A Note to My Faith (Pt. 1)
Part 1 of a lifelong journey dedicated to my relationship with Jesus
Hi There 👋
I’m thrilled you made your way into this post, as it is the most important thing I have written. I am finishing up a season of personal writing that I have been wanting to do since I began writing online (you can find previous posts in my Substack feed!). As July marks my 2-year milestone of writing online, I’m thankful to all who have read and encouraged me to continue writing. It’s this determination to keep writing that has no doubt led me to share my faith testimony.
I’m truly humbled that you’re here to read this. I pray you find some encouragement through a little bit of my story!
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ACTS 22:1-21 - Paul chooses his final address to the people of Jerusalem to be a detail of his conversion to following Jesus. Paul preached several sermons and wrote many letters to the early churches that ended up being scripture! But still, he wanted his last spoken message to be his testimony. We need the authenticity of Paul right now more than ever. We don't need another person in our lives to lecture us. We need more people to relate to, more people to endure the hardships, more people to say: Hey, I'm broken too. Come, sit at the table where you can lay down your exhaustion and burden, and you will find rest.
I started this post a little over a year ago. I had no clue where it would go, but the more I wrote, the more I slowly began to agonize over these words. Not in a "Woe is me! Look at how holy I am! This post is so hard … ugh!" sense but in a "How in the world am I called to write this?" sense. It certainly would be much easier to not write this post and avoid stepping out in faith. For the past couple of months, a voice in my head has kept saying:
Stop. Stop. Stop. You're comfortable where you are. Don't you want to keep that comfort? Why would you want to rock the boat now? Just stay put. You've got several years to do this… Enjoy your 20s.
This post would certainly not be possible if I did not get out of my comfort zone the past few years - especially in writing. Those thoughts are just Satan trying to ensure I seek comfort, which I did for many years. I don't crave comfort anymore, but I would be lying if I said this post didn't push my comfort zone to the limit. It's heinous to say, but being a Christian in 2022 can be uncomfortable. I want to abolish this discomfort forever with this post.
So what is this post about?
Ironically, this post is about me. I could write the most elegant, Biblically-based post, yet most of you would not make it past the first paragraph. I don't think I would read it, either. Anytime I see a Christian social media post, it's like a race to see how fast I can scroll past it. I unconsciously think, "Ahh, I know Proverbs 3… umm… whatever the verse is. Thanks." Only to get to a meaningless sports tweet. Unfortunately, Christian content receives the cold shoulder.
Like the apostle Paul, I believe the best way to spread the message of Jesus is by how you live your life. Since we are all sinners living in a broken world, everyone has a redemption story. People want to find commonality in the struggle. Why are documentaries so popular? Because we are amazed by what humans (a.k.a., you) can accomplish. Why does Hollywood keep chasing after the next true, feel-good story? For the same reason.
While it might not be fit for the big screen, maybe my personal triumphs through Jesus can impact someone. If one paragraph, sentence, or word speaks to you, then this post will have done its job. On the other hand, this is the most vulnerable post I have ever written. In unimaginable ways, writing this has allowed me to reflect on my walk with Jesus, and He's shown me what He has and will continue to accomplish through me. This isn't a call for wholesale change in your life; that is not how I was touched by the Holy Spirit (although the Holy Spirit is capable of slow and fast conversion - Acts 26:29). It's more of an example of how gradually implementing the practices of Jesus has impacted me.
What is this post not about?
This post is not a scholarly dissertation about Christianity or the church. I'm the furthest thing from being Biblically superior to anyone, so you don't have to worry about any complex logic. It is not a utopian illustration of how it's so easy to follow Jesus and how my life was suddenly a breeze. Alternatively, it is not a message of immense struggle and the mountains I constantly face in life.
