The J-Dog Journey: Where Is Life?
by Kent R. Hunter
Published by Church Doctor Ministries at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Church Doctor Ministries
Discover other titles by Kent R. Hunter at www.smashwords.com
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free e-book. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete, original form.
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Chapter Two - Awake Is a Bad Dream
Chapter Six - A Word Is Planted
Chapter Seven - University: S.W.A.T. or What?
Chapter Eight - Does God E-mail?
Chapter Nine - Life at the Crossroads
Chapter Ten - The End of the Beginning
Chapter Eleven - Across the Pond
Chapter Twelve - Double Culture Shock
Chapter Thirteen - On the Streets
Chapter Fourteen - Life in the House
Chapter Sixteen - My Street Friend Sally
Chapter Seventeen - Rainbow World
Chapter Eighteen - Home for Christmas
Chapter Nineteen - Authenticity
Chapter Twenty - The Poorest of the Poor
Chapter Twenty-one - Working from Rest
Chapter Twenty-two - Mentor Tom
Chapter Twenty-three - My Campus Call
Chapter Twenty-four - Worship White Hot
Chapter Twenty-five - Zurich: Red Lights and God’s Light
Chapter Twenty-six - The Journey to Ecclesall Road
Chapter Twenty-seven - Released and Ready
Chapter Twenty-eight - Esther and Pop-Pop: Hello and Goodbye
Chapter Twenty-nine - A Miracle at Pizza Hut
Chapter Thirty - Think about God
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Dedicated to my fellow Kingdom crazies:
Steve
Jason
Shelly H.
Tracee
Olive
Neil
JZ
Josh
Chris
Beth
Katie
Shelley S.
Adam
Mike
bff JC
About the Author:
Kent R. Hunter serves as guide to the awesome team that leads SEND North America, a young adult training movement committed to changing the world.
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You know what I like about sleeping? You don’t have to think about anything. I don’t have to wonder about our next football game – and whether the coach will let me play. I don’t have to think about Sarah. I am not sure what attracts me to her, anyway. She’s okay. I guess. Maybe…for now. I don’t even have to think about school. After three years and two months, I am ready for…I don’t know what. I can’t figure out why I’m on this earth. What’s my purpose? I don’t have to think about that.
I’ll miss football. I like the challenge. I like lifting weights. I know, I’m a little crazy. I really like my fraternity brothers. These guys are family. Nobody judges anybody. I know I like the parties. The girls. The beer. I guess I just really like hanging out with my friends. And…I like sleeping.
I really like sleeping because I don’t have to think about what the hell I’m going to do with my life after I leave this university. After three years focused on criminal justice, I’m pretty sure it’s not for me. What is for me? I don’t have a frickin’ clue. Yeah – that’s what I like about sleeping.
My advisor, Mr. Milton, is a really cool guy. Man, I love that guy. He’s dropping hints I should get my master’s degree. He recruited me to this school. He wants me to go to some graduate school in Florida. That’d be cool. Palm trees, sunshine – no cold Indiana winter. I could do that. But then what? Be a cop? Work with the juvenile system? FBI? Guard the President?
My favorite thing about sleeping is that I don’t have to think about God. Yeah, that’s right. I’m tired of thinking about God. I grew up in a Christian home. My parents are over-achievers. My mom teaches in a Christian school and my dad used to be a pastor. Then he became a consultant to churches. He’s an insane over-achiever. You wouldn’t believe!
He took me on a trip to Africa when I was 12. He taught thousands of pastors. I just hung around. The best thing is that we went hunting in the bush before the conference. I shot a wildebeest. It was awesome. All the “God stuff” was okay – maybe a little over the edge.
Me? I liked youth group. We had a youth pastor – Eric – he was cool. He once caught me smoking a joint. My parents were away on vacation, overseas or somewhere. Some friends came over and brought some weed. I thought I’d try it. Just then, Eric shows up. I thought, “Holy shit! We’re busted!”
Eric was really pissed. That hurt. He told my parents when they got home – with me in the room. They were all serious until Eric left. They asked if I learned anything. Like – what are you going to say? I shook my head and looked at my feet. They laughed. They thought it was funny I got busted. My parents cared about me – I felt that. But word got out at youth group. A few people – and a couple of leaders – made fun of me. I felt betrayed – and judged. I thought church was supposed to be about forgiveness. And acceptance. I felt judged. My heart began to drift from church.
Then Eric encouraged me to lead our youth group. I liked that. A few months later, our church got low on money and they shit-canned Eric. I even talked at the meeting. He got screwed. I didn’t like church for a long time. I’m not sure I liked God, either.
I started college. I’d go home on weekends. Our family is pretty tight. We have fun. Joke. My parents aren’t stuffy-religious. I don’t get their commitment. Some things about church frustrate them. But, they’re loyal. A little over-the-top-loyal, I think.
In my second year at university, I got into Sig Ep – a fraternity. It’s awesome! I love living in community. Most of the guys are on the football team. And, did I mention the parties? We’re experts at parties. Our fraternity rocks! It’s a family. Total acceptance. No judging. Like church is supposed to be.
During my second year, I didn’t go home as much on weekends. The parties went late. I slept in most Saturday and Sunday mornings. I didn’t miss church that much, to be honest. When I was home, I just mostly went out of respect to my parents. Church was mostly boring. And the music sucked.
