My Testimony is the story of an inconsistent walk with a friend who never walked away
Some Christians have a mental time stamp of when they were saved. I don’t. My point of reference for time as a kid isn’t that great. We moved, a LOT. Prior to my adult life, I can’t recall anywhere that my family lived for more than 2-3 years.
Growing up, my dad was in the Air Force. I guess that was part of the reason for all the moving, but somewhere in my single-digit years, he left the air force. My mom worked full time and so did my dad and it seemed they were always chasing either the next highest paying job they could find, or the next opportunity to work in the ministry. I should mention that I basically grew up as a youth pastor’s kid.
I don’t think I appreciated growing up surrounded by the Church as a kid. I never really got close to kids my age, with a couple rare exceptions. My mentality was that there wasn’t really a point: as soon as I made friends and got attached to those friends, it was going to be time to move.
My brother and I sat down and tried to figure it out just how many different schools we went once. For him, since he moved out at 16, it was in the high teens (19 being our estimate). For me, with a who went to a different school each year of high school, that made it the low 20s (21, we think).
So a lot of my early childhood is a blur of moving trucks, sad goodbyes, and hopeful hellos. I can’t tell you the exact age I came to know Christ, but I know it was somewhere between 10 and 12 (I know that I wasn’t quite a teenager yet, so I usually go with 12). I can’t tell you the pastor’s name. I can tell you it was at a church called Liberty First Baptist Church in Midway, GA. And, oh man, I recall the message.
The Sermon That Brought Me to the Altar
We all make the walk for different reasons. Some of us do it because it’s what our family expects of us growing up around the Church. Some of us have deep remorse for things we’ve done and desperately seek the love of God through repentance. Some are simply afraid of the thought of Hell. Me; I was told I could have a permanent friend that would never leave my side.
The sermon came from Matthew 28:19-20. This is often called “The Great Commission.” In the NASB translation, it reads:
Go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to follow all that I have commanded you; and behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.
That verse changed my life. The message was that for those who were already Christians, who had already accepted Christ, we had a firm commandment of what we are supposed to do. We’re supposed to “go.” But for those who hadn’t, oh man, we got the biggest, best promise of all time directly from the Son of God, Himself: “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
It has taken me a lot of mistakes, mishaps, and outright rebellion to fully appreciate that promise from my savior to me. I was promised a friend who would never leave me, never forsake me, who would always pull me through my every trial, and who would be my strength anytime I was willing to step aside and let him take control. You can’t ask for a better friend than that. I wish I could say that I was as good of a friend to Him as He was to me. For a long time, I wasn’t.
The Gap Years
In relation to God (and I’ll post a blog that talks more about this at a later time), there is one big gap that all humans face. That’s the sin gap. When the first sin was committed, it created a rift between man and God that humans could never fully cross on their own (there’s a whole section of the bible that documents us trying and failing). Knowing this, God sent his son to be an ultimate sacrifice and the cross He was hung on acted as the wood to build a bridge back to God. The nails driven through His hands were the nails that held the bridge together. The precious blood he spilled, the stain that sealed the bridge ensuring that it would never split, break, or fail. Then, God sent the Holy Spirit to guide us across that bridge.
For some, myself included, there’s a second gap we face. The rift the cross covers is incredibly wide. Wider than we can imagine. Sometimes, we stop on the way across. We’ve accepted Christ as our savior and appreciate the gift of a relationship with God, but something happens to distract us from the journey of growing closer to Him.
Growing up surrounded by folks who attended service in a building, I made the mistake of defining the “church” as those people and those buildings. Some of those folks definitely were part of the Church, but others weren’t. I got to see the mix of both the righteous and the self-righteous. The ones who went to service to help them see and the ones who went to be seen.
I stopped going to “Baptist” buildings when I was around 17. There was a “showcase your talents for God” event and I wanted to be a part of it. I was encouraged to be a part of it, but I made the mistake of bringing an electric guitar. The lyrics I’d written that I felt honored God didn’t matter. I was told, with no lack of certainty, that as long as I was going to play an electric guitar, there was no room for me in worship in that building. I’ve barely played guitar since and even more rarely have I played anything publicly. It’s a scar that still blocks me to this day.
I tried a different denomination and attended a Methodist church with my girlfriend at the time. My parents cared mostly that I was attending somewhere and weren’t the types to tell me that it was “Baptist or Bust.” As relationships sometimes do, that one ended and I wasn’t comfortable being in the same building anymore. I didn’t want to go back to Baptist and I didn’t want to be the random barely-adult person no one knew either.