On a personal note, this post is not me saying:
I have it all figured out
I am telling you what to do
I am 100% satisfied with everything in my life
I am better than you
I am receiving something exclusive that you can't have
I am living a better life
I am no longer friends with you
I don't have time for you
I don't want to know you unless you believe what I believe
I am separated from you
This post is me telling you:
You have the freedom to accept everything He has to offer, and I want to help you by telling you about my journey.
That's all.
Human Forgiveness
Do you want to hear a story about how Davis "messed up"? It was freshman year of college, and I was enjoying all the newness that came with an SEC school: people, football games, all-you-can-eat buffets, endless free time, "attendance is optional," and parties (I didn't think we would begin here, either).
My roommates and I were leaving a party and heading back to our dorm. No one wanted to walk a mile to get back, so we stopped a girl getting into her car and asked if we could have a ride. She looked older and was carrying a backpack in casual clothes - clearly not amused by the Fraternity rush party down the street. She responded with the false sympathy of:
"Aww, are y'all baby freshmen?"
"Yes! How'd you know?" we innocently responded. Visibly irritated, she agreed, and we piled into her sedan for her new detour to the freshman dorms.
The following day, my roommates and I woke up for what would be my year-long Groundhog's Day: An all-you-can-eat breakfast at the freshman cafeteria. There was one problem on this particular morning. When I reached for my wallet, it wasn't there. Uhh Ohh.
When you lose something, immediately, you start asking yourself more questions than an abstract podcast host. Where did I have it last? What was my last purchase? When do I last remember touching it? After retracing my steps around campus, I was stumped. Then it hit me. It must have fallen out in the girl's car last night. Boom! But, wait… who is she?
I remembered her first name and the sorority she said she was in, so it was up to social media to do its thing. After hours of searching, I had no luck. On the brink of giving up, I walked into the lobby of my dorm and heard the front desk girl mention she was in the sorority my driver was in. I rushed to the front desk and described the girl that drove me home. The front desk girl was apprehensive but lamented and gave me the driver's phone number.
I called the number, and the conversation led to her finding my wallet in her back seat. I told her I would be at her apartment shortly to pick it up. When I got there, she opened the door, and about ten girls were sitting in the living room laughing at my situation. Humiliated at what was to come, they made me answer questions about myself to get my wallet. I couldn't get out of there quick enough.
I remember feeling immensely relieved to return to my dorm and lie in bed. I slowly fell asleep, reassuring myself that I could forget about this whole day of anxiety-filled worry: Alright, Davis, that was a close one, but all is well, no harm, no foul. Just be more careful next time. Soon enough, I would be ready to put myself in the position to mess up again - and again - and again.
The Active Improvement Line
For the number of times I have messed up, how am I still here? Meaning, how do I have a job, a house, family, friends, a car, plenty of groceries, and money to live on? On a run the other day, my friend and I passed a homeless person in horrible shape. We both asked, "How do you get to that point?" Yes, it might be inconceivable and somewhat cliche, but we've all asked this question: How is my life where it is, and I am not someone who is passed out on the street? The answer can be found in the act of forgiveness.
I'm baffled at how much forgiveness I am given. Whenever my behavior has stretched my family, they have forgiven me. Whenever I have wronged a friend, they almost always accept an apology. Whenever I halfway do an assignment at work, and my managers are displeased, they take the time to coach me and give me a second chance. Even when I'm not worthy of forgiveness, people give it to me.
If forgiveness was withheld, my parents would have disowned me; my brothers wouldn't care for me; I'd be trying to make new friends all the time; I'd constantly be looking for a new job; my roommates would have moved out; I wouldn't have a church; heck, even my dog would have left. Not to mention, if there was no self-forgiveness, I would have probably harmed myself by now.
Thus, I have come to the shocking revelation that society is exceptional at forgiveness.
That's not to say that some things aren't always forgivable. I've been at fault for a few busted friendships, a breakup, burned a bridge with an employer, and a handful of scenarios where I have simply acted out of line and made terrible impressions. Unfortunately, some of those people might object. But most of the time, people are willing to forgive you when you ask for it. Overall, here I sit a quarter of the way through my life with all these mess-ups, and I'm better off because of forgiveness.
