As we were driving home the other day, Melissa made a passing comment that caused me to reflect on my time as a pastor. She said, “God called you to be a pastor.”
Before I thought twice, I blurted out a response: “But did He really?”
Melissa leaned back, as if God was about to strike our car with lightening and send me down to a fiery pit of eternal damnation. I smiled.
“Maybe God make a mistake,” I said, “or maybe I was just listening to all the wrong voices.”
My Journey With Jesus
Growing up, I was a typical church kid. I said all the right things. I listened to all the sermons. I went to all the classes and volunteered wherever I was needed most. I joined the worship team at the age of twelve and was highly active in our small, but dedicated, youth group.
But on the inside, regardless of my involvement, nothing much was happening – nothing was really connecting deep within me … so, I faked it. For quite some time, actually. And I was pretty good at faking it too. Or so I thought.
I wanted people to think that I was a good kid who had a good relationship with Jesus. But that wasn’t the case at all. I was a self-centered young man who cared more about what people thought of me than what God thought of me. I cared more about disappointing others than I cared about disappointing God.
But eventually – and thankfully – there came a time when the inner me and the external me collided. I was faced with a question inspired by the conviction of the Holy Spirit that went something like this: “Who are you living for?”
At the age of seventeen, sitting on the edge of my bed, I made the decision to follow Jesus and devote the entirety of my life to him. I made the decision to drop the hoax and start my own journey toward Jesus. From that moment on, I was like the Cookie Monster, trying to devour as much as I could as fast as I could.
And, for the first time in my life, I cared about Jesus.