I moved out when I was around 19. I had two friends each beckoning me to their different states and I wasn’t sure which place to go. I asked God to provide a job and a place to live wherever he wanted to go. I had stepped away from buildings, but I still firmly believed in God. God opened the doors for me to go to Virginia where I met the first woman I’d ever felt like God undoubtedly wanted me to marry. Her family attended a Presbyterian church. I don’t remember the pastor’s name, but I remember liking him.
The sermon that stuck out was that we were supposed to have our own relationships with God and if something we read in the Bible clashed with what was being taught, we were supposed to come to him in private and ask about it. I remember him saying something along the lines of “anyone can benefit from someone who is actively pursuing Christ, no matter how long or short the other’s walk has been compared to yours.”
When her family moved to New Hampshire to start a bed and breakfast, the door did not open for me to follow. I was hurt and Virginia felt strange. I left and joined a friend in Mississippi. The first church I tried there was Baptist and it quickly reminded me why that denomination made me uncomfortable. I had an NIV Bible at the time and I may as well have brought a beginner’s guide to devil worship into their church. They told me that only the original King James was the word of God that could be trusted, but none of them had studied Greek or Hebrew. I didn’t go back.
There were a few others I tried over the years, but none that stuck, none that felt like I was supposed to be there or felt like home. The one that came closest was in Greenville, SC and was called “Warehouse Church.” I knew a member of the worship team from where I worked and we’d become good friends. When I was asked to give it a go, I did.
After a trip to China to teach English for a year (that was its own adventure and not really part of this testimony), I came back married with a child on the way. I tried to go back to Warehouse, which had changed locations slightly and my friend was no longer part of the worship team. The very first sermon when I got back was how races weren’t supposed to intermingle. I did not go back (and, for the record, that’s not the purpose of Samson and Delilah; the purpose is to teach us not to bind ourselves in marriage to people of a different faith with different core values. Samson and Delilah were technically the same “race” as we’d define it today.)
I stepped away hard and while I still believed, I didn’t pursue my relationship with God again for a very long time. It wasn’t God that I felt had let me down, it was what I considered to be “the Church.” I wasn’t my best self for a while. This resulted in my first divorce and further distance from the walk I was meant to have. But, God had plans.
My Second Marriage
With any luck, as you’re reading this, I’m still in my second marriage and my wife and I have continued our track record of working through things and strengthening our bond as a result. I’m not a perfect spouse, but I try really hard to be the best one I can be. That’s part of what we’re called to do as husbands.
During our first year of marriage a whirlwind of events happened: my car that was a year away from being paid off was backed over by a semi truck, my wife was diagnosed with stage 4 Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and our house had the roof ripped off by Hurricane Michael. So in year one, we got to struggle through a major financial decision (what to do about the car), a major illness, and homelessness. But man, did God ever show me love in that year.
When Michael hit, I prayed harder than I had ever prayed in my life. At the time, we were staying in company-provided housing. The company’s production facility was up front and it had a small 3-bedroom apartment (more like 2.5 bedrooms, but that’s semantics) attached. My employer was (and at the time of this writing is) an atheist. The front of the building where all of the production area was had the windows blow out, the roof ripped off, and things tossed around everywhere. The back of the building where the apartment was had a TV fall of the wall. That should have been enough, but God did even more.
We stayed with my wife’s parents for a short time and they were members at a church in Lakeland, FL called Bethel Baptist Church. I can’t say that I enjoyed every sermon while we attended, but what I can say is that when God called them to give and show up for someone in need, they did not hesitate. Our kids didn’t have to go without that Christmas. My employer allowed me to work remote since they had another production office they could temporarily use. My wife got access to some of the best treatment available in FL and beat cancer. I hadn’t been in a church building in years at this point but God didn’t care. His child, His friend, was in need and He was going to make sure those needs were met.
When my wife and moved back to the Florida panhandle (custody issues with her former spouse forced the issue), I, once again, failed to be a good friend. I didn’t find us a church. We tried a couple, to be fair, but neither really felt like home and one in particular made us feel incredibly unwelcome. After that visit, my wife and I stopped looking.
Moving to Alabama
There were a lot of catalysts that brought me to Alabama, some of which I would not be comfortable discussing in a public forum. But God opened a way for my family and I to move and I took the opportunity. I still didn’t pursue a church like I should have. I justified it by listening to devotions on my 40-minute drive to work and having long conversations with God.