By the third year at school, I became a committed, party-hard fraternity guy, and loved it! I stopped going to church with my parents. I found a community who accepted me for who I was – my fraternity. It was liberating. My parents tolerated it. They encouraged me, but didn’t hassle me. I was striking out on my own.
My Sig Ep brothers became my new primary family. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. Even my sister, Laura. She got married to Jason. He’s part geek, but he’s okay. My new home is with my friends at school. Why not?
My dad tried to weasel me back to church, or God, or…whatever. He tried to get me to go to the Christian Campus House here at Tri-State University. None of my fraternity brothers were part of that. I didn’t know anyone there. My parents came to visit and met me at this church near school. I showed up – last minute. Half hung-over. Two, maybe three hours of sleep. I can fake it! I knew what they were up to. I was surprised – one of our football coaches was there. He said, “Hi,” but never talked about it at practice.
And God? I don’t know. I guess I believe. Or maybe not. Who cares? I mean, besides my parents. Yeah, and probably my sister. But what difference does it make, anyway? I’m scared. I mean, if I was a real Christian, I couldn’t really have fun any more. Christians don’t have fun, do they? That’s what I like about sleeping the most. You don’t have to think about stuff. You don’t have to think about God. Or life.
I remember my pastor, Paul, always talks about life after death. I can’t relate. Hell, I don’t even like to think about life after college. You don’t have to think about anything when you are sleeping. And, after a few beers, I sleep real good.
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Chapter Two - Awake Is a Bad Dream
“Jon, you awake?”
The pounding on the door was a sledge hammer on my head. The autumn sun was streaming in my window. It felt like a warm washcloth on my face. It seemed to say, “Stay right where you are, go back to sleep.”
“Jon… you in there?”
I recognized the voice. “Black Jack, is that you?”
“Yeah. Hey, Jon, can I borrow your deodorant?”
Black Jack’s always borrowing something. You’ve got to love him. I could see him before I opened my door. He’s standing there in his underwear, just out of the shower. He’s a guy who should never wander around in his underwear. The guy’s 100% muscle, flab, and hair – all over. Yeah – 350 pounds! He’s a lineman everyone would want on his team. I can’t imagine playing four quarters against him. You’ve got to go home bruised.
I’m a defensive end. Second or third string, depending on the coach’s mood. I don’t play much, but I love the game. I wasn’t great in high school, either. I’m not going to be a star, you know what I mean? I probably should have stayed with basketball. But the coach was a jerk. Tried to motivate me by yelling. Pissed me off, and I quit.
My dad cried when I quit basketball. He saw how hard I worked. It was a tense time. He thought I was quitting for the wrong reason. I figured it was none of his business. I still think so.
You shouldn’t just quit in a quick decision. That’s why I am so stressed. The more I get into criminal justice, the more I don’t think it’s for me. Problem is, I have no clue what’s for me. Why am I on this earth?
I was right. There was Black Jack, standing there all hairy, dressed in his underwear, picking his wedgie. Doesn’t matter – we’ll be friends forever.
“Hey man, that was an awesome party last night, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I thought it was pretty cool,” I said, as my mind wandered to the girls in the corner. “Hey, do you know who those girls were with that redhead? She is really hot.”
Black Jack shook his head, “No. I think they were friends of girls from the sorority across the street. Hey, man, thanks for the deodorant. I’ll get it back to you later.”
“Yeah, that’s cool. I’ll see you later. You going to Skip’s tonight?”
“You want to go?” Black Jack asked as he went down the hall in his underwear.
“Yeah, a bunch of us are meeting over there for a few beers, around nine.”
I closed the door, went over to my bed and sat on the edge, looking out the window. The lady in the house next door was taking out the trash. Matt was talking to some guy by his car. My mind wandered to a couple of months back, when I was home for the summer.
“Jon, you all right?” my dad asked. We were in the kitchen. I had just come in for lunch, from the field. We live on a tree farm. I told you my folks were over-achievers. They bought this land just before I was born. It was an old, neglected farm in northeast Indiana. My dad grew up in Michigan. My grandparents had some friends, so the story goes, who had a cabin in the north. They planted trees. My dad got the idea that someday he’d plant some trees.
My parents moved to Indiana because that’s the last place my dad was a pastor, before he went full-time into consulting churches. That’s when they bought the farm. It was a rundown piece of land, not good for crops. My parents bought it with the idea of planting trees. They got into a government program and ended up planting trees every spring for twenty years, by hand.
I grew up on this farm. When I was in grade school, my dad put me on the big John Deere tractor. I could hardly reach the pedals. My mom was petrified. I didn’t really like the work my dad tried to get me to do. I liked spending time with my friends a lot more.
As I got older, my dad introduced me to fishing in our lake and deer hunting in our woods. The trees they planted grew larger. As I grew up, a young forest grew up – all around our house. As I got older, the farm grew on me – it got into my blood. You know what I mean?
On our farm, there were always projects to do. There was always work. As I got older and started lifting weights for football, I could do more. I learned more, too. I learned to service our tractors. I learned how to mow with the big tractor. I learned all about chainsaws. I learned how to prune trees.
During my college years, I had several jobs during the short season between the last day of school in the spring and football camp, which always started the 1st of August. I worked several jobs – Home Depot, Carter Lumber. But, I always worked a second job at the farm. It helped to have spending money.
