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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My 1 Story involves a family that my wife and I met 1 day in the parking lot of a local McDonalds.
As we pulled in my wife noticed a man under the hood of his van, looking as if he needed help. She said to me, “You should go see if he needs help.” And of course, I sighed and hesitated to get out of our van. Finally as I approached the man I noticed four people inside their van, his wife and three children. I asked him if he needed a jump start. Confused he said, “I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” And one thing I can tell you about myself is, I am not a mechanic, I know very little about motors if anything at all. So I got my cables and said, “Let’s try to jump start it.” No luck. It would start but then die.
Then out of my mouth came,” It must be the alternator.” What!? How did I know that was the problem? I didn’t. Then I knew it must be God, not me, so I just followed God like I knew what I was doing.
By this time my wife had introduced herself and was telling his wife and children about the church we were attending at that time. Then God says, through me, “I have my tools in my van (which was also not normal, these are tools that I never use) let me get them and I will remove the alternator so we can have it checked out.” What!? I remember my wife even looking stunned, asking me as I got my tools, “Do you really know what your doing?” My reply being, “Uhh.., I guess so.”
After about ten to fifteen minutes I had this mans alternator in my hands. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t believe what I was doing. Then God said through me, again, “Ok, let’s go to the parts store to have it checked.” You can have alternators checked? What!? How did I know this? When we got there I walked in, and with all the confidence God had put in me I said, “I need to have this checked.” The man behind the counter said, “No problem.” Taking it into the back room, he soon returned saying it was dead and needed to be replaced. He offered a new one for $ 140 dollars or a rebuilt one for $90 dollars. My mouth dropped open and about that time, the man I was helping (whose name was Greg) said, “I don’t have that kind of money.” And at the same time I could hear God telling me, “Buy it for him .Buy it for him.” So, out of my mouth came, “That’s o.k. I got it.” What!? I knew then for sure it was, most certainly, without a doubt, God doing this because that was just not like me. I had always been on a tight budget. I would help people from time to time but $90 dollars was part of our rent money. But I was also smart enough to know God must have a bigger plan.
When we got back from the parts store, my wife, his wife and children were all eating ice cream and acting like old friends. I proceeded to act as the mechanic, putting the alternator back on without any knowledge, then we jumped it again and the van cranked right up and stayed running. Praise God!! I knew it had to be God. So we all gathered together to pray and thank God and give him all the praise.
The next week Greg and his whole family came to church and committed their life to Jesus. At that time I thought, ok God, I now see why you used me and gave me this knowledge because you wanted to make this connection to Greg and his family through my wife and I. Wow. God is a good God. It all still amazes me.
End of story, right. Not quite.
Greg and his family kept coming to church off and on until about a year after we met them, Greg became ill due to diabetes complications and quickly passed and went home to be with the Lord. What!? It all happened so fast and then it all became so clear to me that God really is the Alpha and Omega. He already knew what he had planned for Greg before my wife and I ever met him and his family.
I want to thank you Father God for using my wife and I, for giving us the knowledge to help you help Greg. In Jesus name, Amen
We still remain friends with Greg’s wife and kids to this day.
I just want to end this story by saying,” Please never pass up that chance God is placing in front of you. This might be your 1 day to be his mechanic.”

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My1Story is proof that God has a plan for us and it is “HIS” timing and not ours. Even though I went to church as a young boy with the family, I never really could grasp the concept that Jesus, a person that lived thousands of years ago could know me or care for me. I learned at a very young age of 5 that it was much less painful on my body to lie to my parents than to tell the truth. I never felt very good about myself and lacked self esteem through most of my life. Most of my problems I blamed on my three older sisters for many years because of how they treated me and my Mother never knew what was going on behind her back. I always felt alone and that nobody really cared about me or even loved me. As typical my Father worked a lot, but there were a few times he would take me to work with him on Saturdays which became treasured moments. When I was to start High School, my parents decide to move closer to where my Father worked. This was devastating to my low self esteem, because what few friends I did I have, I lost. Starting High School in a new school, and a new environment, as we moved from a small rural community to the city, was overwhelming on me. I became angry at my folks and withdrew even more. Then my Father died suddenly when I was in my sophomore year just before Christmas.

