The Miserable, Mimicking, Magnificent, Non-Meritorious Me

The following is an entry to my Personal Spiritual Disciplines Class...

When someone is asked to give an account of their life I often wonder how that request can be answered in any brief but accurate summation. Perhaps I lack the skill, or the genius of brevity it requires. Needless to say this will be an attempt to do so.

As a child I was not a part of a very “religious” family. My dad was a divorcee, and in our denomination (Church of Christ) this was considered a matter of unrepentant sin – thus he was twice pressured out of attending church. My mother is a faithful and noble woman, and chose to stay home on Sundays with my dad rather than go alone. Suffice to say, some of my father’s reticence and hostility to the “church life” passed on to me. This found it’s apex in my late teens, particularly around the age of 17. I was a professed Agnostic, as much as I understood such to be, and I was a hostile one at that – particularly against Christianity. The years of struggle for significance and meaning had left me a young cynic, generally bored with most things my peers found entertaining. I was popular, athletic, and smarter than average. My junior year in high school began what I like to call “my great decline.” For a period of about nine months, I suffered loss upon loss, from grandparents having strokes and becoming shells of who they once were to tearing up my knee playing football – a tragedy to a male teen in Texas. Girlfriends and relationships went haywire, and the more a tried to fix things or cling to them the more I lost. I was subjected to what felt like absolute futility at the time. I certainly had no idea what was about to happen.
I met some girls from a nearby small town, Christian girls… cute Christian girls. In fact they were so surprisingly cute (one in particular) that I (along with a friend) decided to forego the usual “I hate Christians” mantra and investigate them further. I ended up pretending to be someone I wasn’t for about three months, until one sacredly devastating moment while sitting in an Algebra II class. I suddenly realized that I liked the person I was pretending to be more than the guy I really was. This dissonance between the facade I was pretending to be and the reality of who I was began a chain reaction. I was unsettled more than I had ever been. Conversations lost their intrigue, friends lost their appeal, and typical teen mischievousness lost its flavor. My best friend at the time, asked me to betray the girl I was dating (the cute Christian one) by lying to a friend of hers, and I refused. He, being the more charismatic of the two of us, persuaded most of my other “friends” to isolate me and choose his “side.” I became an outcast from my own circles, and my popularity waned. The Christian girl I had been dating, (and trying not to lie to) felt the Lord insisting her to distance herself from me soon thereafter. Idol after idol, affection after affection and love after love fell to ruin until every thing I would have previously used to identify my “life” was gone or against me. For about a week I sat around sulking, wondering what would end my misery and isolation. A couple of the girls from that neighboring small town invited me to go to an Youth Evangelism Conference, and I refused for about a week until finally relenting to get them to stop pestering me. Strangely enough, the trip had been booked completely, and they’d recently had a girl drop out at the last minute. I went in her pre-paid place.
I remember sitting there, watching a body of 25,000 some-odd people my age singing – with a joy I didn’t have and knew I couldn’t fake. At that moment, it was as if a brick had fallen off the rafters and hit me in the chest. I fell to the ground and sobbed – something not common for me at the time. Some speaker came out and gave some mildly amusing message, but I was still on the floor sobbing, causing somewhat of a scene I suppose.
The speaker gave an invitation, and I made my way forward before he’d finished giving it. A counselor found me, and began praying with me – finally telling me to open my heart and open my mouth and let it go. I closed my eyes, and asked two questions: “Are You there?” and, “Are You who they say You are?” To make a long situation short, I got a “Yes” on both questions, and then I really “let it go.” Years of sin, brokenness and need were confessed and immediately I felt a sense of presence and peace. It seemed as though the whole world had been painted in new colors. It was June 25th, 1998, and on that concrete floor the former me had finally died. I was acutely aware that I was instantly different - and I was not alone.
That road has not been easy, but it has absolutely been good. As it always does, time passed and I grew in the Lord. My senior year of High School came to a close, and new chapters began. He grew me to increasingly love Scripture, and as I entered into my freshman year of college, I started seeking opportunities to help with youth. I volunteered at my local church and received my first taste of how some ministries function. Though at the time I was hard to it, this is when I can first discern the Lord beginning to call me into the ministry.
I soon transferred to Midwestern State University in Wichita Falls, Texas and began pursuing a career in communication. The curriculum there was engaging, and I improved in my writing and speaking abilities. Despite this, I became increasingly dissatisfied with a profession that seemed a good fit for me. The reasons were not clear. It progressed to such a point that I finally acknowledged the possibility that God was calling me into vocational ministry. This was especially awkward because being a pastor-type never held much appeal for me prior to this. I began fasting and praying, trying to draw near God and discern His intentions. For two weeks this went on, and indeed the Lord made things clear. My primary passion, the pursuit of Christ, would become my primary vocation! At the realization of this, I was overjoyed. In addition, I felt the Lord leading me away from MSU in pursuit of this calling, thus I began seeking out other schools. I finally landed at Hardin-Simmons University, in Abilene. Were it not for my holding in the sovereignty of God, this is a choice I would often question in hindsight.

Hardin-Simmons was, to put things mildly, the most desperate and dark time of my life. It did not start out that way. When I first arrived as a junior, I had high hopes. To study Scripture intently and to grow in the knowledge of God for your class credit! What a privilege!

The reality became apparent very soon. For all of its promise, my time at the Logsdon School of Theology at HSU was filled with frustration and personal turmoil. In many classes, the study of theology seemed less of an objective look at Scripture and more of an agenda-filled indoctrination. It was not uncommon to run against Pelagianism, Open-Theism, and Universalism on a daily basis from the professors. The anti-Reformed rhetoric was intense as well. Hardin-Simmons is a BGCT-supported school, and many staff grumbled about the “conservative resurgence” every time the opportunity came. Despite all the vitriol, agenda, and pretense, there were some good things. The Lord developed me in a speaking capacity, providing several opportunities over the next few years to speak in a variety of places. I was active in Baptist Student Ministries and extremely active in the church I became a member of there. What is most dear to me about this period of time is that I learned to cling to, revere, and love the Word of God. Scripture became a life-blood for me in a way I never knew possible, largely because of the daily need to counter what was being taught in my classes. At HSU I saw the danger of "unity at any price" firsthand, along with the death it sows in its wake. I became a defender of the Church, and a polemicist as I saw many of the things being taught in places like Logsdon taking root in area churches. In truth I suppose I developed the heart of a reformer.

I finally graduated and took a year of hiatus from school in my hometown, where I did some substitute teaching. A bit over a year ago, a friend of mine asked me to visit Southern with him, and I was immediately aware that this was the next place for me. As I have spent my short time here, it has served as an immense example of His graciously giving me all things that I could not possibly merit. That is my story in brief thus far; from a miserable teen and mimicking girl-chaser to one who is personally acquainted with –and adopted into - the source of majesty and beauty, all the while being keenly aware that I deserve little of it.