I had been cleaning a field where they were going to plant 10,000 trees the following spring. That’s when I ran into my dad in the kitchen.
“What?” I asked.
“Are you all right?” He asked again. “You’re not yourself. You’re short to your mother and you just don’t seem happy. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I snapped. It was my usual answer to anything…..and he knew it.
“I think you are not sure about your chosen career,” he said.
I was stunned! “How do you know?” I said as I looked him in the eye.
He smiled, even laughed a little. “Well, first of all, I’m your father. Second, I guessed.” He continued, “Jon, lots of people study for one thing and end up doing something else. Cut yourself some slack.”
I responded, “I’m just not sure about my degree in criminal justice.”
His smile disappeared. “Jon, a degree is a degree. You’ve worked hard for three years. Finish. Finish well. And then, do whatever. Most people never ask what your degree was. But they all want to know if you’ve got a college degree.”
It made sense. What bothered me – and what would haunt me – were those words: “and then, do whatever.”
In the weeks that followed, I felt lost in the woods with no compass.
****
My fraternity brothers were putting together a Saturday afternoon pickup volleyball game in the back yard. I love my third story, corner room. It’s the best one in our huge frat house. After my third year at school, I made sure I got back in time to get this room. It faces the east in one corner, so I get the morning sun. It faces the south on the other, which gives me extra warmth in the long, cold, Indiana winter.
In the spring and fall, I can look down on the back yard. This is the spill-over place for parties when the weather’s good. It’s the place for receptions for parents at the beginning and end of the year. Mr. Milton’s not only my faculty advisor, he’s also our fraternity advisor. He’s really a great guy. How do I tell him I am not sure about criminal justice?
Looking down from my room, I see a lot. No one notices I’m watching. Is that how God is? Does God snoop around and watch people, like ants, screw up their lives? Does God ever do anything, or just watch? The October sun is shining on the bright-colored maple leaves. Then they fall off. Life goes on.
Next year I won’t see these leaves, in this back yard, from this room. School will be finished. Another chapter of my life. This won’t be my room. Where will I be? What will I do? I’ve played football for four years in high school and four years in college. Is there life after football? I’m too old to live with my parents. It doesn’t feel like home – not to stay – not anymore. It feels like a place to visit. It’s not going that well with Sarah. My friends from high school are scattered. My fraternity brothers and friends from this university are going to move all over, following jobs. Some are engaged to get married. Some will go on to graduate school. I can’t imagine life after football.
“Here’s your deodorant.” Black Jack’s voice startled me as he came in the door. He could tell I was lost in thought. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure,” I lied.
How do you tell your friends that, for the first time in your life you don’t have a plan? How do you get a plan? How do people find a direction? Is it just dumb luck? Fate? God?
If it’s God…? The question stalled in my mind. It seemed – for a moment – the whole world stood still. I looked out the window at the people in the back yard. A couple of my fraternity brothers were firing up the grill and popping a couple of Budweisers. Black Jack was walking out my bedroom door.
“Hey, Black Jack,” I said.
“Yeah,” he turned around.
“See you tonight at Skip’s?”
“Yeah, sure – some of the guys are going to hang out around 9:30?”
“That’s cool,” I said, as Black Jack disappeared down the hall.
I got to thinking…. The parties are getting a little old. Don’t get me wrong, I like hanging out with my friends. It is probably my favorite thing to do. And I like having a few beers – especially with chicken wings. I like the hot sauce…real hot…the best. That, and a cold beer – that’s awesome! Yeah, I drink too much. I get drunk…sometimes. Why? Who knows?
Partying, school, and football – that’s all we do. Last year, on spring break, I drove my car, full of guys, all the way from northern Indiana to South Padre Island, straight through. Man, that’s a long trip. We got a good deal on a place at the beach. It was really cool. That’s about all we did: lie out in the sun, party, and drink beer. I can’t do this the rest of my life. There must be more. And…football will soon be gone. There must be something for me. How do you find that?
I feel empty.
The Saturday afternoon sun feels so warm in my room. I’ve got homework to do. It can wait. Screw it. It’s only Saturday, I can do it tomorrow.
So here I am, lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I’ve never noticed all the cracks in the paint before. This old house has been around a long time. It used to be a hotel, they say. This is the last year for it. They’re going to tear it down and build a new one, next summer. Nothing lasts forever.
I won’t last forever. My grandpa died a few years ago. I cried my eyes out. I didn’t want to – not around anybody. But I did. I couldn’t help it. He was my first relative who died, that I was old enough to know what was going on. He was my mom’s dad. He was a gentle man and a strong Christian, too. He and my grandma were always at church. More than that, it was real to him. You could tell. He lived it…walked the talk. You know?. He didn’t just go through the motions.
My grandpa’s death hit me hard. I think sometimes my friends and I get the idea we’re going to live forever. We all know that’s bullshit. Everybody dies. Life’s short. It seems long – especially during exams. Or when you’re 21 points behind in the fourth quarter and the other team’s kicking your ass all over the field. But nothing lasts forever. I won’t last forever.
I haven’t prayed for a long time. I prayed only at church, sort of. I didn’t want to offend my parents. But I haven’t been to church in a while. And truth is, I don’t pray much. I don’t get it. I mean, I don’t know why people do. Do they think it makes any difference? Hell, I don’t even know if I believe God exists.
