I was very happy as a “Chreaster Kid” growing up in suburban Massachusetts. A Chreaster is one who only attends church two times a year, the major Christian holidays of Christmas and Easter. Looking back, I attended a few other times when my family would go to chapel with my Aunt and Uncle or head to Mass with my grandparents, but Sundays were days for yard work, hockey travel, and sleep catching. We rarely made adequate time as a family to attend a regular service. 

That’s not to say I wasn’t exposed to the Gospel. My mother worked me pretty hard to get involved with a Christian camp with locations in Groton, MA (Grotonwood), and Ocean Park, ME (Oceanwood). I came to love corporate worship and group “icebreakers.” Nothing ever clicked while I lived in Massachusetts, though. My family uprooted and moved to Texas when I was 14, though, and it didn’t take long for me to realize I was missing something.

I was invited to a local youth group (FBC McKinney) before my first McKinney High School class period was over. I attended that Wednesday, I loved everything about it. I loved the music, I loved the surroundings, and I loved the tee shirt I walked out of there with. I was hooked on youth group, but that led me to deceive many of my newfound friends for quite some time.

From September to February, I was not a believer in Christ, but I knew all the right things to say. I’d been to camps, been to retreats, and I even knew how to pray so that it sounded pure and true, but let me confess, I had no intimate relationship with my Father, through the Son. That fact came to a head at a teen Valentine’s Day revival, HotHearts ’99. It was a two day event, and I remember the first day being blown away by Chris Tomlin and his band. I had an appreciation for the speaker, too, but I was hooked on the music. I felt like the Lord wanted me to stand up and say something, but I freaked out. My buddies and I shared two hotel rooms for the night, and we had some great time until curfew when I walked my buddy Brian (also the one who invited me to youth group in September, along with Greg) to the door. Brian turned around and told me he’d be there for me no matter what happened the next day. As I shut the door, I was horrified that after 5 months, Brian seemingly knew I didn’t have Jesus!

The next day is a complete blur except for three events.
1) The message was God’s note to me.
2) I practically ran down the aisle to confess my sins and accept Jesus
3) My buddies Greg and Brian had their hands on my shoulders

What better time than to find true Love from Jesus than on Valentine’s day?! Forget chocolate and flowers, I’ll use that day to celebrate my birthday from now until forevermore.

If I’m to be honest, I’ll admit that my relationship with Christ was much like a roadside flare. It lit up and burned white-hot for a good bit, but it fizzled and smoldered for a long time, with no fruitful evidence of my faith and trust. I did my thing in sports and ended up in South Bend, Indiana. I found a great church and headed that way every second or third Sunday, but it wasn’t until another life-changing event that I sought God’s direction over my own.

I had been dating my girlfriend for just less than three years, and we had been engaged for just over one of them. Things weren’t great, but I wasn’t complaining, as my map for ten years down the road was already planned out. Needless to say my planned direction changed as soon as, how shall I say it, the passenger exited the vehicle. Thus ended a three-year relationship and a reliance on her shoulders that had gone previously unrecognized. I still remember my college pastor, Brent, telling me I had a shot. I had a shot to rekindle my fire in my relationship with Christ, if and only if I was ready to make a commitment, starting with getting up on Sunday morning.

I started becoming a regular on Sundays. Even if my flight got in at 7:45 on Sunday morning, I was at church just two hours later. The Lord started preparing my heart, mind, and body for something I could not have done earlier in life. On a mission trip to Monterrey, Mexico, he said it quite clearly. He told me to preach. He didn’t tell me to be a missionary wherever a mission field was (ie. The locker room, the business office), He told me to preach. Since that trip, on spring break of 2006, I’ve been serving in the ministry of Grace Church, the church that took me in as a Notre Dame freshman. The Lord has since told me to forego any athletic career and preach now, and has placed a burden on my heart for young people and the men of America.

After working two years at Grace Church in a Youth Ministry position, I took a job working as a resident director at Bethel College in Mishawaka, Indiana.  I now live with and press onward with a generation of college students, while still accepting opportunities to share Christ's love through speaking engagements and acts of love and service.