I Still Believe Read online

  My parents could have pushed me to attend Bible college, and they could have pulled me to stay close to home at Purdue. They did neither. They weren’t bugging me by asking, “What are you going to do with your life?” Instead, they focused on what I was doing at the time: helping at their church, leading worship sometimes, and taking part in Bible studies.

  “Just serve the Lord,” they would say. “You have a job, and you’re serving the Lord.” That is the wisdom my parents possess. My focus was on trying to figure out what God wanted me to do next. Their focus was on what I was doing for God at the moment, knowing that as I continued to serve Him, He would reveal what He wanted me to do next.

  One night I had a dream in which I walked into a room of our house where my mom was on the telephone. She hung up the phone.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “It was Satan,” she answered, not alarmed at all, speaking matter-of-factly. “Do you have his number?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I awakened in a cold sweat. I had no idea what the dream meant, but it frightened me that Satan was in it. I did not have the dream again, but it didn’t leave my mind for two weeks. I knew the dream had a meaning, but I didn’t know what it was until God put it on my heart: I still had Satan’s phone number because I had not completely cut ties with him. It was time for me to move on and never look back. I have a plan for you, I sensed God saying to me, and I want you to dig into My Word.

  That was it; the answer was crystal clear: God’s will was for me to go to Bible college.

  CHAPTER 5

  HEADING WEST

  A T-shirt helped make it possible for me to move to California for college. When my dad became a Christian, the Holy Spirit transformed his life immediately and radically. After he sobered up the night he was saved at the Assemblies of God church, he was done with alcohol for good. Just like that.

  My dad’s outgoing personality didn’t change, but now that he had a changed heart, he began to point people in a different direction. My dad loved Jesus and sought out any opportunity to tell people about Him.

  My dad went to a gym one day wearing one of those “God’s Gym” T-shirts that played off the “Gold’s Gym” logo. I remember that some people considered the God’s Gym shirts a little cheesy, but my dad wasn’t overly concerned with what people thought about his clothing.

  A man in the gym came over to my dad and said, “I like your shirt.”

  The man introduced himself as Keith March, a doctor, and the two hit it off because he liked my dad’s boldness about his faith. They became friends, and Dr. March wound up helping our family and church through the years.

  One time, when Dr. March learned we didn’t have any type of stereo system in our home, he bought us a CD player. He also took our family with his to a Newsboys concert, and he paid for my dad and me to go with him and his son to a Promise Keepers event in Colorado. He helped our church meet different needs, too. Observing Dr. March’s heartfelt generosity really impacted that season of my life.

  When Dr. March learned I wanted to attend Bible college, he said he would pay for my first semester. I was blown away. Calvary Chapel Bible College had a different setup than the typical college. Private universities can be very expensive, but Calvary Chapel Bible College was structured in such a way as to keep costs as low as possible.

  First, the school had a two-year degree program. (It has since added four-year degrees.) Second, it wasn’t an accredited university, which allowed the school to hire pastors who might not have had the degrees required to teach at an accredited university but still had the experience and knowledge to train students for ministry.

  Even though the cost would be less compared to other Bible colleges, I still knew it was going to take a combination of hard work and God’s provision to pay for college. I had saved what I could from making venetian blinds and from other previous jobs, but it wasn’t much. I knew I was going to have to work my way through college.

  Having Dr. March fund my first semester allowed me to start college pressure-free financially and also to begin setting aside money for future semesters from my jobs while in California. Dr. March was yet another blessing God placed into my life and my family.

  I started Bible college in the fall of 1996, and I was so excited to be there. Going into a Christian college environment was important for me because I believed I needed time to separate myself from the worldly pleasures I had been around during high school. Psalm 24:4 describes the person who may stand in the holy place of the Lord as “the one who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not trust in an idol or swear by a false god.” That clean-handed and pure-hearted person is who I wanted to be, someone so in pursuit of God that I could not be distracted by my own desires or worldly pleasures.

  I felt sure that I had been called into ministry, although I did not know what type. I had enjoyed playing the guitar and leading worship in my dad’s church, and writing songs every now and then provided both a creative outlet and an avenue for expressing my feelings and my faith. But I wasn’t yet thinking along the lines of music being my ministry.

  I did know that I wanted to dig deeper into God’s Word. I didn’t want to merely read Scriptures and say, “That was cool.” I wanted to comprehend what I was reading. I wanted to take a section, study it, and say, “Okay, I know this much right now. Now I’m going to sit on this for a little bit and ask, ‘What is this passage really doing in my heart?’”

  Truly experiencing a life-changing faith in Jesus means taking His Word off the pages of the Bible and allowing it to sink into our hearts so that it directs our actions. So I would read and ask, “What are you saying, Lord?” Sometimes I would pray, “What do you mean by this?” Then I would meditate on the passage. I wanted to act out Philippians 4:8, which says, “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” If a thought didn’t meet the apostle Paul’s checklist, I didn’t want to grant it priority in my mind.

