They Know Me as "Bible Teacher"
Growing up, my family had this funny tradition of chronicling each one of our aspirations of what we wanted to be when we "grew up." I guess it was mostly spearheaded by my Mom. In turn, my older brother, younger brother, and I would tell my Mom our desired future occupation and she would faithfully record it in the books.
For years, Robin, my older brother, wanted to be a "marine biologist." After all, he liked sea creatures, and there was a rumor going around that marine biologists got paid bank. (He was pragmatic like that.) We weren't quite sure if my little brother, Justin, actually believed he would be a ninja when he grew up, but that is what he consistently told us when it came time to take account.
I, on the other hand, knew what I wanted to be: a banker. Why, you may ask? Because I loved money. Counting money, to be specific. Nothing brought me more joy than to meticulously organize my paper bills and coins in stacks and piles, count them, find the sum total, and then start the process all over again - just to make sure I was not off one penny. Whether I had 13 or 35 dollars in my piggy bank (it was literally in the shape of a pig), the thrill of counting it accurately was unsurpassed in my world. The wild notion that there was a job out there at which I could perform this task all day every day seemed too good to be true.
But of course, we change with time, even a young boy's love affair with coin-stacking, and I soon realized what I was, in fact, actually destined for: law school. I wanted to be a lawyer. Realistically, I did not picture myself defending people, knowing the law, or wanting to be involved in court life whatsoever - I just wanted to wear a business suit, make money, and impress people when they asked me what my job was. Apparently Robin and I were ambitious little fellows.
Time moved on, high school came and went, and the question of occupation continued to rear its intimidating head. At that point, music had become a huge priority, and secretly all I wanted to do was play drums for a living. However, my Mom had warned me of the perils of a musician's salary (my Dad was a professional musician...), and so my adjusted strategy was to write for a drum magazine. I was good at the drums, writing came natural to me, and I could immerse myself in the lives of all of my drumming heroes for a paycheck at the end of each month. To this day, I believe I would have fit quite well into a job like that. In fact, that is most likely what I would be doing right now if it were not for what happened next.
I went on the fateful (i.e., God-ordained) trip to Kansas City. Jesus got me, got me like I had never been gotten before. He showed me Himself and won my heart, and put a fire in me, from the inside out. My life trajectory changed for good that week. Which, as I think back on it, is incredible. The power of one encounter with the risen Lord!
Led by His grace and Spirit, I began to chase after Him. Soon, over the process of time, my life goals became more and more about Him. I placed drums, college, money, and reputation all on the altar before Him, asking Him what He would have. He didn't answer right away, but I felt His pleasure. He continued to lead me step by step, sometimes in unpredictable ways. I offered to drop out of college and join the prayer movement to end abortion; in another season, I thought it might be more beneficial to His kingdom if I became a missionary. Though my heart-attitude was correct, this was not what God had for me at that moment. He led me to stay in school and finish my degree, as inglorious as that felt at the time.
In a way, the question of what I was "to do" became less and less important. I wanted Jesus. That was my identity, that was my job, that was everything. As Paul put it in his letter to the Colossians, "For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory" (3:3-4). Christ...who is your life. I related to that. He was my very life. What else mattered?
Fast forward again through 2 years at a discipleship school, and then one and a half years into a master's degree. Why more school? Because God said. I didn't spend too much time wondering why. I was on a track for more of God Himself, and I knew this path would take me there. I could have just as easily gotten more of God on the mission field, or in the cubicle 8a-5p everyday, if that's what God wanted. But it's not. He said do more school, so I did.
In 2010, through a strange and unpleasant turn of events, I found myself back at the Foundations Discipleship School in Visalia. I had been suddenly thrust knee deep into something ferociously ugly called "chronic Lyme Disease," and I didn't know where else to turn. Tim and June, the directors of the school, invited me back into the classroom to participate. Some days, I only had the energy to lie down in the back of the room. Eventually, June started prodding me to "share" some Bible verses and thoughts with the class. When I did, the most surprising thing would happen: my mind would become a little clearer, my body a little stronger, if just for a moment, and I would feel God's strength course through me as I shared His Word. From the look on the students' faces and their comments afterwards, I surmised that they were benefiting from it as well. I began to look forward to these times.
