From Another Life Is Possible, this week’s featured book. Explore more stories on the book’s website.

Ironically, it was out of a place of financial success that I was able to see through the American Dream. After dropping out of college I had built up a successful graphic design and advertising agency near Washington, DC. I had everything I wanted; I could go anywhere; I could buy anything I desired. I was pulling down a mid-six-figure salary. Although I had worked very hard to get there, deep down, I knew I did not deserve what I was getting in the way of compensation. I knew of countless people of color or people with other economic disadvantages who worked harder than I did and were not making it. That basic inequity made me feel very uncomfortable. And along with that I felt so empty inside.

Fifteen years earlier, I had experienced what I think you could call a conversion. I was working alone in a darkroom (where we used to develop photos – a great place to think), and I remember standing there and being overwhelmed with all the deceitful, selfish, evil things I had done in my short life. Among other things, I had no relationship to speak of with my parents, I had had an affair with a married man, and my own marriage had lasted all of eight months. One by one, I saw the faces of the people whose lives I had ruined in my drive to get ahead.

It was frightening, but even worse was the realization that I was not able to change myself. I had tried before, and here I was once again, having left even more trampled people in my wake. What was it going to take? I did not want to have a rerun of this revelation on my deathbed with fifty more years of broken relationships added on top.

Desperate, I begged for help from a God I wasn’t even sure was real. In answer, two alternatives became clear: continue calling my own shots and deal with the messy consequences as best I could, or let go of everything and allow God to take control of my life. The latter was clearly the less glamorous choice, but I went for it.

At this time I started the design business with a fellow Quaker. Together, we worked hard for fifteen years and built up a strong business. But, in the process, our dependence on God was slowly replaced by self-reliance, business acumen, and a desire to meet ever higher financial goals. It was another moment of realization that forced me once again to choose ­between having a wealthy but stressful life or slowing down and regaining a life of faith and joy in God. Choosing God would mean leaving the agency I had built up and co-owned.

Before leaving, I had to settle affairs with my business partner. This was complicated: he and his wife had once been my close friends and spiritual mentors, but over time we had grown apart.

It took multiple offers and counteroffers to come to a final agreement, but the result was that I ended up paying $50,000 in taxes which my partner should have paid. When I realized how he and his accountant had conspired to crush me, I was so consumed by anger that I couldn’t sleep for days. Sure, it was “only money,” and I didn’t need it at the time. But it was a lot of money, and it was mine. Obviously, the IRS could not be put off, though, so I wrote the check and hoped in a God of vengeance.

A journey to forgiveness took me two years, and was part of a deeper quest for renewal: the search for what Tolstoy calls the “true life.” Along the way, I stumbled on new treasures: vulnerability, humility, trust, and joy.

In the end, the renewal I was looking for cost everything. I sold my antique furniture, my vacation home on Nantucket, and after that, my townhouse in McLean, Virginia. I dropped my career. My whole life took a new turn as I tried to discern how best to follow God. But with every step, I was amazed to realize how quickly the deepest yearnings of my heart were filled. I felt like I was given a clean slate to start life completely over. Beyond that, the experience led me – further than I had ever been led before – out of myself and to community with others at the Bruderhof, where I am still learning what it means to truly share your life – practically, and in the spirit – with brothers and sisters. This is what God created us to do.

In my former life, I used money as a way of building security against imagined catastrophes, for a comfortable retirement, and to live a good life in beautiful surroundings. When I was a guest of the Bruderhof wrestling with whether or not I was “called” to this way of life, I woke many nights at 3 a.m. with the “icy fingers of fear” gripping my heart and wondering, “What if the community collapses? What about retirement and insurance?” These were real fears that I had spent all my adult years working to address. The irony is that once I joined the community, I never even thought about those fears again. They completely dissipated.

Life doesn’t stop. No community is perfect. As life-changing as that morning in the darkroom was, I’ve come to realize that if I am going to live authentically, I must continually go through new cycles of repentance and renewal – that there must always be new beginnings. I look forward to them, because that’s when I’m most alive.