  Then, I wanted to take the next step of living out what Scripture says. God’s Word is living and active.1 When we truly study it and meditate on it, it does something within us. I chose a simple plan: open my Bible to Genesis and work my way through Revelation.

  CCBC had a strong emphasis on Bible classes. Right from the start of my first semester, I knew I needed the in-depth study in the classroom to go with what I desired to learn in my private devotional time. I was a sponge in my classes.

  DIGGING IN

  Less than a month in, I experienced a monumental moment. My class was studying the Gospel of John, and the professor, Pastor Chuck Wooley, was talking about Jesus and His love and the need to be set apart and have our hearts cleansed.

  Pastor Wooley was an amazing teacher as it was, but the more he talked about cleansing our hearts, the more my emotions built up within me. I was so hungry spiritually, and I needed that cleansing he was talking about.

  Pastor Wooley’s class was at night, the last session of the day. CCBC’s campus now is in Murrieta, California. But during my first semester, the school moved there from Big Bear, California, a beautiful area in the mountains northeast of San Bernardino. Up in the mountains, I could take a deep breath and soak in the soothing aroma of the pine trees all around.

  The campus was small—there were about five hundred students—and the sanctuary was in a retreat center that had a lodge-like feel to it. I picked a spot in the back, sat down, and wept. I cried for almost two hours straight, with my head buried in my hands most of that time.

  I had to be a sight. I wasn’t sitting in a chair; I was sitting on the back of a chair with my feet on the cushioned seat. I was stout-looking from my workouts, and given the small number of students, it was pretty well known that I had come to California from Indiana. I had long hair in a ponytail, and I had shaved the sides of my head.

  Needless to say, I stuck out to begin wit
h at CCBC. Here was this burly, outgoing, Midwestern dude with a crazy hairstyle just weeping and weeping and weeping.

  There were other students in the sanctuary, but I didn’t care. When someone would ask if I was okay, I’d look up and say, “God’s dealing with me,” then put my head back in my hands and continue to cry.

  The prophet Ezekiel discussed a time when God would give the people of Israel a new heart and place a new spirit within them.2 When the tears stopped and I began to reflect on what had just taken place on the back of that seat, I felt that God had given me a new heart and placed a new spirit within me.

  It’s not that there had been anything woefully evil about my heart. I was a Christian, living like one, and seeking to develop an even closer relationship with Christ. But there still was a lot of junk in my heart.

  The best way I can describe what took place would be to compare my heart with a closet that needs a thorough cleaning. You take inventory of what should be in the closet, and then you throw out some things or rearrange the items you need to keep. You tidy up the floor so that you can actually walk into your closet again. When the job is finished, you’re tired because you are fully aware you’ve been through a major overhaul, but it’s all worthwhile when you stand at the entrance and behold what looks like a brand-new closet.

  I hope that’s the way God felt when He looked at my heart as I walked away from that seat. I knew for sure, though, that I felt good about what had taken place. So much junk had been removed. I had grown tired of all that junk still lingering around. I hated it, in fact. I wanted to be set apart, but my inability to throw out all those selfish desires had become an obstacle.

  From that point on, I was pedal to the metal for God.

  One of the changes I noticed right away was the compassion I felt toward others. I had always been respectful of others and nice to them because that’s how my parents had raised me. Being nice and respectful, though, falls well short of having a heart that aches for others. That comes from having compassion. When we allow Christ to let us see others the way that He sees them, we notice more situations around us where the hope of Christ is needed. We don’t merely feel for those people, we feel compassion for them.

  It wasn’t as though I needed to change so people would like me or want to be around me. It was that I needed to change so that God could work through me like I wanted Him to—and like He wanted to. It wasn’t that I needed to change so I could benefit. It was that I needed to change so others could benefit—and God could be glorified.

  My love for others seemed to increase exponentially.

  I would see people sitting on benches around campus who looked depressed or anguished, and my heart would ache for them. I would feel pulled in my spirit to tell them that Jesus loved them, that there was hope in Christ, and that Jesus had so much in store that He wanted to give to them. It became a personal mission to share Jesus’ love and hope with others. And that mission didn’t grow from mere knowledge that I had learned in a classroom—I had experienced God’s presence myself on my own lonely seat on the back of that chair.

  The next time I was home in Indiana, I apologized to my brother Jared and asked his forgiveness for not being a better brother. Jared is eight years younger than me, and the age difference probably kept us from being as close as we could have been. Plus, we have opposite personalities. He is more reserved, like my mom. I’m more let’s-do-something-crazy, like my dad.

  As my sensitivity toward others increased, I realized that I had not been the exemplary big brother for Jared that I should have been. When I asked his forgiveness, Jared graciously replied, “Oh, you’re fine.” (He got that trait from my mom too.) But I knew better. I knew I had missed out on opportunities to be the close big brother he needed and to make a positive impact on his life.