I stared at the ceiling for a long time. The voices from the back yard drifted from my consciousness. I don’t know how it happened. I just started talking to God…or at the ceiling. “God, I don’t know what to do with my life. I’m messed up. I don’t even know if you’re real. I mean, honestly, I don’t know if you even exist. If you exist, show me. And give me some kind of direction. I’ve got no clue.”
The sun was still warm. I must have fallen asleep. I like to sleep. You don’t have to think. I think I dreamed about high school…a less complicated time.
****
It was just after graduation from high school. I had an awesome senior year. I never did become a star at football. I like the “family feel” of the team. It’s like a community! Coach awarded me the mental attitude award. I remember my parents thinking it was a big deal. The coach said, in front of the whole auditorium, it was the best award, because there is “life after football.” Whatever.
I applied to Tri-State University and got accepted. My grades weren’t the best in high school – but good enough to get in. During my senior year, I met Mr. Milton. He was teaching a criminal justice class at the police station in Kendallville. It was only for seniors. We got “release time” for a whole afternoon, a couple of days each week, to go to this class. It counted for college credit, too. A girl in my class talked me into it. I liked getting out of school for “release time.” It’s the main reason I went.
Mr. Milton took a liking to me right away. It wasn’t like there was a lot of competition. Most of the kids who took that class weren’t bound for college. They were headed for the police academy. But not me. College was always my option.
My parents have a lot of education. My mom has a master’s degree. She’s a teacher in a preschool. My dad has two doctorates. He jokes about it – says he’s a slow learner. He does have ADD. That’s where both my sister, Laura, and I got it – from him. Laura has her master’s degree in special education. Yeah, college, from the beginning, has been on my family’s agenda.
I don’t know if Mr. Milton had some influence with my acceptance to Tri-State or not. When I met him, he was an attorney who taught high school kids on the side. Later, I learned, he had a job offer to teach criminal justice at Tri-State. Anyway, I got accepted.
I really wanted to go to Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana. Some of my friends went there. I thought we could really party. My parents thought that, too. They figured I needed more structure. They met Mr. Milton and he told them he would be my advisor. Tri-State was more expensive, but they wanted to make sure I finished. They thought Mr. Milton would help me through.
The best part for me was that Tri-State had a football team. Being a smaller school, I had a chance to make the team. Ball State was huge. The competition would probably leave me behind. It seemed like a good choice. It was closer to home. I wasn’t sure how it would feel being further away. Besides, I knew the Tri-State campus. During my high school basketball days, I went to Tri-State basketball camp every summer. One year, I went to three camps in a row! I wonder where I picked up that over-achiever mentality?
It was great to graduate. I liked DeKalb High School in a lot of ways. It was a good school for me. I made a lot of really good friends there. Nick, Nate, Mackenzie, Tommy – dozens more, even a few girls. Yeah – these will be my best friends forever. Yeah, these relationships. That’s what life’s all about. But I’m ready to move on.
I got a job at Home Depot and I’m working on my parent’s farm. At Home Depot, I stock shelves and help customers. I’m learning about construction. I like being involved with people, and the variety of jobs. It doesn’t get boring. I go to the gym and lift weights every day. On the farm, I’m helping in a lot of ways, too. The farm is a great place. I shot my first deer when I was 9. I’ve gotten several since.
I’m a little nervous about going to college. But I’m excited about playing football. I’m reporting to football camp on August 1, so it’ll be a short, busy summer. I’ll earn as much money as I can. I’m ready for that.
My dad left after my graduation on another trip. He travels a lot, helping churches. He’s called the “Church Doctor.” He knows a lot about all kinds of churches, and goes all over the world. He’s written several books. I have them all, but I’ve never read any of them. I don’t like to read. I read just what I have to, to get by in school.
My dad’s in England right now. Some friend of his – a pastor named Walt from a huge church in Phoenix – suggested he go and check out what’s happening with Christianity there. It’s supposed to be a big deal. Attracting a lot of young adults. If it is, I’m guessing they don’t have much to do. Maybe they’re so bored they go to church. My dad took four pastors with him. A medical doctor friend of his helped pay his way. Imagine that! This doctor operated on my dad’s sinuses a few years ago. It turns out he’s a Christian who’s excited about missions – reaching new people. So he helps my dad, financially.
My dad raises his own salary. What’s up with that? He works way too hard, in my opinion. His Board of Directors sets his salary and then he has to find people who will support our family. He’s been doing this for years – before I was born. It’s weird. It seems like begging. I can’t believe people do it. Maybe they’re just rich and can’t figure out what to do with their spare money. I don’t have that problem. That’s why I’m working my butt off.
I am really liking my two jobs, though. I like seeing some money in my bank account. I need to buy some clothes. My mom’s off for the summer from teaching. She’s very supportive. She does all the shopping in our house – except for farm stuff. She’s a good cook and you can tell she loves me and my sister.
My sister’s in her last year of college, starting this fall. This summer she’s working at Bob Evans. She’s a hard worker,. We go there and eat. We take my grandparents. I’ve never eaten so often at Bob Evans before. My parents and grandparents give her huge tips – about as much as the meal costs. They’re generous people.
“What you doing, Jon?” my mom asked as she came into the kitchen.
“I’m making a sandwich. I’m taking a little break before I go out and mow the field across the pond.”
“Your dad’s coming home from England tomorrow night. Think you’d like to go along and pick him up at the airport?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Maybe we could stop and get a burger after we pick him up?”