The odd thing is that I never was a very smooth or confident public speaker. In junior high and high school I got through class presentations by making them into a joke, and I usually suffered terrible nerves beforehand. In college I had a speech class, and I vomited in the bathroom before one of my speeches. But here I was, still sick, even suffering from illness-related anxiety, fatigue, and brain fog, and yet still possessing the wherewithal to stand in front of a group of people and share the Word of God.
It was a miracle to me whenever it happened. This is not me, I would think. And yet it was, somehow.
Word got out that I had a "teacher's gift," and I started to preach on Sunday mornings at my church every once in awhile. Every single time I was about to stand up in front of 300+ people and open my mouth, the petrifying thought that God would not help me would strike me. But every single time, He would show up, giving me boldness in the moment, giving me something worthwhile to say, and touching people's hearts.
In a very personal way, I know what Moses felt when God called him to prophesy to Pharaoh and deliver the Israelites. He was insecure, scared, and dubious of God's promise to be with Him. Yet God persevered in convincing him that He, the One who "made man's mouth," would give him the words to say and make his mission successful (Exodus 4:11).
The crazy thing is that I love teaching the Bible now. It's one of my very favorite things in the universe. I'd rather do that than jet ski, play football, or watch movies (ok, I was never really a huge football player in the first place...). I still get nervous, and He still surprises me with His helping hand. I get to know Him more there.
And that's the point, really. While this journey of discovering what "I want to be when I grow up" has led me here for the moment, I know it is not over or complete. What I want to be is a lover of God, a friend of Jesus, secure in His embrace and an insider to His intimate counsel. For now, the outworking of that greater journey looks like teaching the Bible at a school. I couldn't be happier about that. But in 5 years it might involve more - I might move to Africa and start a Bible school for orphans, or move to Canada and start a family, teaching my kids about Jesus. Who knows? I might even become a banker for Jesus.
The beauty, though, is that I have a goal and destiny greater than all the job descriptions that made it into my Mom's chronicles from my youth. The majority of the people around me right now might know me as "Bible Teacher," but in my heart, I know who I am. I'm a follower of Christ.
For years, Robin, my older brother, wanted to be a "marine biologist." After all, he liked sea creatures, and there was a rumor going around that marine biologists got paid bank. (He was pragmatic like that.) We weren't quite sure if my little brother, Justin, actually believed he would be a ninja when he grew up, but that is what he consistently told us when it came time to take account.
I, on the other hand, knew what I wanted to be: a banker. Why, you may ask? Because I loved money. Counting money, to be specific. Nothing brought me more joy than to meticulously organize my paper bills and coins in stacks and piles, count them, find the sum total, and then start the process all over again - just to make sure I was not off one penny. Whether I had 13 or 35 dollars in my piggy bank (it was literally in the shape of a pig), the thrill of counting it accurately was unsurpassed in my world. The wild notion that there was a job out there at which I could perform this task all day every day seemed too good to be true.
But of course, we change with time, even a young boy's love affair with coin-stacking, and I soon realized what I was, in fact, actually destined for: law school. I wanted to be a lawyer. Realistically, I did not picture myself defending people, knowing the law, or wanting to be involved in court life whatsoever - I just wanted to wear a business suit, make money, and impress people when they asked me what my job was. Apparently Robin and I were ambitious little fellows.
Time moved on, high school came and went, and the question of occupation continued to rear its intimidating head. At that point, music had become a huge priority, and secretly all I wanted to do was play drums for a living. However, my Mom had warned me of the perils of a musician's salary (my Dad was a professional musician...), and so my adjusted strategy was to write for a drum magazine. I was good at the drums, writing came natural to me, and I could immerse myself in the lives of all of my drumming heroes for a paycheck at the end of each month. To this day, I believe I would have fit quite well into a job like that. In fact, that is most likely what I would be doing right now if it were not for what happened next.
I went on the fateful (i.e., God-ordained) trip to Kansas City. Jesus got me, got me like I had never been gotten before. He showed me Himself and won my heart, and put a fire in me, from the inside out. My life trajectory changed for good that week. Which, as I think back on it, is incredible. The power of one encounter with the risen Lord!