Well I pretty much lost it as this was the only person in my life I had any kind of relationship with. Even though I respected my Mother, I don’t really think I had any understanding of how to love anyone. I cursed GOD and could not understand why he could take my Father from me and I completely turned my life away from anything remotely associated with GOD. Needless to say my life from that point went in the toilet, especially when I was introduced to alcohol. I was a terrible student and barely made it through school. I got into trouble many times with drinking, such as driving my mother’s car into a house almost killing two people sleeping in their bedroom. Another time I got out of a situation involving DUI and concealed weapon charge because my Brother-in-law had a good crooked lawyer.

Well then I grew up, I thought because I got married and figured I would settle down. Ha –, the problem was I still drank very heavily and this caused this marriage to dissolve after three kids and 7 years of unhappiness. Then a second marriage that started out with the same problem of drinking and this ended after 7 years of marriage and 1 child. At least I was starting to understand my problem with drinking, that nobody understood me and drinking was not really the problem. Another Ha –
Well I then met the Woman of my dreams and a soul mate. Just with that statement I guess you can tell where that went, because I have been single for 20 years now.

While I was involved with this woman, I still had my drinking problem which got to its worse point. I had been in and out of the Alcohol Anonymous program several times and I just did not relate to those people that found a GOD in their lives. I just was not one of those people and I continued to believe I could fix myself! I did not need anyone to help me!
Through a chain of too many events to list now, I came to a day when I could not face life anymore. I was sitting at my kitchen table after a week of not drinking with a terrible case of the shakes. I had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and my 38 Police special laying on the table in front of me. The thoughts running through my head gave me the option of drinking myself to death OR just put a bullet in my head and get it over with! I was at my end —–

At that very moment a calm came over me and a soft quiet voice said – Give AA one more try, there are people who Love you as I do —
I followed that advice and that is why I am writing this letter today, sober, without a drink in 14 years and Jesus in my Heart!
The best part of the story is that three years into my sobriety, at a AA meeting on December 16th we were discussing “Good Christmas / Bad Christmas” and typical stories were that of how drinking ruined the Holidays. But my thoughts were that of the year my Father died just before Christmas. The thought came to me – He died on December 16th – today is December 16th! That was the day I turned my back on GOD! THEN it came to me – that day I sat with the gun and bottle as my choices for life or death WAS December 16th! From that day I turned from GOD to the day I finally listened to him and invited HIM back into my life was 33 years to the day! Only GOD has that kind of patience and Love for each of us to never give up!

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Door Number 3

Death has always been difficult for me. The loss of a friend or a loved one has been a source of intense emotional pain. 9/11 left me with a sense of emptiness that I just can’t put into words. Even Easter Sunday brings a flow of tears as I imagine the suffering and sense of being so alone that our Christ experienced.

For me, Door Number 1, was the passing of my Father-in-Law. To be honest, our relationship was a struggle at the beginning. He didn’t see me as the ideal choice for his daughter, in fact our early years were full of conflict and misunderstanding. As the years passed, I mellowed and he grew to accept me. At least as a loving husband and solid provider for his daughter. He was one of those guys that had “The List.” When he retired he was going to… see “The List.” But, that wasn’t to be, they found he had stomach cancer and he suffered to the end. His wife, his daughters and I were all at a loss.

Door Number 2, was the loss of my Father. He had been struggling with heart disease for several years. His heart surgeon told him he was a great candidate for Open Heart and that he could expect 10 years of pain free life after the by-pass was completed. He didn’t survive the day. They told us to go home after the surgery was completed, he was resting comfortably, there was nothing for us to do and to come back later in the day. Something went dreadfully wrong and he was gone before we could get back to the hospital. I was crushed. For months I had a huge hole in my heart. Where were his 10 years? I’d never talk to him again…laugh with him…hug him.

