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I’m an unlikely church planter. My résumé better positions me for prison than for the pastorate.
When I was 21, if someone told me that one day I wouldn’t only pastor but actually plant a church, I would’ve insisted they had the wrong guy, then excused myself with a chuckle.
Experience - Church - Pastors - Ways - World
From my experience growing up in the church, pastors were stiff, weak, and naive to the ways of the real world. As I saw things, I didn’t have time for that nonsense. I had a life to live.
By age 21, I’d already dropped out of high school and college. I was a lucrative drug dealer, distributing large quantities of marijuana across state lines, traveling the Northwest of the United States in my ’69 pop-top van, chasing whatever promised to bring me pleasure.
Life - My - World - Way
As far as I could see, this was the good life. My world revolved around me, and I liked it that way.
But pride has a peculiar way of bringing you low (Prov. 16:18). I’d been doing my own thing for a decade, made surprising sums of illegal money, avoided getting arrested, and had a group of longtime friends.
I had everything I wanted, and it wasn’t enough.
But in spite of all this, I felt incredibly alone. I had everything I wanted, and it wasn’t enough. Four years later, at 25, I found myself on my bedroom floor, transferred from darkness to light by a sovereign God who isn’t stiff, weak, or naive to the ways of his world.
Weeks - Youth - Group - Friend - Church
A few weeks earlier, I’d bumped into an old youth group friend from the church I grew up in. We hadn’t seen each in other in close to 10 years, and he’d just become a youth pastor at a church plant in town.
He needed another male chaperone for an upcoming youth winter retreat, so he...
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