My 1 Story

I was born to a 15 year old girl in 1964. As she was too young to take care of me I lived with my grandmother until I was 4 years old when she was hospitalized for the long term effects of diabetes and eventually died. I went to live with one of my biological mother’s sisters along with her husband and two children (both older). I was never adopted officially because my dad didn’t feel like my mom let him be a father to me – she was probably protecting me because of my rough past. Subsequently, I grew up rather independent and didn’t open myself up – though I was often loud and disruptive. I guess I was afraid to get too close to people – fearing they might hurt me like I was hurt by my grandmother leaving me.

While I was in high school my mom was saved and began praying for me and sharing the gospel with me. As a typical teenager, I resisted and went about my way. Our school had chapel once a week and I enjoyed it, but didn’t fully understand why, I mean, I believed in God, that was all that mattered – right? I worked full time through most of my high school years, played sports and spent a lot of time with my sweetheart – not really paying much attention to my family. Still, I felt the tug, like a knot in my stomach whenever my mom would speak to me about salvation. I couldn’t trust anyone, I even feared that Jesus would let me down, hurt me. I remember my mom telling my girlfriend (now my wife) that I wouldn’t let anyone get close to me, and thinking that she was crazy. Truth be known, she was right. Still she (my girlfriend) stood by me.

College; I continued to work almost full time, played on the soccer team and was active in my fraternity. Through all of the partying, hard work and sports I actually managed to make my way through college, never really reaching my potential, just getting by. My senior year I even got involved a bit with the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. I didn’t go to church in college, or afterwards for that matter.

Right out of college we were married and settled down to middle class life. We attended church from time to time with friends or family, but never really hooked up anywhere. It wasn’t until after our daughter was born that the knot in my stomach came back again. It was while she was in preschool at a local Baptist church that we went to church a couple of times on Sundays. On more than one occasion I was burning up inside to answer the “alter call”, only to look at my wife and wonder what she would think, would she reject me, would she leave me like my grandmother did. So, I sat there and did nothing. You see, we didn’t communicate very well, I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to me to really open up to them – even my wife.

Fast forward a number of years, our daughter was in fifth grade and we were invited by one of our daughter’s friends mother to come to this “new church” that her husband was part of founding (Wendi and Dwight Irvin). It was Mother’s Day that weekend and my wife said she would like to check it out – so we did. Inside I was feeling different, excited, and anxious, like this was something good. We went (a little overdressed I guess – I mean, the pastor was wearing flip flops!) and enjoyed ourselves. The next Sunday, I was up early, making breakfast and getting cleaned up when my wife asked me what I was doing, I told her “getting ready for church”. She gave me a perplexed look and started to get ready as well.

Over the next year we attended church regularly, I joined a small group and dug deeper into the Word and felt a change coming over me. About a year to the date that we had begun attending Bridgepoint I gave my life to Christ. The knot was gone, now I just had to tell my wife. I let her know by telling her I was meeting with Dwight to talk about baptism. She was a bit shocked, asked why I hadn’t talked to her about it, I just told her “it was a personal decision”, which she understood. My life was beginning to change, I was becoming more open about my inner feelings, and I was feeling like I might be finally able to trust people.

Two things happened at my baptism that will forever be burned into my memory. First off, my mother, who sat at the edge of the pool in her wheelchair while I was baptized – gave me a pewter dangle of a cross for my keychain. She said she had bought three of them when she first was saved, one for each of her children – this was the last one she had been holding on to. As I write this I just picked up my keys and looked at it again. Sorry it took so long, Mom. The second thing was totally unexpected. I was standing there, dripping wet, looking out over the bay when my wife, out of the blue, came up from behind me and gave me a rib cracking bear hug. No words, she just grabbed me and held on. For the first time in my life with her I think she sensed that things really were going to get better, I was really going to be the man she deserved.

Long story, short – in the months following my salvation both my wife and daughter followed me in accepting Christ. They were baptized together – first time in my entire life that I was at a loss for words. I continue to grow in Christ every day, still exercising demons from my past and battling the knucklehead that I am. But I’m walking with Christ, hand in hand with my spouse and child and with the family of believers that we share our lives with.

I finally let someone get close to me…Thank you, Jesus for getting close to me.

By the way, we haven’t missed a Sunday at Church when were in town since that first one, it’s the least we can do to show our thanks for all He has done for us!

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