Then came Door Number 3. My Mother’s health had been on a downward side for several years. Her issues seemed to mount as the years passed. It became so common for her to tell me she had some new issue that one Sunday we were talking and she told me “Well, you know I have Wrens!” “Wrens” I said…What’s that! What did your doctors say? I asked? She laughed and said “No you silly…wrens..the little birds! They’re nesting right next to the kitchen window.” But, the trips to the E.R. became more frequent and with each visit her recovery would be not quite as complete as the previous visit. But, something has changed, something within me, something was growing, a strength that I never could have known without Jesus. I was reading John Eldredge’s book “Desire” during her final month. One evening I read the chapter titled “The Great Restoration” and a sense of wonder overcame me. The image of renewal was so strong, I just can’t explain it. The next morning my brother called and told me I must come home…Mom is dying. I arrived at her bedside a day later…she woke and asked “Oh, what are you doing here?” I explained to her that this time she was going to go home. I asked her “ Mom, do you believe that Jesus was the Son of God?” and she said “Yes.” Those were her final words with me. She passed away 4 days later as I whispered in her ear “Mom, it’s okay…Gary and I will be fine, it’s time for you to let go, to be with our Dad, to be with your Dad and our heavenly Father.” She took one more breath and she was gone. But, something had changed. I knew she was free of pain, I knew she was restored to the beautiful young woman she had been, I knew that she had new work to do for our Master…and I knew I wasn’t alone, that I hadn’t been alone all along. That I was in the same hands my mother and father were in. The caring hands of our God. He knew what was going to happen and he provided me with the tools to deal with my grief. And, I am in his caring hands…I always was.

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I was raised Catholic and really thought I understood the whole God and Jesus thing. I followed my Dad to church every Sunday and Holy day of obligation. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I met my wife in my sophomore year of high school and things began to change. I would visit her church and youth group from time to time and began to notice it was quite a bit different than what I was used to experiencing on Sunday morning. Once married, we had to decide what to do about Sunday mornings and thought we had come up with the most practical decision possible, we would go to the Catholic church one week and the Baptist church the next week. I felt like we had come up with the best solution to the Sunday morning dilemma. That is where God started to work on me. At the end of every Baptist service the pastor would have an altar call, and every week at this time I would get butterflies in my stomach and this feeling that I needed to give in and go forward. I never did because I would come up with all of the reasons why I couldn’t, mostly around embarrassment or how my Dad would feel. We did start a change; however, we started getting more involved in the Baptist church with a Sunday school class and other weekly activities. We then moved to a small town north of Chicago and began looking for a Catholic and a Baptist church we could attend. Needless to say, it was rather easy to find a Catholic church but we could not find what we expected in a Baptist church. God then introduced us to a phenomenal person through my wife’s work. She invited us to church one week and through many hours of debating we gave in and visited. What we found was a welcoming group of people who took us in and really began to be a family to us. That became our church home, and we were now a one church family. The butterflies and feelings only got stronger. We really got involved with Sunday school, a small group, and I was in two men’s groups. I felt I was doing all the right things, but I could not get rid of those feelings that there was something else. When people would ask if I had given my life to Christ, I would say of course because I grew up in a church environment and have always gone to church. I battled with that question every time it was asked because I doubted my answer, but I could not change the picture everyone had of me. It was the issue of embarrassment again. One Sunday evening I realized that I had left my Bible at the church and planned to go pick it up during the week after work one day. On Monday morning as I was taking my son to child care, which was near the church, I decided to pick up my Bible then. As I pulled into the parking lot I made one of those promises we make with God; it went something like this. “God I will go talk to the pastor if he is there when I get my Bible.” I thought I was pretty safe because it was before 8am and he normally did not come in until 9am. I found my Bible and was about to head out of the church when I remembered the promise, so I went to the office and found he was the only person there. I had to keep my promise, so I went in and started to relay this story to him and found myself praying for my salvation. The butterflies were replaced with an appetite to learn and know Him more. This chapter of my story ended with God crushing another belief I had from my childhood about baptism. The Sunday before my family moved to Colorado I found myself being baptized in front of this family where God turned my religion into a relationship.