  At college, I felt closer to Jesus than ever before. My times of worship—both as an individual and with the student body—were amazing. During chapel services, the worship reminded me of the power I had sensed during the first night of that summer camp. Except now, I was an active part of that worship experience, not a witness.

  We had great conversations around campus. We shared needs with one another and prayed together. We did a lot of celebrating what God was doing in one another’s lives because we had a deep interest in one another. We learned about one another’s upbringings and spiritual journeys.

  Our student body included a wide variety of backgrounds, from new Christians full of zeal and passion to the more seasoned ones who already had a strong knowledge of Scripture. With all those different walks of life coming together and the different perspectives we brought with us, we asked difficult questions about God’s Word and really dug into the meaning of Scripture. As I learned more about my fellow students, I felt like I was able to walk through the gamut of life with them.

  During my alone time, I would go off to a part of a mountain, pray, and sing words of worship to the Lord: “Thank You, Lord” or “Praise You, Lord.” I felt like I was hanging out with Jesus!

  LEARNING TO LEAD

  To borrow from Jesus’ illustration about the wise and foolish builders,3 I would describe my foundation when I started attending CCBC as part rock and part sand. I believe that unstable foundation is one reason I didn’t think I was prepared to go back to my public school after my recommitment at summer camp.

  The Bible classes at CCBC definitely solidified my foundation. We studied through most of the books of the Bible, and we really expounded on books that were deep in theology, such as Hebrews, Romans, and Isaiah, to name a few. On top of our professors’ instruction, we also listened to what we called “Chuck tapes.”

  Pastor Chuck Smith, who started the Calvary Chapel movement, was a phenomenal teacher of the Word, and we listened to tapes of him teaching verse by verse. I took detailed notes on what I was learning from Scripture in the classroom, and during my individual Bible study, I highlighted texts, underlined key words, and wrote notes in the margins. Section by section, I was establishing a solid and complete foundation on which to build the rest of my life.

  Musically, I would play guitar and sing in my room or sometimes in the school cafeteria, but music still wasn’t an area of ministry I was considering. I truly was all about learning God’s Word. One day I was playing around with a guitar in the cafeteria when someone asked, “Do you play?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Play a song,” he said.

  I did, and when I finished, he said, “Oh, wow.”

  Another person came up to me and said, “You should lead worship in chapel.”

  I was surprised to find something in me immediately resonating with the idea. “Yeah,” I said. “I’d love to.”

  Before I fully realized what I’d gotten myself into, everything started falling into place, and I was scheduled to lead worship in chapel. As the day approached, I was so nervous. Leading worship is like watching a game show on television: it looks so easy until you are the one actually doing it. I’m outgoing and comfortable on a stage now, but I was super shy my first time in front of a chapel service. I was so concerned that I might come across as arrogant that I went to the other extreme. I was worshiping, but in a very understated way.

  But still, during my first time leading worship at CCBC, I thought, Wow, I’m enjoying this!

  I had led worship in my dad’s church and at Bible studies back home, but my heart had become so different since then that for the first time I felt like I was ministering or truly using a gift for the Lord and being used by Him. I was stoked!

  That first time in chapel led to my leading worship twice a week at CCBC. Then came invitations to lead worship or sing songs in area churches. I would get nervous each time because I was afraid of messing up.

  Honestly, although I had led worship in Indiana, I didn’t really understand how to be a worship leader. I can’t remember how steep this learning curve was, but I reached a point where I said to myself, Hey, just do what you do when you’re in the audience,
but you’re going to be the one leading instead.

  I learned that a worship leader leads by worshiping. If as the leader you’re most concerned about making sure the people in the audience are okay, then you’re missing out on the depth of the worship time. I decided that when I led, I was going to worship Jesus. And that’s what I did, and the others worshiped Jesus with me. It was an amazing experience to worship in a manner that led others into worship.

  I didn’t have my own guitar, so whenever I would lead, sing in a church, or play during my alone time, I would have to bum one off a friend. After Dr. March covered my first semester at CCBC, I paid for the second semester by stocking office supplies at Staples. The summer after my second semester, I took a construction job that helped pay for my third semester. It was all I could do to pay for school, so purchasing a guitar was out of the question.

  I wasn’t even sure I was going to be able to finish my two years because I didn’t have enough money for my fourth semester. But because I had been working every semester and during the summer, the school worked out a payment plan with me that would allow me to attend my final semester, then receive my degree when I had paid off all the tuition and fees.

  The opportunities to minister through music continued. Students would pass along invitations for me to sing at their churches with their youth groups or in their main services. I also was in a band with some other students, and we led worship and put on concerts at school every once in a while. That allowed us to perform songs we each had written.

  Back then, I never consciously decided to write a song and then sat down and wrote it. My songs came out of my relationship with the Lord, based on something He had done in my heart or something I had read that caused me to reflect on Him. What’s cool is now I can look back on those lyrics I wrote and see how God was speaking to me then. In one song, called “Looking Back,” the chorus says,