This story was originally published by the WND News Center.
Nicole Shanahan, RFK Jr.'s running mate before he ended his own presidential bid in 2024 and endorsed now-President Donald Trump, has taken social media by storm, posting online that, "Today, I am a Jew for Jesus."
The prominent tech billionaire released her testimony of becoming of Christian and being baptized.
Sometimes life has this way of turning down the volume on all the chaos, and in that stillness, we get a clear glimpse of what truly matters. One of these moments occurred in my life last month.
It was a quiet January night, just a few days before the presidential inauguration. I was lying in bed in the middle of the night with my six-year-old, Echo, gently calming her after a night terror had awakened her. As she finally drifted back to sleep, I felt a heaviness settle over me, thick and suffocating, like the air before a storm. It pressed against my chest, not like a weight, but like a presence—something unseen yet undeniable. At that moment, I could only think to bow my head, close my eyes, and offer a silent prayer to God.
The Valley of the Shadow of Death
In September 2024, our family suffered a heart-wrenching loss—one I'm not prepared to speak about in detail yet, but I will when the time is right. Not long after the tragedy, I met an incredible woman named Diane, a bishop, who had prayed with me after my loss and was the first to ask me if I wanted to be saved. (I'm still getting the hang of the lingo. Some say pastor, preacher, or minister, depending on the church—but I know Diane as a deeply faithful soul who helped guide me closer to Jesus. For that, I am forever grateful.)
I first crossed paths with Diane through my masseuse, Ade—pronounced "Ah-day"—a Mayan-Mexican immigrant I got to know after my divorce from Echo's dad. Ade is a kind, quiet Christian who would whisper prayers for me while he worked without ever letting on. It wasn't until months later that he told me about it. To this day, he remembers the first time we met and how worried he was about me. Coming out of my previous marriage, I was thin, fragile, totally worn down, and in anguish.
One day, it finally hit me that his prayers were doing more to heal me than the deep tissue massage ever could. As we were wrapping a session, I asked, "Hey Ade, do you know anyone who can help keep 'bad energy' away from people? Basically an exorcism." Ade looked at me, paused, and simply said, "Yes—when you are ready."
In the weeks following our family's loss, I saw Ade again, and as he had so many times before, he prayed for me. But this time was different. I bowed my head, let the tears fall, and begged God's help. It was then that Ade connected me with Diane.
The Water and the Blood
That next morning in January, I called Diane, who had texted me earlier, "I want to talk with you about getting baptized." This felt like the final confirmation of something I already knew: It was time. I called her then, and we decided that on Sunday (the day before President Trump's inauguration), she and her husband, Peter, would baptize me in my backyard.
As she pulled into my driveway, I was struck by her presence. Like me, she is a woman of mixed race from Oakland. With piercing blue eyes and curly black hair, she is a grandmother in her 70s with a quiet strength about her. I soon learned she was no ordinary chaplain but, in fact, the lead chaplain at Santa Rita Jail, the fifth-largest jail in the country.
During that meeting, Diane opened her worn and well-loved Bible—filled with highlights, underlines, and Post-it tabs. A book that had been studied and prayed over thousands of times. She moved through it with laser precision, guiding me to verse after verse as I struggled to read through my blurry, tear-filled eyes. The pain of life sometimes can consume your entire reality, and the injustice, the loss, and the extreme nature of it all can feel genuinely unbearable. The weight of the world, perpetuated by greed, lies, and indifference, can often feel hopeless. Diane looked at me and said with absolute certainty that Jesus could save me—that His blood is able to wash away sins and defeat the darkness that haunts the innocent.
I think it took the pain of that moment, the desperate need for hope, and the unwavering intensity in Diane's eyes to finally break through the last, most stubborn skeptic in me. When Diane asked if I wanted to be baptized, I didn't hesitate—I said yes.
The Whole Armor of God