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My version of what Tim Whipple said in front of us all the other day is this: I only have one story, it just depends which part you want to hear. I would like to share part of it with you, and I’ll try my very best to use the short version, which I’m not very good at.

I was brought up in a southern Baptist home from birth, and also as an Air Force brat. I was born on “The Yellow Brick Road”. You guessed it, Kansas. So that already throws a wrinkle in it. I grew up learning bible verses and going to Summer Bible School. Because of being an AF brat we weren’t always able to go to church together, as it sometimes affords a challenging lifestyle, so I would a lot of the time be finding my own way down to the church. And we moved a lot. We were in Springfield, Illinois staying with my grandparents on Moms’ side while Dad was in England looking for housing for us. I was attending a local Methodist church and the Sunday school teacher would even come by the house and give me bible study. Mom says my salvation is as a result of this lady’s faithfulness. I don’t remember exactly knowing up to this time that I needed to make a personal decision. I was around 9 or 10 and the year was say 1957/1958. Grandma & Grandpa sometimes liked to go and eat at the Salvation Army on Wednesday evenings, so one Sunday, Mom,Grandma and I attended Sunday morning service. That morning I heard the message, don’t delay, this may be your last chance to make the decision to spent eternity with Jesus. It was loud and clear, and I was terrified because I had to cross in front of Mom and Grandma to get to the isle, but I made it. It felt like walking to the Kings throne with everyone standing for you.

Fast forward a few years in the throws of life, good bad and ugly. I was fresh out of my own tour of duty in the Air Force and living in Hickory,NC. I was 25 and going through that stressfull thing “finding your manhood”. To top that off I was working at Shuford Mills Tape Plant, so the chemicals in that place were doing surgery on my brain. To say the least I was very fragile emotionally. Many nights I was able to get only a couple of hours of sleep while iI buried my face in my bible just to maintain sanity. That’s where I received my first really great foundational bible knowledge. Its taken all this to reach the punch line here. I prayed and told the Lord I had no idea where I was headed, good or bad, “but please don’t ever let go of me”. I’m still here and He has Never let me down. Amen and amen.
Thank you for your patience in hanging out with me to the end of this part of the story. God Bless.

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I was very fortunate to grow up in home that nurtured spiritually as well as physically. I remember having my name in the church bulletin for memorizing scripture and winning Bible drills. From an early age I knew which Bible characters did what and quite a bit about their significance. I was taught right from wrong, I wanted to “walk in the light”. I understood at an early age that I wanted to work for Jesus, as my 8 year old self put it.

Getting to know myself through middle and high school proved very difficult. There were many things about myself and about God that I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand how love and hate could exist together. I couldn’t question the authority, so it was as it was and that was it. At that time, it was obvious that there was one thing keeping me from truly letting Christ reign in my life.

Fearful of my own demons, I didn’t share it with anyone but God. I pleaded with Him to take away the one thing keeping me from being His child. Many days, I felt so far from God because of this one thing I couldn’t control and God wouldn’t take it away. The final conclusion I came to was that God must hate me, there is one thing keeping me distant, I’ve asked Him to control it but He won’t. I left.

I wanted to reject everything I had ever known about God, Jesus and Christianity. I found myself in shouting matches with other Christians over the eternal fate of my soul. I didn’t care anymore. Youth groups had rejected me because of this one thing, if I changed I was ok, but I wasn’t “cool” as long as that one thing was there.

Fast forward about 4-5 years after graduating high school: I’ve settled down with a wonderful person and I’ve accepted that I’ll never belong in God’s family because He never took that one thing away. One thing that disconnected me from Him, but connected me to so many other people that had also felt as if they’re tie to God and the church had been cut by one thing.