Led by His grace and Spirit, I began to chase after Him. Soon, over the process of time, my life goals became more and more about Him. I placed drums, college, money, and reputation all on the altar before Him, asking Him what He would have. He didn't answer right away, but I felt His pleasure. He continued to lead me step by step, sometimes in unpredictable ways. I offered to drop out of college and join the prayer movement to end abortion; in another season, I thought it might be more beneficial to His kingdom if I became a missionary. Though my heart-attitude was correct, this was not what God had for me at that moment. He led me to stay in school and finish my degree, as inglorious as that felt at the time.
In a way, the question of what I was "to do" became less and less important. I wanted Jesus. That was my identity, that was my job, that was everything. As Paul put it in his letter to the Colossians, "For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory" (3:3-4). Christ...who is your life. I related to that. He was my very life. What else mattered?
Fast forward again through 2 years at a discipleship school, and then one and a half years into a master's degree. Why more school? Because God said. I didn't spend too much time wondering why. I was on a track for more of God Himself, and I knew this path would take me there. I could have just as easily gotten more of God on the mission field, or in the cubicle 8a-5p everyday, if that's what God wanted. But it's not. He said do more school, so I did.
In 2010, through a strange and unpleasant turn of events, I found myself back at the Foundations Discipleship School in Visalia. I had been suddenly thrust knee deep into something ferociously ugly called "chronic Lyme Disease," and I didn't know where else to turn. Tim and June, the directors of the school, invited me back into the classroom to participate. Some days, I only had the energy to lie down in the back of the room. Eventually, June started prodding me to "share" some Bible verses and thoughts with the class. When I did, the most surprising thing would happen: my mind would become a little clearer, my body a little stronger, if just for a moment, and I would feel God's strength course through me as I shared His Word. From the look on the students' faces and their comments afterwards, I surmised that they were benefiting from it as well. I began to look forward to these times.
The odd thing is that I never was a very smooth or confident public speaker. In junior high and high school I got through class presentations by making them into a joke, and I usually suffered terrible nerves beforehand. In college I had a speech class, and I vomited in the bathroom before one of my speeches. But here I was, still sick, even suffering from illness-related anxiety, fatigue, and brain fog, and yet still possessing the wherewithal to stand in front of a group of people and share the Word of God.
It was a miracle to me whenever it happened. This is not me, I would think. And yet it was, somehow.
Word got out that I had a "teacher's gift," and I started to preach on Sunday mornings at my church every once in awhile. Every single time I was about to stand up in front of 300+ people and open my mouth, the petrifying thought that God would not help me would strike me. But every single time, He would show up, giving me boldness in the moment, giving me something worthwhile to say, and touching people's hearts.
In a very personal way, I know what Moses felt when God called him to prophesy to Pharaoh and deliver the Israelites. He was insecure, scared, and dubious of God's promise to be with Him. Yet God persevered in convincing him that He, the One who "made man's mouth," would give him the words to say and make his mission successful (Exodus 4:11).
The crazy thing is that I love teaching the Bible now. It's one of my very favorite things in the universe. I'd rather do that than jet ski, play football, or watch movies (ok, I was never really a huge football player in the first place...). I still get nervous, and He still surprises me with His helping hand. I get to know Him more there.
And that's the point, really. While this journey of discovering what "I want to be when I grow up" has led me here for the moment, I know it is not over or complete. What I want to be is a lover of God, a friend of Jesus, secure in His embrace and an insider to His intimate counsel. For now, the outworking of that greater journey looks like teaching the Bible at a school. I couldn't be happier about that. But in 5 years it might involve more - I might move to Africa and start a Bible school for orphans, or move to Canada and start a family, teaching my kids about Jesus. Who knows? I might even become a banker for Jesus.
The beauty, though, is that I have a goal and destiny greater than all the job descriptions that made it into my Mom's chronicles from my youth. The majority of the people around me right now might know me as "Bible Teacher," but in my heart, I know who I am. I'm a follower of Christ.
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