A couple years after relocating, I got a distinct message back from God: “You need a community.” It was clear and undeniably from Him. I said okay, but then didn’t pursue the idea with much vigor. I prayed that God would send me to the place He’d have me go. I stalled. A couple months later, I had a mini-stroke. That was enough for me to realize God was right (which I should have realized sooner, because, you know, He’s God).
The next weekend, I went to check out a particularly large church, a place where I felt I could easily blend in. That didn’t fit with God’s plan. On my way out, my son sent me a text, “Daddy, can you come back and give me a hug before you go?” I’m a sucker for hugs from my kid and so I turned around. This, of course, meant that I was going to miss the service I’d planned to attend and I found myself at the end of my dirt road Googling service times for different churches.
While it wasn’t my place, I had a list of “wants” in whatever community God wanted me to join. I wanted a place my kids could all go and make new friends and enjoy being there. I wanted a place where I could grow my faith and renew walking closely with my best friend. Apparently, that’s what God wanted for me too.
When I showed up, it was a “youth takeover day” where there was a member of the youth or young adults performing every aspect of the service from worship to the sermon. I saw a place for my kids. Bullseye, God (does He ever hit anything less?). I went back the next Sunday and listened to the preacher for the first time. His approach was educational, taking time to explain not just “what” the Bible was communicating but breaking down “how” it was saying that (even throwing in some etymology from time to time). It would be a few more Sundays and Wednesdays before I confirmed it by joining as a member, but I’d found home.
Surrender
I had joined a local church community, but I had no idea how I was going to serve. I knew I was growing. Some of the messages and bible studies reminded me of things God had taught me long ago while others opened my mind to new insights I hadn’t seen. I knew I was growing; but I didn’t know how I was going to serve. So, I prayed. I told God that whatever door he opened, I would walk through without hesitation or second guessing.
I prayed daily about how God wanted me to serve for about two weeks before I walked in on a Wednesday and was told, “Hey, Othy, we’re going to Mexico to build a house, you’re coming, right?” That was the door, that was what he wanted me to walk through.
I don’t have extremely talented hands. I can type about 80 words per minute, but other than that, they don’t do much. I’m remarkably mediocre on guitar. I’m a slightly above average griller. I guess I’ve been told I give great hugs, but that’s more in the arms. I don’t have extremely talented hands and knew that I would have no idea what I was doing while in Mexico, but God always knows. It was there that everything came full circle for me with a single word. The word that is at the very beginning of the scripture that changed my life forever: “Go.”
In Closing
After that mission trip, God put it on my heart to create this blog and talk about my faith. I’ve been resistant, but then, God reminded me that He has a purpose for everything He asks of us.
My walk with God has been learning what faith really is; and what pursuing a relationship with God really looks like. See, faith isn’t just knowing or accepting what God can do. It’s trusting God enough to move out of the way and let Him work through you. It won’t always be big things, but God will consistently use you to grow His kingdom if you let Him. It’s trusting not only that “God can” but standing firmly in the belief that “God will.” That has been probably the hardest transition for me and it’s one I’m still working on.
Your walk with God is never going to be perfect. That’s what His Grace is for. But you should be endeavoring daily to know Him a little bit better. Isn’t that what good friends do? They want to know everything about the other and want to lift up each other? I think, maybe, that’s why God asked me to do this. So I could publicly, unabashedly, say to anyone who reads this: I love God, He has been a true and unwavering friend, and He has kept every promise He’s ever made to me, even when I gave Him every excuse not to.
If you haven’t met him, all you have to do is call out to him. God goes where he is welcomed and invited. If you need a guided prayer, try this:
God, I acknowledge that sin has created a gap between us, but I want to know You and I want to know what it’s like to have a friend like You in my life. I know you sent your son, Jesus, to be the ultimate sacrifice, to build a bridge to close the gap sin created. I want to cross that bridge and build a relationship with You. I openly surrender all that I am, so I can be filled with Your love and Your purpose. In the name of Your son, Jesus, I pray. Amen.
If you’re like me and have fallen into a second gap, I encourage you to call out to God and tell Him that you don’t want to be in that gap. The guided prayer isn’t much different:
God, somewhere along the way, I stopped pursuing You, I stopped chasing after You, I stopped trying. I know that was wrong and I’m sorry. I became too focused on me and lost sight of You. I come now to ask you to reignite the passion I lost and to help me pursue You with all that I am so that I can be used by You. Thank You for never wavering, even when I have. In the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.
…I am with you always, to the end of the age