I remember one night while drinking I found myself defending the faith that I thought I had lost. “Where did this come from?”. I decided that I would challenge the authority I wasn’t allowed to years earlier in school. After heart felt soul-searching, and weeping, I began what I though would be a long journey to see if this one thing really meant God didn’t love or accept me. The feelings everyone I knew changed about me because of this one thing. When it came to light, this one thing made my best friends turn on me, my parents became mournful, I was devastated. To allow myself back into this situation to be hurt and have no one to help me was scary.

I remembered the verse that has always given me comfort, “I know the plans I have for you.” It was a promise that even this one thing wouldn’t negate.

I have found that this one thing God blessed me with was not a curse as I had been taught for so long. This one thing, that God gave me has allowed me to look at the world differently. The struggle I thought I was on alone has been marked by God showing Himself to me and keeping His hand on me. It’s His unconditional love that transformed my life. With one thing that people find repulsive in me, He taught me how to see Him in everything, it’s usually what the world considered most repulsive that He taught me to love and see the most beauty in. The commitment an 8-year old made in the front pew of Baptist church, has not been fulfilled, it’s an ongoing commitment that my life will serve as an example of one thing: That the love of God is more powerful than anything imaginable.

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I stand there like an idiot, hands folded behind my back, feeling completely useless. My brother, a physician, is discussing medical matters with a neurologist, both of them cool and detached. A monitor beeps quietly, almost politely. I catch a few words here and there, all of them ominous, none of them comforting or the least bit encouraging. (Ever notice that in medical parlance you never hear adjectives such as “massive” or “severe” used to describe “recovery” or “improvement”?)

A few visitors wander in from time to time, shaking hands with Roger and me. “Your mother talked about her boys all the time,” they say, or “It’s nice to finally meet Lily’s sons.” Most of them are Chinese, like our mom, and many of them speak with thick accents. A good number of them are from Mom’s church, it seems, and some bring their entire families – five, six people crowd into the room. A few of them hold Mom’s hand and pray aloud in Cantonese. I understand a few words or phrases, wondering if – hoping – that somewhere deep down in her subconscious, Mom is nodding and praying along with them.

One young man, thirty-something, walks in around 5:30 in the afternoon. He looks tired and a little concerned as he holds Mom’s hand, leans over her and says a prayer. He nods at us and leaves. “I’ll be back later,” he says. Sure enough, two hours or so later, he walks back in, this time with his two little daughters. Each girl has a balloon, and they proceed to talking to Mom in Chinese.

The man chats with us. He came over from Hong Kong only a few years back, before his children were born. I don’t remember where he said he met my mom – my impression was that she just started talking to him one day at a restaurant or someplace like that. Then he says, “My whole family loves Aunt Lily … she introduced us to Jesus.”

Over the next day or two, we find out that Mom has been quite the evangelist there in Los Angeles, meeting random Chinese people – sometimes entire families – and inviting them for a home-cooked meal at her small apartment, followed by an introduction to her Lord. (It helped, of course, that she was fluent in seven Chinese dialects, speaking not only in the different languages, but with the different provincial accents.) According to her pastor, Mom routinely had a dozen or more people she’d only just met crammed into her living room, all eating – take my word for it – some really good food. And afterwards, feeling full and grateful, these same people listened to this new friend (who was, in many cases, their only acquaintance in the States) telling them, in a language they could understand, about man’s problems of sin, separation and death, and God’s answer of love, salvation and eternal life. They listened to her introduce them to Jesus.

And by all accounts, Mom had done this kind of thing for years and years.

A few days later, I came back to Florida. We eventually moved Mom to a care facility in Indiana, where my brother lives. I went to see her a few times when I was up visiting Roger. She looked bad the last couple of times – really bad. I knew it wouldn’t be long before my brother called me, before life went on hold for a time. Mom passed away quietly last May, after three years in a coma from which she never awoke.

But you know what? As sad as I’ve been now and then, thinking about how much I miss both my parents, how much I wish they could watch their grandson grow up … I can’t help thanking God for letting me be in that hospital room in L.A. to hear that one, priceless phrase: “She introduced us to Jesus.” The grandest eulogy, the boldest epitaph would have been cheap drivel by comparison.