Although, there is a dark side to forgiveness. Since we hand forgiveness out so freely, people unknowingly start to use it as a weapon. Ever heard these phrases disguised as asking for forgiveness?
"I didn't know any better." → Forgive me for not caring enough
"What else was I supposed to do?" → Forgive my decision
"It's just the way I am." → Forgive me for not wanting to change
"I'll get it together eventually." → Forgive me while I have fun
Life circumstances crater when family and friends stop guaranteeing forgiveness. Regardless of who is at fault, when you expect to receive forgiveness for your actions, it's jarring when it's not there. Imagine if when you go to pet your dog, it barks at you. That's how it feels when forgiveness is not granted for the first time. To reach this point, one falls below something I'm calling the "active improvement line." In other words, if you're not trying to actively improve misbehavior, the offended party will run out of forgiveness.
The active improvement line is deaf to excuses. It can't comprehend your selfish mind. It no longer can handle your recklessness. If we live life expecting to receive forgiveness below the active improvement line, we live life holding no accountability.
Back to the story of me losing my wallet, I didn't learn a lesson. I expected forgiveness for inconveniencing the girl that drove me home and then granted it to myself because college was new. Then again, no harm, no foul, right? This attitude of expecting people to forgive your inexcusable actions is dangerous. Hand up, I held this sentiment for a long time, and it produced a feeling of entitlement that I should not be held accountable.
In line with the points above, there are two truths to human forgiveness:
The Act of Asking
Voluntary Nature
The Act of Asking
The only option for me as a kid was to have good manners - it was the law. Because I understood the importance of manners to my parents, it almost became a means to an end. I developed the mindset: If I am polite, my parents won't punish me. Although, politeness can be a great deceiver. In the South, adults never graduate from the sentiment that politeness is enough. When that Southern charm hits, everyone forgets the despicable sentence that came mere words before it. I call it the Frank Underwood syndrome, where all the feelings of a cordial interaction cover up any wrongdoing.
We've construed forgiveness as simply being nice, thereby substituting an apology. A majority of the time, when someone is frustrated with me, it's because I didn't take the time to apologize for the inconvenience I caused - big or small. The rationalization goes like this:
Ahh, I know I wronged that person, but I didn't mean it, and they know I didn't mean it, and I feel awful. So let me just be extra nice to them, and then we'll forget about it in a couple of weeks.
Versus what we should say:
Hey, I'm really sorry. I know you might not forgive me instantly but allow me to actively improve this relationship.
The latter is 100x harder, but the act of asking for forgiveness is almost always enough. Instead, we play the mental game of how I can make others forgive me without having to say, "Please forgive me."
We do the same thing with God. I get caught up in lukewarm prayers that assume God has forgiven me, but God wants us to come to Him with a humble heart. That means tearing down the walls of pride and beginning to ask God to forgive us. The act of asking builds a relationship with God, just like it does with your neighbor on earth.
Voluntary
How do we determine who to forgive? Sure, from a Christian standpoint, everyone, but the human tendency is to target people as unforgivable. Even if we're liberal at giving forgiveness, it doesn't mean that it's easy. We all know someone who lives in the no-accountability zone, and we withhold our forgiveness to them.
Conveniently, cutting people out of your life has never been easier. You might run into them once every blue moon, but there aren't many people we need to survive. More often than not, you're going to be just fine in life without that relationship.
Still, they consume our minds more than we think. We continue to view people's lives through a six-inch screen where we hold animosity toward them as we watch them live a certain life. That is why trust is hard to come by in today's world. It doesn't even have to be a big problem anymore. Yet, we can develop little grievances where the offended party has no clue forgiveness is necessary.
"Ugh, they couldn't come to my house the other night, but they are perfectly capable of going on this cabin weekend."
The rules we create on who to forgive and who not to forgive grant us a sense of power. If forgiveness is inevitable, then why not make the other person work for it a little bit? Or worse, make them figure out why they are mad at us.
