A Brief History Of My Journey Thus Far

If we are to be traveling companions, it seems only fair that you know something of my own Christian experience and how I came to be where I am today in my walk with the Lord.

I was raised in a Christian home (my father was a pastor) and made a public profession of faith at the age of six. It was a Sunday evening service at North Gate Baptist Church in Wheaton, Maryland. The congregation was singing, “ . . . earnestly, tenderly Jesus is calling – calling all sinners, ‘Come home.’” Though not understanding all that the words meant, I was suddenly impressed very strongly with the idea that with Jesus there was safety. I walked to the front of the church where the pastor stood. He asked me something like, “Do you want to ask Jesus into your heart?” I nodded in the affirmative, and was baptized not long after. It would be another twenty years before I would begin to comprehend what had transpired that night between my soul and God.

In the intervening years, my life developed into a futile attempt to follow two contradictory paths. Unaware of the forces at work within me, I lead an increasingly conflicted life. By the time I was in college, I had become a social chameleon, able to blend into whatever surroundings I found myself – Christian, or far from it. In my heart, however, there was no peace. I felt in every circumstance as though I was on the outside looking in, but never able to enter into my experiences wholeheartedly. It was as if someone was holding my belt from behind as I leaned out over a steep precipice. I’m sure that I confused and hurt a few people along the way.

Late one lonely, drunken Saturday night I could no longer run from my miserable emptiness. I fell asleep sobbing in my dorm room, still with no hint as to why. Late the next morning, unable to wait tables at work because of the night before, I wandered into the TV room. The room was empty, but the television was on and “Chariots Of Fire” was just beginning on HBO. By the time the movie ended, so had my conflict. My path from that point became clear. God had taught me through experience what it meant to be a sinner, and what it meant to obey Christ’s call to come home and have forgiveness in Him. And so, I began to understand.

The next several years were a time of great blessing and growth. My heart was light with the realization of God’s love and patience to me in Christ. My circle of friends changed as that realization became increasingly more visible to my unsaved friends. I met other Christians on campus and began attending church again after a long absence.

My new friends and acquaintances invited me to a variety of Christian organizations for students. Their diversity formed a cross section of church traditions. And, as I attended their functions and bible studies, I was confronted with their doctrinal distinctives and the ensuing debates. From liberal to fundamentalist – from Pentecostal to orthodox – from contemporary to traditional I made the rounds at church on Sundays, listening, searching the scriptures, questioning, discussing, praying, and asking the Lord to lead me to what was of Him and to keep me safe from what was not. All the while, each group offered their sincere assurance that their interpretations of God’s Word were certainly the right ones.

Finally, with several of my closest friends at the time, I settled into a fairly new, quasi-charismatic, “nondenominational,” contemporary church. There was a great sense of belonging and community in a very informal, non-traditional atmosphere. The regular Sunday “teaching” from the pastor was based on a passage of the Bible. The close congregation of young families and students studied God’s Word regularly. We spoke freely and openly about what the Lord was teaching us and doing in our lives, and listened to each other with great interest and enthusiasm. During praise and worship, the music was inspiring, the passion was palpable, and many would afterwards remark how they could feel the Spirit moving.

It was here that I stayed for several years, studying God’s Word and praying for direction in my life in general. It was a wonderful time of growth in faith and knowledge. And, it was here that the Lord gave me the greatest blessing (other than salvation) He has given to me – my wife.

Still, something was wrong. I felt a growing discomfort within my soul, but could not identify anything specific to which I might attribute it. The only real peace I found was in the writings I was discovering – writings of godly men from the past (Anglicans, Lutherans, Baptists, Presbyterians, Anabaptists, and others) who were able to open the scriptures to me in a way that others did not or could not. Some were great scholars. Others had a minimum of formal education. As I read their words with my Bible open beside them, one thing stood out in common above their denominational distinctions. They knew Jesus. They knew Him in a way that I did not. And through their words they made me want to know Him as they did.

At some point during this time of searching I had two dreams that I remember vividly to this day. In the first, I was a child at home feeling the sense of comfort and safety again that a good home gives to children. The feeling, in part, was the result of the cleanness of our home. I felt perfectly at ease as a child under or behind furniture because I trusted that nothing bad would be waiting for me there and “get me.” In this first dream, that sense of trust was shaken by the image of a flood of creepy-crawly things pouring out from beneath the furniture I was resting near on the floor. The second dream consisted of the simple image of Jesus standing between the church and the world, beckoning me to follow Him.

How to understand the dreams came to me quickly. The first dream was a warning that I should always be on my guard, even when I am tempted to feel at ease in my Christian life and religious circumstances. Appearances, and especially feelings, can be deceptive. The second implied that the path that Christ walked, and to which He calls His people, was not of the world (obviously), but in some sense neither was it to be found in the visible church. The way of Christ is wholly unique.

The immediate reason for these dreams was shortly made evident to me. After much soul and scripture searching and a long series of conversations with my pastor, the Lord showed me that danger is not always to be found in what is said. Sometimes it lies in what is left unsaid. The messages and teachings at church were orthodox in their content so far as they went. But, they simply, habitually, consistently failed to present all the counsel of God, and (unwittingly I trust) encouraged a false sense of security. Eventually, my wife and I left our church. After some time visiting other churches here and there, we began hosting informal, house church meetings. Over the course of the next ten years, we met regularly with other believers from various backgrounds, had three beautiful children, and I spent the majority of my free time continuing my studies of Scripture and the writings of many of the most influential men in church history. The Lord was pleased during this time to show me His path more clearly.

The philosophy undergirding my studies was based upon an observation I had read by Sir Francis Bacon. “Reading maketh a full man, writing an exact man, and conference a ready man.” Reading indeed made me full, but I felt a need for disciplined writing and challenging conference. At last, I gave in to the calling that I first began to understand that Sunday afternoon watching “Chariots Of Fire;” the calling I first heard that Sunday evening so long ago as a child; the calling from which I now realized I had been running all my life. I quit my job, sold our house, packed up my family, and pursued formal training to be a minister of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.

It was a controversial decision among our congregation. Part was of the opinion that seminary ruins men with too much teaching and too many books, so that they cannot hear God. They were fond of calling it “cemetary.” Others thought the seminary I chose was apostate by virtue of the fact that it was affiliated with a denomination. Most supported the decision I had taken. I set out with the same prayer on my lips that I had spoken in college when I began sorting through the tangle of church options. That was thirteen years ago. In seminary I found not indoctrination, but an environment that sharpened my wits and deepened my understanding of what the Lord had already taught me in His word. Today, I am a pastor - the very thing I told myself I would never be - and am daily amazed and humbled by it. The Lord is good!