I "found" IC3 at about 2 am when as I tired, cold, duo/pro racer in Moab I went looking for the biggest, warmest fire I could find. The temperature that year at Moab was somewhere between 15-20 degrees and my teammate had let our meager fire go out. Having only about an hour before I had to head back out to race I had to get warmed up quick. I stumbled across the fire of the International Christian Cycling Club.
I had grown up as a Christian, but my walk had taken me far from my "roots". As the lyrics of the song "Still Calls me Son" say I had "drug his name through Godless places and I've known shame that no child of his should know. I've seen pain on broken faces, beyond all thought of hope, I was just too far from home".  In a feeling of unworthiness I nearly walked away from the IC3 tent. Then an IC3 member came out to welcome me. They welcomed me in like a long lost friend, didn't preach, didn't question, they welcomed. 
It planted the seed that has me asking you to by and visit, because "After all I've done, he still calls me son". He'll do the same for you.