I grew up in the church the son of a Presbyterian (USA) pastor, and while I admired my father and felt his profession was most noble, I also never heard the gospel. I knew all the Bible stories, was the star pupil in catechism class and even sang a solo or two in front of the whole congregation. But when I was about 12, my Dad left the church amidst a bitter dispute and I followed right behind him. The lines between God and my Dad were so blurred and confused at that point that I had no real concept of the Christian life apart from Dad. Church, without Dad, was merely a place of rules and restrictions and construction paper and flannel-graphs – not the most compelling place to be. So after Dad left, I rarely went to church again. In fact, I can count on one hand the times I went in the 14 years that followed.
It was when I was 26 and working for an apparel manufacturer in the Southeast that I finally found my way back. I was living a relationship-less life as a traveling salesman and had immersed myself so much into my work that I spent only 17 days at home that year. I was so lonely, and Sunday’s were the worst because all the stores who I sold to were closed so I couldn’t work. It was during those Sunday mornings… completely alone…that I began to consider church again. At least I would be around people there. So I would drive down to main street USA and go into the first church I saw. I didn’t care (or know any better) what denomination it was…I just cared that there were people with smiles on their faces. Needless to say, God showed me a very wide variety of worship styles, sermons and liturgies…and smiles…and began, at that time, bringing me back to Himself.
Fast-forward 4 years. I had long-since quit my job as a traveling salesman and had moved out to California to chase a girl. God providentially moved me into a garage apartment of a wonderful Christian man, Buck Murphy, who had a ministry to alcoholic and homeless young men in the community. He would rescue them from the streets, move them into the guest bedroom of his home and help them find their way out of the gutter…and into the Bible. As I look back, I realize that I was just as desperate for a savior as each of the homeless men he helped. And while Buck wasn’t my savior…he led me to my savior, Jesus Christ. He invited me to a men’s retreat one weekend, and much to my chagrin, he made sure that I went. I had been attending his church since I had arrived in California (mostly to impress the girl), and while I definitely wanted a closer relationship with God, I still thought that the majority of Christian teaching functioned much like a cattle prod to get me acting in a righteous way. But then, that weekend, I heard…and saw…the gospel for the first time in my life.
The Friday night of the retreat weekend was the “Convict Them of Their Sin” night. And I was convicted…so much so, that I literally got physically ill over it. Then the following night they read the medical report of what Christ endured, physically, on the cross and then showed a fairly graphic video depiction of the crucifixion. For the first time I got it. I understood, for the first time, that he endured all that for me. Then Buck and I prayed together and immediately I felt the Holy Spirit come into my heart and make a dramatic overhaul. I walked out of that room, that night, a changed man forever. I knew, immediately, that I was a child of God and the lines that were once blurred between my earthly father and my Father in heaven became instantly distinguishable. Six months later, I was attending my first class at Covenant Theological Seminary here in St. Louis.
That was 11 years ago now. After meeting my amazing wife in 2002, getting married and graduating from seminary we began South City Church in 2005 (“particularlizing” in 2008). It has been a labor of amazing grace. We have had the privilege of walking alongside so many beautiful souls in these last few years, and while there are days when we are overwhelmed by the brokenness and pain in our city and in the lives of those we love, we are all-the-more encouraged to see how our savior has healed wounds, lifted chins and encouraged lives of great wonder and purpose. We are so thankful to God for bringing our lives into his Story, and for you – for sharing your stories with us in this glorious ruin called South City Church.
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