I’m always hungry. I could never guess what my dad would report about what happened in England. I couldn’t imagine how it would reorganize my whole life four years later.
****
My dad arrived at the Fort Wayne Airport about 9:30 p.m. I spotted him coming down the escalator. He looked tired, but he had a smile of enthusiasm. “It must have been a good trip,” I thought. I had no idea!
I was in England quite a few years earlier, when I was 12. It was after the mission trip in Africa and the wildebeest hunt. We flew to London from Johannesburg. My mom and Laura met us at Heathrow Airport in London. They used my dad’s gazillion frequent flier miles. We spent a week in England before traveling throughout the continent of Europe. We visited Bath and Stonehenge while we were in England, too. I remember, at Stonehenge, my dad just sat on a bench forever trying to contemplate what it could be all about. It must be his consultant’s curiosity. I thought we would never leave!
My favorite part of England was the original Hard Rock Café. Some man served us, wearing a dress. My sister and I had done some homework about England. Well, most of it was Laura. She found out that London is where they built the very first Hard Rock Café. She also found out, somehow, that kids can drink one beer, when they are with their parents, at a restaurant or pub. So when we got to the Hard Rock Café, we ordered burgers and Laura and I ordered a beer. My parents were shocked! They said, “You can’t do that.” Then they looked at the man in the dress, “They can’t do that…can they?” Yeah, we got the beers. We found out neither of us liked beer – at least at that age.
“How was England?” I asked my dad.
“It was unbelievable,” he said.
I thought he was in London, but he wasn’t. He was in the north. A place called Sheffield. “I never heard of it,” I said.
“Neither had I,” he explained. “My friend, Walt, was the one who insisted that, with my work helping churches, I had to see what was going on there.”
“So, what was it like?” my mom asked, as we got in the car to leave the airport.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” Dad said, with more excitement than any person should have after a long trip. “You know, I’ve been all over the world – Asia, South America, Africa, Europe, India, Philippines, and the former Soviet Union. I’ve seen some exciting places where God is really changing lives. But I have never seen anything like this. It blew me away, the way God is impacting the lives of the people through this movement.”
“What’s the name of the church?” my mom asked. She can’t keep track of all the places he goes, either.
“It’s St. Thomas’ Anglican/Baptist Church,” he said. “I know it’s kind of weird. It’s a combination of an Anglican church – as in the Church of England – and a Baptist church. And, they gather in two different locations, in two different parts of the city. But both are Anglican/Baptist churches.”
“What makes it so special?” my mom asked. She’d heard my dad’s excitement about churches before.
He tried to explain. “It’s the culture. They have the closest thing to the culture of the New Testament Church I’ve ever seen anywhere. It’s part of their DNA. They behave like the people of the Bible, in the early church – more than I have ever seen.”
I joked, “I knew you were old, Dad! You knew people in Bible?”
“Funny, Jon,” he said. “No. But if you look at how the church grew – changed the world, impacted the Roman Empire. The way these early Christians lived. Their behavior was driven by their culture: their values, beliefs, priorities, attitudes, and worldviews. That culture is what we help churches get back to. It’s what really changes churches for good. The modern church has drifted so far….”
My attention span ran out at that point. My dad is the master of TMI – too much information! He had moved to lecture mode. He gets too excited about God stuff. But then he got my attention in a way that had never, ever, happened before.
“Something else happened while I was there. I stayed with Mick, one of the pastors, and his wife. One day Mick and I were having breakfast at his house and we were talking about…I don’t even know what!” My dad paused trying to find the words. “I heard God speak to me. It was clear, and audible.”
I’d never heard my dad talk like that before!
He continued, “The voice…God said, ‘You should bring groups from North America here. This is a movement. It is as much caught as taught. They are like vessels. They can carry this movement back to North America.’”
I thought, “That’s cool, now my dad’s hearing voices. I wonder what he had for breakfast.” I was skeptical and totally unprepared for what he said next.
“Simultaneous to that,” he said, “I got another, totally unexpected message. God said, ‘You are supposed to bring your son here – soon, and Pastor Bob.’”
At this point, I was thinking my dad totally lost it. It is one thing if God wants to talk to him, or if he thinks God is talking to him. But what does that have to do with me? And what’s the deal with Pastor Bob from our church? What’s up with that?
I just thought to myself, this is a long way from normal. People don’t just “hear from God.” My dad then said he had never had that happen before. It seemed so strange, even to him.
Before I could ask, my dad explained, “I didn’t know what to think. So I told Mick: ‘I think God just spoke to me.’”
Dad said he was uncomfortable sharing that with Mick, since they did not know each other very well.
“So, what did Mick say?” my mom asked.
“He said, ‘If God told you, then you better do it,’” my dad said. “But, I said, ‘Why? Why would God want me to do that?’ Mick just said, ‘You don’t always know why. Sometimes that’s not your job. Just be faithful to what God says.’ So, I’m telling you. And tomorrow I’ll talk with Pastor Bob.”
Personally, I wondered what planet this guy Mick was from. What kind of church was this? I figured it would never happen. The money had to be raised. As for me, it was just a few weeks before I was off to football camp. My dad understood the skepticism and used the old line, “If God is in it, it’ll happen.”
