Recall

I’m in Wilmington today and, per the usual, I drove around to see different little places that were rather important or only vaguely important in the history of me. I’m sure it seems like I’m overly nostalgic for this place. That’s because I am. Many of my best memories in life thus far were created here.

Obviously I’ve created many since then, most of them involving my wife, but the majority of the great memories created in Wilmington were during my single days.

Now before you start a long tirade of how my best days should have been after my wedding, I have to say that we had a couple of years in there that were some of my worst ever. To be fair, they were some of Jo’s worst as well. We were only here for three and half years as a married couple. Two were ball-busters and the other year and half was foreboding.

What can I tell you?! Marriage is tough sometimes. If your heart and mind aren’t straight, most of the time.

But this is all a tangent. The real point of this began with me driving past the Port City Java on Independence Drive today. I saw a guy standing outside, we nodded at one another. I don’t know that he recognized me since I’m overweight and had on glasses, but I knew him all too well.

I spent tons of time at this joint after Jo and I moved back, but I had first started frequenting this particular location while I lived with Adam & Travis in ’02. It was the “other office” for tons of staff and attenders at PC3.

I had been attending PC3 for about two and a half years when I started meeting with one of the Executive Pastors at the church, Mark Tippett. Mark was one of the most godly guys I’ve ever come across. Unlike many, he was also a regular guy. He didn’t always fit into the regular pastor type of mold. He was a good dude. He took non-believers fishing on his boat for the day…..just to hang out. I was in a small group of guys that he lead. He started discipling me soon after I joined.

I had been in a discipleship relationship once before. The previous time with was with a guy named Reid Satterfield. It was good during round 1, but round 2 was extremely short-lived. I made the excuse that I couldn’t deal with him being so depressed. I mean, sure he’d been shot in the leg by Kenyan rebel thugs or something. But you’re back in the U.S.! Cheer up, dude!!

Admittedly, not my finest hour.

So, Mark was my second shot at discipleship. It was really good. He helped me with some pretty big dealings in my life. He walked with me through my decisions on what to do about school. What to do about JoAnn. But I never let him in on my true desire to be in ministry. I never let him in on my ongoing struggle with pornography. Not once.

I was finding life difficult by autumn of ’02. JoAnn had moved back to Creedmoor, living with her parents and working at a Credit Union branch in North Raleigh. Matt Vana was still in Wilmington, but he was married by then, and for one of the first times ever I felt dreadfullly alone. I was failing nearly every class I was enrolled in at UNCW. I was no longer in Intervarsity. My hopes of going on staff with Intervarsity were now a fleeting memory as I saw my time at UNCW coming to a grinding halt. I had pissed away tons of money that my parents had poured into my education. Continuing to try to bring up my GPA, with the massive amount of pointless hours I’d accumulated, was no longer feasible. I had no clue what to do. I just knew that I didn’t want to go home, tail tucked between my legs.

It was around this time that Mark started talking to me about becoming one of PC3′s small group coaches. I would be one of a handful. I said I thought I could possibly do that.

But the pressures of life that I had swirling around me were overwhelming to say the least. It was the end of the semester. I had stopped going to my classes. I had stopped sleeping for that matter. I drove to Raleigh on the weekends, I worked 3rd shift at the Fairfield Inn on the other weekends. I had seen countless friends leave town. They had plans. Jobs. They had places to be. This was just part of it all. Finish school and head in a particular direction.

There was nothing else to be done. It was my turn.

I went to see my sister in California, returned to Wilmington and packed my stuff. I told Mark that I was sorry I wouldn’t be able to help with the small group coaching thing, but I essentially had no job and no real reason for being in Wilmington anymore. He asked me to try to find some means of work and reconsider. I told him I didn’t see how that was possible.

It wasn’t long after I moved back to Davidson my last roommate Evan was brought on staff, and shortly after that a guy named Richie started coaching small group leaders and was in short order put on staff as well.

My heart thudded to the ground when I heard. My only thought was, “that was supposed to be me.” Of course, that’s not totally true. The Lord obviously brought Richie into where he needed him. If he had wanted me there, he would have put me there regardless of my tweaked state of mind and whacked circumstances.

But that’s me talking now. If you think for one second that wasn’t a major player in why I went through about 6 years of rebellion, you are gravely mistaken. Between that seeming missed opportunity, the idea that I was back doing what I’d done before I went to school, that I had accomplished nothing, that I had lost 50% of my friends in my break-up with Carmen, that all of my good times in Intervarsity were like a mist, and that I had left behind my favorite church ever, I was destroyed. And it wasn’t my fault. No no!! It was God’s fault. A loving God wouldn’t have allowed me to lose so much in such a relatively short amount of time.

My left arm just twitched in 3 places typing that. I know what’s true. I know the sin in my life was a massive barrier between me and the Lord. I was fooling everyone but Him.

Things are different now. But seeing Mark Tippett today made me wonder all over again…….’Lord, what is it that you want from me? Is this all that you had planned?’

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