I was 12 years old, reading Revelation in my bedroom, scared out of my mind about the lake of fire.
Lost kid. No direction. Just terror.
Then I got kicked out of public school. Ended up at a Catholic school run by nuns who had zero reason to care about a Protestant kid with discipline problems.
But they did.
That's where I learned what it looks like when someone finds you.
From there, Christian school in North Carolina. Pastor Lance heard my story, the mess, the mistakes, all of it.
He looked at me and said: "That was the past. Today's a new day."
When I told him I felt called to preach, he didn't hesitate.
"You're up Wednesday night."
I was found. Given a shot. Launched.
Fast forward to today. My relationship with Jesus is sweeter now than when I was that terrified 12-year-old reading Revelation alone.
But this week, I watched "Christians" forget what "found" looks like.
Jelly Roll and Kid Rock mentioned Jesus and the Bible at the Super Bowl.
Millions heard them.
And the "Christians" came out of the woodwork calling these men wicked as hell.
Here's what they forgot:
God used a donkey to deliver a message.
He used a rock to build His church.
He used broken people who had no business being used.
Maybeβjust maybeβsome 12-year-old kid heard Kid Rock mention that Bible sitting in their house gathering dust.
Maybe he mentioned that Man who died on a cross.
And maybe it started a fire in that kid.
Maybe that lost kid gets found.
Maybe he becomes the next Pastor Lance who tells another broken kid: "Today's a new day."
I'm not a purebred. I'm a mutt.
And I'm grateful God uses mutts.
Because if He only used the polished ones, none of us would be here.
The nuns found me.
Pastor Lance found me.
God used every broken piece.
And now I write for every lost kid the church wants to gatekeep.
Every essay. Every truth they won't touch. Every time I call out performance Christianity while pastors stay silent.
I'm writing for the kid I was.
Full story + why I can't do this alone in next tweet