A week later, Dad had a luncheon appointment with his medical doctor friend. He was going to thank him for sponsoring his trip and report about it. It was a Tuesday, my day off at Home Depot. I was working on the farm and had just come in for lunch. We met in the kitchen. Seeing me, Dad got a last-minute idea and invited me to go along to lunch. I never turn down a free lunch.
At Applebee’s, Dad introduced me to Dr. Bill. My dad told the story of all he saw in Sheffield. He even told him the God-talking story. He told him he had a short window of time to take me to England. In addition, he told Dr. Bill that Pastor Bob would like to take his daughter, Alicia. I was surprised the doctor didn’t think my dad was a lunatic. Instead, he reached into his suit coat pocket, pulled out a checkbook and wrote a check for $5,000: for Dad, me, Pastor Bob, and Alicia to go to England! I couldn’t believe it.
****
Chapter Six - A Word Is Planted
There I was, a few weeks before I reported to football camp, on my way to England for…God-only-knows-what. I figured, I get to quit work a couple of weeks early, take a trip to a part of England I’ve never seen – all at the expense of Dr. Bill, who I spent a total of 45 minutes with at lunch. Why not?
We arrived in Manchester, England, and took the train across to Sheffield. There I met Mick, and his wife and daughter. Alicia and I stayed at the house of a young couple from the church. Pastor Bob stayed with someone else and my dad stayed, again, with Mick and his family. The young couple took Alicia and me all over Sheffield. It’s a good sized city, with several universities, typical narrow British streets, a large number of clubs that attract university students, and, of course, thousands of pubs!
I really liked the people we met. I’ve never seen people my age so excited to be Christians. They seemed genuine, too. They were not religious fanatics, or weird. They seemed like normal people, but there was something very different about them. They had it together, you know what I mean? They have challenges in life like everybody, but they seem to have purpose, direction. They actually like going to church – it didn’t even seem like a duty.
I met some university students who were from around England. They had found summer jobs in Sheffield. Even though their parents were far away, they were involved in this church – and wanted to be. That seemed strange to me, for some reason.
My dad is always trying to help churches reach out to people who aren’t Christians. But, these people seem to do it because they actually like to. It seems part of their life. They also have a good time doing it.
My youth pastor, Eric, was a bit like that. I thought he was enthusiastic because it was his job – you know, he had to put on a good act in front of the kids like me at the church. Yet, he seemed genuine enough. I never met anyone else like that. The last thing I expected was to find others like him in England.
We got to visit the countryside, what they call the Peak District. It’s beautiful. Large rolling hills, reservoirs, forests, and English villages with old churches and little shops. We even got to see Little John’s grave – you know, the guy who hung out with Robin Hood? We also got into some pubs and had some great meals. Pubs are not like bars in the U.S. They’re more family-friendly. They’re places where you watch sports, talk to your neighbors, and strangers become friends. It’s all about relationships. I like that. Pubs are neighborhood gathering places – community halls with food and beer. They don’t feel like commercial destinations. They’re more a part of life.
Somewhere in this whirlwind introduction to Sheffield and St. Thomas’ Church, I met a few young adults who are involved in what they call FORM. I had no idea what this would mean for my life four years later.
It’s funny. Sometimes you do something, or meet someone, and it just seems like another everyday occurrence – nothing special. I mean no bells or whistles go off, the earth doesn’t shake, no lightning. It’s just like another day of life, another person you meet, another place you visit. Something you’ll maybe forget. You might take some pictures, and look at them once or twice, maybe post them on Facebook. Someday you throw them away. They are just more clutter in your journey.
Then there are these…I don’t know…“God moments.” They seem just so ordinary, nothing special. You have no clue then – and maybe for a long time in the future. At the time, you’re not even aware. You’re not ready. The dots are not connected. You don’t even see the dots. That’s because you’re not looking. I wasn’t looking.
My eyes were on football, criminal justice, a fraternity. It was just days from my university adventure. I had no idea that the embryo of my greatest journey was birthed as I met these students in FORM. No idea at all.
FORM is a 10-month training program for young adults. At Mick’s church, it’s for those just out of university – a year off before the job market. My first thought, when I met Ben and Andy, was why, after four years of university, would anyone want to go through another year of school – especially a religious school?
“It’s not like that,” said Ben, “…not at all. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had.”
Andy added, “You go to the university as an investment in your career. But you take ten months of FORM to let God invest in you, as a person. That changes everything.”
“Yeah,” continued Ben, “It’s a discipleship year. You learn more about who God really is. You also learn who He has made you to uniquely be. You learn about yourself.”
“Don’t you think everyone already gets that?” I asked politely.
“Not at all!” said Ben. “Most people only think they know who they are. They learn all this stuff at university, but they never asked God to teach them about themselves. Besides, we do hands-on ministry. We get involved in helping the poor, working with children, interacting with other cultures, connecting with university students. Most people go through life and never get those experiences. Yeah, and we have a lot of fun along the way. We live together in community: guys are in two houses and the girls share a couple of houses. We become family. We go on mission excursions around the country and take a trip outside of the country together. It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do FORM.”
I have to admit, I was momentarily intrigued. When Alicia and I saw my dad and Pastor Bob at Mick’s house a couple of days later, I made an announcement: “I know we’re supposed to go back home tomorrow, but I have a few days before football camp. Alicia and I have decided to stay here in England and hang out with these people. We’ll come home later, okay?”
