This is me.

I'm Adam Hinestrosa, and this is my story — told the way it actually unfolded.

I was born in Venezuela, but I've lived most of my life in North Carolina, raised in a military household. Adventism is the faith I grew up in, though I couldn't have told you what the Seventh-day Adventist Church even was until I was around eight, and I didn't really begin to understand it until I was about eleven. My family was the kind of family most people would politely call strange — health freaks, health nuts, whatever you want to call us. We kept a cabinet the size of a pantry stocked with vitamins, minerals, powders, and herbs, and holistic medicine and fitness was simply part of the air we breathed.

For all of that, I never quite fit in anywhere — but it wasn't really the strange family stuff that set me apart. It was more that I slowly realized most people's families were nothing like mine, in a way that's genuinely hard to put into words without saying far too much. And by the time I was eleven or twelve, that feeling only sharpened, as I started learning what the Bible actually teaches compared to what most churches actually teach.

Like I said, I was raised Adventist. People may picture Adventists as some strange little cult, but when you actually dig into what Adventists believe — down to the microscopic level — you start to find it surprisingly hard to go back to what most churches teach. Adventism has a careful, methodical way of reading prophecy in Scripture that most denominations simply never touch. And not only prophecy, but the plainer questions too: what actually happens when you die, whether hell really burns for eternity, or something as basic as keeping the Sabbath. Put the Bible to the test against itself — comparing scripture with scripture — and it all lines up. After enough of those seminars and presentations on prophecy and on the misconceptions modern churches carry, I knew I'd never fully fit in with the world — and honestly, not even with most Christians.

Music was in the house from the start. I grew up on '70s and '80s rock and pop, and in my very early years — around 2004 — I'd hear my older brother playing a lot of rap, though it didn't grab me then. That came later. It wasn't until 2009 that hip-hop really found me, and with it the writer in me first woke up — pulled in especially by intricate, technical rap, alongside the more straightforward kind. I began writing raps in middle school around 2011, and by tenth grade I was taking it seriously — obsessively, even, scribbling lyrics in the middle of class. I won't dress up what came alongside it: I wasted a good portion of high school. All the time I could have spent building the music I said I wanted, I poured instead into smoking weed and cigarettes from morning to night, handing nearly every dollar from my first job straight back to the habit. The craft I'd eventually be proud of — actually making beats and songs — didn't truly begin until about half a decade after the music first grabbed me.

Fitness took even longer to take root. I first got into bodybuilding around 2011 and loved it — was honestly obsessed with it, watching tons of bodybuilding content for the better part of a year — then drifted away after about a year and a half. I found it again in 2016, but that stretch lasted only about a year too. It wasn't until 2019 that it finally became permanent — and in the seven years since, I've stayed genuinely consistent with my training, my fitness, and my health overall. It's one of the few disciplines I've never let slip again.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, in 2017, I went deep into the materials of people like Bob Proctor and Earl Nightingale, and many others from that same era. The self-improvement world they come from doesn't always leave room for Jesus Christ, and I don't follow it blindly — but the mind science they teach is real. Everything genuinely does operate on frequency and vibration, and learning that reshaped how I understood my own thoughts.

Underneath all of it, I'd always sensed that something about the world was off — that what we'd been handed, from the shape of the cosmos to the God preached from the pulpit, was nowhere near the truth. I didn't sit down and study the Bible for myself in earnest until about 2022, and it wasn't until 2023 that I arrived at what I now hold with my whole heart: the doctrine of the one true God, the Father, and His only-begotten Son.

I came to see that neither the globe nor the trinity is real. There is one true God — the Father — and one only-begotten Son, Who was literally begotten of the Father, not created; and the Holy Spirit is their Spirit, living in the believer. When I was starting out, lecture series like Total Onslaught from Walter Veith and seminar series like Millennium of Prophecy from Doug Batchelor at Amazing Facts were a real doorway for me. They're excellent on-ramps — but the ministries behind them are trinitarian, and that matters. You can hold ninety-nine percent of the truth and still miss the one percent that counts the most: who the God we worship truly is, and who His literal begotten Son is.

In truth, none of this was brand new to me. I'd first been shown Total Onslaught back when I was eleven or twelve — my father had bought the whole DVD lecture sets, from Amazing Facts and from Walter Veith and Amazing Discoveries, so all of it was printed into my mind from very young. While most kids were heading into sixth grade just starting to hear about evolution and the Big Bang, I was already saturated with Freemasons and Jesuits and Luciferians, with end-time events and detailed Bible prophecy. But for all that early saturation, I didn't come back to study it on my own — truly by myself and for myself — until over a decade later.

It was a couple of years ago — late 2023, maybe the very start of 2024 — that something clicked: what the Bible says about us and what mind science and neuroscience say about us line up remarkably well. Both are pointing at the same thing in different words — that we create our own personal reality by the thoughts we think, over and over, day after day. I'd already absorbed this at a surface level — from the materials of Bob Proctor and others, and from verses I grew up hearing, like “as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he” (Proverbs 23:7). What I hadn't realized was that there is now real, verifiable neuroscience behind it — the kind of thing you see in the work of Joe Dispenza and a handful of others.

It convinced me of something I now hold with everything in me: we really are made in the image of God, and we have almost no idea of the creative and self-programming ability we carry — the power to reshape our own reality. Finances, fitness, relationships, character, even physical traits — and not only the obvious ones, but the very things people are certain they have no say over.

These days my time goes to making music, long walks, the gym, and building out my websites — including helping my father run his digital marketing business. People tend to assume I'm some serious, holier-than-thou person from what I post online. The truth is nearly the opposite: most of my waking life is spent laughing, cracking jokes, and mentally rewriting songs with the dumbest replacement lyrics I can come up with. I'm about the most unserious person you'll ever meet — and yet I can flip into discipline mode the instant I need to and handle whatever has to be done. Both of those are me.

So — that's the story. I'm Adam Hinestrosa, and welcome to my website. Have a listen to my music online, and explore the Adam Hinestrosa Biblical Research Institute I've built and am glad to finally share with the world.