“She introduced us to Jesus.”

At her funeral, as I touched her cool hand, I whispered – whimpered – “I love you, Mom.” And right about then, I like to think, Jesus was hugging her and saying, “Well done, Lily. Welcome home. You won’t believe how many friends of yours I’ve gotten to know …”

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When I was in high school I had the privilege of being involved in some great church youth groups that gave me lots of opportunities and experiences. One of the highlights was always our annual Choir/Mission Trip. I can’t say that I always, if ever, went for the right reasons. Most of the time it was to get out of town, see new places and be with my friends.

One year we were in Pennsylvania for a week. While we were there we did back-yard bible clubs, and nightly concerts in area parks. Following the concerts we were always encouraged to mingle with people in the crowd and share our faith. I was always good at the mingling part but the sharing of your faith was a different story. I just wasn’t sure I could do that. I wasn’t sure I had a story to tell or that God could ever use me that way.

On one of our final nights we had a concert in the park where I had been spending my days with the children in a back-yard club. After the concert a little girl who had been with us all week came up to me and wanted to talk. She asked me how to know Jesus. Immediately I looked for one of our adult leaders to tell her how. There was no one around. Reluctantly I sat down with her and shared in the only way I knew how and that was simply my story of how I came to know Jesus.

After a few minutes of what seemed to me to be incoherent babbling she asked me if she could ask Jesus into her heart. I prayed with her and she asked Jesus for forgiveness and to come into her heart and save her. We hugged and off she went to join her family and tell them what had just happened. I never saw her again.

Little did I know that one conversation, that one night, would be the beginning of a life long journey that would shape my life and my career. What happened was that conversation with a little girl in Pennsylvania helped me to begin to understand that God could use me. That I could be a part of helping to grow his kingdom. That if I simple made myself available and was willing to share my story he would use me in incredible ways.

I will always be grateful for that little girl and the conversation we had one night in PA.

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I’m one of the fortunate ones. God, belief, church have always been a part of my life. As a young child, I remember always going to church with my family. There were men and women in my church who poured their lives into mine, helping me to understand the teachings of Jesus and – more importantly – helping me understand how Jesus’ teachings were relevant to my life and my way of living.

When I was 8 years old, I remember one very special evening. My mom was tucking me in bed, telling me goodnight, saying my prayers with me. Then, she began to share with me about how my sin – unconfessed and unforgiven – separated me from God. She explained how Jesus died on the cross, so that my sins could be forgiven and my relationship with God restored. She prayed with me as I admitted my sin, asked God to forgive my sin, accepted Jesus as my Savior, and gave Him control of my life. On that one special night, I made the most important decision of my life. One decision that guaranteed my future…an eternal life with God.

Throughout my youth and college years, again, I was one of the fortunate ones. There were mentors, teachers, pastors, and friends who supported me, encouraged me, taught me, and prayed for me. These people had incredible influence in my life, and in who I was becoming. Of course, I failed often…after all, I am human and I was in college! But, I was surrounded by people who cared, people who held me accountable, people who encouraged me and helped me to live a life pleasing to God.

After college, I attended Seminary and then made the decision to enter full-time Christian ministry. One decision that still directs the course of my life. After becoming a pastor, however, I met with much opposition, judgment, and many roadblocks. You see, not everyone was (or is) supportive of female pastors. I found myself asking God one question – over and over: “God, why have you brought me this far for this to happen? For me to meet such opposition and judgment? Why have you called me and gifted me…just for me to meet such opposition? Was I wrong? Did you really not call me?” And then, in one life-altering moment, God enabled me to see, know, feel that He had called me. That He created me and loved me and pursued me everyday with His love and grace. God hadn’t called and gifted me so that I could meet with opposition. God had called me and gifted me so that I could overcome opposition, and rest in Him.

There have been many ones in my life: one evening, one prayer, one decision, one moment, one realization. All of these ones, however, always point me to the One True God who loves me with One Perfect Love.

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