I saw my dad look at Pastor Bob, who looked at him. Then they looked at Mick, who looked at each of them, and then they looked at each other again. It was a long silence, like everybody just discovered a pink elephant in the room. I think the pink elephant was me and it just took a dump! I could tell the idea wasn’t going to fly.
My dad broke the silence, “That won’t work. It would cost a fortune to change your tickets. Besides, you might not get on another plane. Planes are really booked going overseas. Besides, you need to finish the work on the farm, pack, and move to school.”
The comment broke the dream into pieces of reality. I knew he was right. I felt a little foolish. Mick added, “You’ll be back someday.”
As we said goodbye, Mick prayed over us. He paused, put his hands on my shoulders, and said, “I have a word from God for you, Jon. I sense God is saying that you are a mighty warrior for God.”
I was speechless.
****
Chapter Seven - University: S.W.A.T. or What?
On the train from Sheffield to Manchester Airport, I could tell my dad was having some kind of religious buzz about this “word from God” about me being a “mighty warrior for God.” He even asked me what I thought about it.
“Yeah, what was that all about?” I asked. It seemed a bit strange to me and really irrelevant. I would have gone for something like, “God has big plans for you in football. You will be recruited on a scholarship to a Division 1 school. You will be drafted in the second round of the NFL draft.” Ok, maybe that would be a little unrealistic. But a “mighty warrior for God” was not even on my radar screen…yet.
My car was packed full of stuff for school. I moved into the freshman dorm the night before football camp began on August 1. “My life is changing, a new chapter of history,” I thought to myself. It was scary, but I felt a sense of personal graduation. Not just beyond high school, but life on my own – out of my parents’ house. All of a sudden it became real: “I actually made it to college.” That was my happy thought. On the reality side was uncertainty, “Can I make it through?”
“Hi, my name is Jon. I’m your roommate,” I said as I carried my first box into my first home away from home.
“Hey, I’m Greg,” he replied. We shook hands and he introduced his parents who had just finished helping him move in.
“You on the football team?” I asked. He had to be. No one comes to school a month early. “What position do you play?” I asked.
Greg responded, “I’m an offensive guard.”
We talked about where we were from, and a little about our high schools. That was our transition conversation to a new world.
About four weeks after school started, I learned about Greg’s priorities. His first priority was Melinda, his girlfriend from high school who also came to Tri-State. His second priority was football. A distant third was getting an education.
Greg’s and my relationship began with tension about the fifth week into the new semester. He asked me to move out so Melinda could sleep in. I didn’t want to rat on him. There’s a certain code of loyalty on football teams, and he was taking full advantage of it…and me. I ended up sleeping on a couch in another room of football players. But my computer and desk were in my room. It was an awkward scene, and it started to affect my grades.
I was home one weekend and told my parents. They reacted more strongly than I thought. They said, “We’re paying for your room so you can get an education, not so Greg can have sex.” I went to my advisor, Mr. Milton. He said I had to confront Greg, myself, first. Then I could get help from the dorm leader, if that didn’t work. I didn’t want to do it, but I did.
As it turned out, Greg was failing his classes. He and his girlfriend left school. There were others who also dropped out along the way. It was harder than I thought. So was football. But I loved it! I began thinking about joining a fraternity the next year. And I did!
The first two years of college were mostly general classes. My major focused on criminal justice but I also took a lot of extra psychology classes – almost enough for a double major. I got a part-time job working for a social agency. They called it supervised visitation for fathers or mothers who wanted to visit their kids. They were divorced or separated. Most had criminal records and were not allowed to be alone with their children unless supervised. I was a supervisor. One parent would drop off the kids at the agency and would leave. Then the other would arrive and would spend time with the kids while I watched. It was an interesting experience. I learned a lot.
For a while, in the wide range of choices of criminal justice, I thought it would be cool to be part of the S.W.A.T. team. Then I met someone who strongly encouraged me not to do that. She claimed it wrecked their marriage for her husband to be in that stressful world. It changed my mind. My mom was glad – she was worried about my safety.
Then I thought I’d go into the juvenile part of criminal justice. But the more I got into it, the more uncertain I became. Toward the end of my second year, I began to focus on more criminal justice courses. Some were better than others. We had a few field trips and some hands-on demonstrations. When we learned about tasers, I volunteered to be tased. I wouldn’t recommend it!
Meanwhile, the partying continued. The beer flowed. I had great times with my friends. I worked really hard at my schoolwork– especially certain courses. Some were harder than others. I got fairly good grades.
By the beginning of my fourth year, I was sure of several things: I wanted to finish school and get the degree. And I would work to finish well. I would try not to get hung up about my future career. I would try not to beat myself up because of my doubts that criminal justice – at least that was the theory.
In practice, I felt like I was in crisis mode. I didn’t know what I was going to do. Other students were already having job interviews. That’s when I prayed and asked God to show me that He was real. I laid on my bed, stared at the ceiling. I asked God to give me some direction.
Then I fell back asleep, the warm summer sun bathing me in friendliness. I became oblivious to the growing party in the back yard. I didn’t wake up until 4:30 that afternoon. It was time to take a shower and clean up. The party is beginning to take off, and I need to grab some dinner. The guys are going to meet at Skip’s at 9:30 p.m. The night is young! I’m unsettled. But I’ll push on. I’ll get through school. Even if I don’t know…for what.
****
Chapter Eight - Does God E-mail?
