could I believe like that? We’d come frighteningly close to death with Naomi, and it was terrifying. So what made John Rigby so steadfast in his faith? What did he know that I didn't? Why was he willing to give up his life for what he believed in? And what did he actually believe in?

Then that sense of mission returned, pushing the doubts aside. Coupled with a growing sense of urgency, I set out to get to know Jesus.

The next day, sitting in the study browsing the Internet for information about Jesus, Paulina walked in, looked at my screen and asked what I was doing. "I'm reading up on Jesus," I replied. "Well don't," she said: "Not on this site." Surprised, I asked what the issue was. She told me there were different Christian denominations, all of which centred around Jesus but believed in different things. The Catholic Church, she said, was the oldest and the one she felt most comfortable with.

After a quick search online, I read that there were thousands of Christian denominations, but only one Catholic Church, which is often described as the original universal and pre-denominational Church established by Jesus Christ himself. I was impressed. Not only had I been directed towards Christianity, it even seemed I was being shown where to begin. Paulina then handed me an English language Bible she had bought several years ago, and I happily received it.

So there I was, the Bible lying on my desk in front of me. Quite a book, I thought. Now where to begin?

Not wanting to start at page one, I picked it up and opened it at random. My eyes fell on the opening lines of the Gospel of Mark. In its very first sentence, it revealed who Jesus was: the Son of God.

That was where I began.

It took only a few pages before I realised I couldn’t stop reading. If I’d had the time, I would have read it in one sitting. Whenever I had a moment, I returned to it—reading slowly, not wanting to miss anything. I found myself drawn into it like no other book I had ever read.

It was an unusual and exciting experience. It felt as though I were there, part of the different scenes, listening to what people said and watching their reactions to Jesus. Many were amazed by what he said and by the miracles he performed. Some passages were familiar to me, but never before had they made such an impact. This time, it was as if something inside me had been switched on, allowing the Gospel to truly reach me and enabling me to absorb everything I read.

The best parts were those where Jesus spoke. Listening to him I loved most. The way he talked greatly impressed me. He had compassion for those in need; he was sharp and wise, composed, and always knew exactly how to respond to the cunning questions of those trying to trap him. He knew people’s thoughts, looked straight into their hearts, was keenly aware of what lay ahead, and spoke with undeniable authority. I quickly developed a great fondness for him.

When I was not reading the Gospel, I was thinking about it. Much like how the Here Comes the Sun tune had stayed with me, the Gospel followed me like a shadow. I remembered a conversation I’d had many years earlier, when someone asked who I’d meet if I could travel through time. If someone were to present me with a time machine today, I would go back to meet Jesus without hesitation.

I felt excitement, but that was not the main emotion the Gospel stirred in me. Beneath it was a deep sense of peace. A peace that drove out the anxiety caused by our doubts about Naomi’s recovery and the ongoing strain of caring for her.

Each time I read, I felt calm. It was the same calmness I had felt before, but now without the unease. No longer questioning it, I allowed it to settle over me. When immersed in the Gospel, it felt as though I could sense Jesus’ presence—calm, loving, and safe.

Over time, it became clear to me that clairvoyance, Reiki, BodyTalk and the other New Age practices had each filled a void, yet left me empty. They offered no peace. In fact, they increased my anxiety. Through the Gospel, I began to see that God is not an impersonal source of energy, nor some anonymous higher being, and certainly not a God who must be appeased or kept at bay.

The God I encountered in Mark’s Gospel was revealed through Jesus. Not by suddenly descending from heaven, but by being born of a woman—becoming a vulnerable baby, growing up, and experiencing life as we do. This was not a God who dwelled far away and out of reach. In Jesus, God lived among us so that we could know him.

I came to see that God knows exactly what it means to be human. When Mark described Jesus experiencing deep distress before being handed over to be crucified, I knew he understood the anxiety and fear we live with. It became clear to me that God wanted to be with us—to take care of us and look after us—if only we allowed him to do so. Even though we were still in the midst of the storm, this gave me peace.

But I still had many questions. In fact, after reading the Gospel of Mark, I had more than before. I believed what I had read, and I believed that Jesus was real—but I didn’t yet know what to do next.

How could I reach out to him? How could I connect?

I needed answers.

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Confirmation →