Okay so I was not raised Christian. I mean I was, but I wasn’t, which seems to be the norm from my 28 years of life.
Growing up, we would go to Catholic church religiously (see what I did there?) only on Christmas and then maybe Easter or Sundays in 6 month spans. When my mom decided she had time and wanted to go, we amused her. The fear of God was a real thing peeps. Catholic church seemed frightening. I would go to confession as a kid for a “clean slate,” and the Priest would tell me to say 10 Hail Mary’s and move on with my life. I still don’t understand how that works.
Belief in Jesus? 100%
Relationship with Jesus? Zero.
There comes a point in every lukewarm Christian’s life when a choice has to be made. We live with this decision our whole life and always have the opportunity to become radically involved in our faith.
Moving to California I was put in such a position of needing Christ. Where the heck do you make friends when you are 25? Exactly. School is over and there were about 3 people in my workplace (at the time). I started going to a non-denominational Christian church, Bayside Church. My answer to everything became church- friends, fellowship, serving, events, etc. I had no idea the difference it makes having all Christian friends. These people built me up constantly, shared in my burdens, and petty drama was at an all time low. This was literally like nothing I ever had before. Sure you have a few great friends throughout your life, however, I am talking in terms of 15 or 20 people who loved me this well for exactly who I was.
Before I knew it I was going to church 2 or 3 times a week (or more) for small group, Sunday service and young professionals ministry. My family thought this was so weird. I remember I had to explain to them that I was “very churchy” now- whatever that meant. I think my brother even used the term “super-Christian” at one point. I only assume this obvious change in me could be seen.
The point I am trying to make is that being a Christian isn’t a hobby. This is a way of life, and a path that I chose for myself. My days aren’t easier for living this way, but they have more purpose, peace and joy. I can trust that everything is falling into place by God.
The first time my brother came to visit me in California we went to San Francisco for the day. We had some time to kill as we were meeting a few of my friends for dinner. I decided to get a little cross tattoo at the Pier 39 tattoo parlor. I wanted my brother to be involved in this process with me. It’s a memory he and I share now. I chose the artwork, he helped me pick out where to get it and gave his opinion. I wanted to do something rad to show this is a real thing. It was more significant for us to go together than for me to go alone.
My brother Trevor and I circa 1991.
This little gem tattoo.
There were many factors that led to my decision to join the World Race, but by this adventure I hope to inspire others in my family. It took my dad awhile to process why I want to do this, and I think he finally gets it.
I believe The World Race is my chance to be rad this year.