The week at school was hard. About every course had tests or papers due. On Saturday morning, our football team lost a tight battle with a school from Wisconsin. It was a home game, too. My parents were there. They’re just about always there. I played only a few minutes. My parents don’t seem to care. They love football. They love me. I hope I can be a parent like that.
We went out for lunch after the football game. My parents like to treat me to a nice meal. I tried to be positive about my struggle. I didn’t say anything about my anxiety – not knowing what to do with my life. Actually, I was so busy with school and football I didn’t have much time or energy to think about it.
My parents didn’t ask me about church the next day. I appreciated the space. I didn’t need the hassle. But I thought about going. I wondered, since I asked God for direction, should I go to church? I was bargaining with God. It seemed logical, sort of a divine/human form of “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”
My parents left and I went to a party that night. It was a great party at the sorority down the street. They always have good parties. I got in about 3:30 a.m. I didn’t go to church the next day. I didn’t even think about it.
On Thursday, I got an e-mail. It wasn’t just any e-mail. It wasn’t from my parents, or sister and brother-in-law, or any friend from high school or around Tri-State. It was from Mick – the pastor in England. You know, the one who had the “word from the Lord,” the one who said, “You will be a mighty warrior for God.” I couldn’t believe it! It was three and a half years ago that I was in England with my dad, Pastor Bob, and Alicia.
At first, I couldn’t believe Mick even remembered who I was. Then, I thought about my dad. He takes groups over there every June for about a week. It was then I wondered if my dad and Mick had talked and planned the e-mail.
Mick didn’t say anything about my dad. He challenged me to pray and ask God if He would direct me to apply to take FORM, in England, the following September – for 10 months. This was a few days after I prayed to God to show me if He was real, to give me a sign. To provide for me a direction. Was that spooky, or what? I told no one about my prayer – not even my parents. No one! Could this be a coincidence? What should I do?
I called home that Thursday night. My dad was in town and both of my parents were on the phone. I told them I got an e-mail from Mick. My dad was surprised.
“Really,” he said, “from Mick? What for? What did he say?”
“He wants me to think about applying to take FORM next September in England,” I said.
“Really?” my mom returned.
My dad added, “You know, every year I take that group to England. I stay with Mick and his family. He always asks about our family, and every year he asks where you are in school – what year. This last June I told him you were entering your last year. But that was the end of the conversation. He never said another word. I thought he was just being polite. He asked about mom, Laura, and Jason, too. He always does – but that’s all he says. I always ask about his family, too.”
My parents were totally surprised. I was shocked. Mick suggested I go to the website and check it out. Now, suddenly, I had a whole new set of issues to think about.
My dad said, “Just pray about it. Do what God leads you to do.”
Normally, I would have said something like, “How does that work?” But, unknown to my parents, or anyone, I had just prayed several days earlier – and then this – right out of nowhere…or, maybe not!
What do you do when a God-event occurs? I had no practice at this sort of thing. I didn’t want to go to my parents – “they want me to do anything that’s Christian” – I thought. I did decide to pray about it. It seems odd, because I had no other ideas about what to do with my life. But maybe something else would come up.
It was a lot to think about. How do you know if you are doing what God wants? Or is there anything God really wants you to do or not do? I mean, besides not killing someone or stealing – all that stuff in the Ten Commandments. What about normal stuff? Does God even care what you do? And, if God cares, how do you know? Even if FORM was a great thing to do, how do I know it’s a good thing for me? And how do I know it’s the right time for me to do it now, and not some other time? After the phone call with my parents, I fell asleep thinking about all this.
Going to England for a couple of weeks, seeing the wax museum, riding the London Eye Ferris Wheel, seeing the Big Ben clock, visiting Westminster Abbey, that’s one thing. It’s a different thing to go to Sheffield (where all that good stuff isn’t) and stay there for 10 months! That’s just about a whole year! No going home for the weekend!
If that’s not enough, I thought about the religious part of it. Am I ready for that? I remembered – three and a half years ago – talking to Andy and Ben, who took FORM. They were on the streets praying with homeless people and loved it! That scares the crap out of me. I didn’t know if I was ready for that. Who is? Would I ever be? You can’t go try it out for a week – it’s a 10-month deal. When I was there, I was with my dad, Alicia, and Pastor Bob. No one I know would be there except for the few people I met. I am guessing they go to church every Sunday. I haven’t done that for years. My mind was racing.
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Chapter Nine - Life at the Crossroads
I looked at the FORM website and put the idea in the back of my mind – for months. I focused on football. But, at the end of the season, I started thinking about it again. What would I do next year?
It’s a big decision to take 10 months out of your life. If you live to be 70, that’s 1 percent of your life. On the other hand, look how much time you spend preparing to make a living. When I saw Andy and Ben, and other young adults, they were talking about an experience where they invested 10 months, not to make a living, but to discover life.
My mind was rambling with these questions as I made my way to see Mr. Milton. He wanted me to go to grad school in Florida. Maybe he would talk me out of it. We spend so much time filling our heads. We focus so much effort on filling our stomachs. What do we put into filling our hearts, our character, who we are, and all we can become? Heck, that’s too philosophical. But, deep down, I was really wondering: who am I? What is my purpose in life? Where is life – for me?
One of the reasons Criminal Justice seemed so attractive was that I wanted to make a difference. This world is full of bad people who do terrible things. They deserve justice. Those who are called to that career really help. But they’re dealing with the symptoms.
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