The voluntary nature of human forgiveness is us making our own rules. It complicates our ability to understand the absolute forgiveness that Jesus offers. I often don't think I deserve His forgiveness because I view it in an earthly context. The undeserving feeling prompts me to remove myself from relationships needing forgiveness, Jesus included.
Jesus' Forgiveness
Humans are on a mission to create lives that avoid as much interpersonal conflict as possible. Put another way, we try to solve any interaction where forgiveness might be necessary:
Virtual work has solved workplace mishaps
Ease of migration has made family distant
The volume of relationships we develop has made close friends rarer
Our commutes are seamless (bed → work → takeout → bed)
Dating doesn't happen face to face
Our social time is online
We mindlessly watch "the next best thing."
The more we solve, the more we lose purpose. Do I need to reiterate all the mental health/depression/anxiety/suicide/psychological/fear/lonely/isolated statistics that plague our society? Or have we heard those enough? We know we live in a very confusing time in human history.
So it only makes sense that the story of Jesus's forgiveness can be viewed as surreal. Remember, this is voluntary forgiveness on God's behalf! Or, as humans know it, something easy to withhold or run from. Jesus could have withheld His grace or run from salvation in an instant. Instead, He endured every human suffering to forgive your sins (and to teach how to love your neighbor better along the way). Jesus portrayed the ultimate image of how to be human in this broken world… Forgive (Luke 23:34). There is no "active improvement line," point too far, or scenario where Jesus has not totally forgiven you - all you have to do is ask for it. Nothing has changed, and nothing ever will.
I wanted to begin with forgiveness because it's the only way that I could write this post. Suppose forgiveness wasn't available from Christ from all of my youth immaturity (and adult immaturity). What would be the reason to ever be a good person? Forgiveness is the ingredient that gives us purpose. When I go through phases of believing I'm not worthy of forgiveness, that is when the doubt begins to creep in:
How could this massive, all-mighty God - that I've been told about my whole life - piece together this elaborate plan to save the universe through his flesh on earth through the forgiveness of my sins? It feels too good to be true.
When I reflect on my life and remember the instances where I did not deserve human forgiveness but was granted it, I can begin to come to grips with a God that is all about the forgiveness of His people, too.
I am worthy to receive this. You are, too.
Chapter 1: Your Sunday Best
Parents
(Note: I genuinely have the best parents in the world. None of my current convictions is possible without the upbringing that I was so fortunate to experience. I can't thank them enough.)
8:00 a.m. - My alarm goes off, playing the Nashville pop music station across my bedroom. Probably a line of a Beyonce song that I race to see how quickly I can turn it off and get back in bed. After the mini heart attack, I shut my eyes and waited for Mom to yell up the stairs...
8:30 a.m.
"Davis!"
"Ma'am?"
"Are you up?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
No, I was indeed not up. Gone are the days of Mom coming to my room to dress me. I rush to take a quick shower (i.e., get my hair a little wet, so it doesn't look like I just got out of bed), brush my teeth, and put on the pressed khakis and polo shirt I have ready. Somehow, I make it downstairs as the first one ready. I grab a pop-tart and turn on ESPN, but it's Sunday and Outside the Lines is on. Oh well, let's see what Mitch Albom has to say about steroids in baseball. Right on cue, my Mom's heels begin to knock on the hardwood. She enters the living room and greets me, "Good morning, baby; how did you sleep? And turn the TV off. We're not starting all of that."
8:45 a.m. - By now, my brothers, my Mom, and I are ready to leave when finally, my Dad emerges from his office. He's in his Sunday best of dress pants, a dress shirt, and the musk of Polo green cologne. As we pile into a Ford Expedition, we all give our two cents on who the late one is. This routine happened throughout my adolescence, but I envision myself here at about 10 years old. I turned on my PSP and nodded to some Christian radio hits (or, if Dad was in an Eagles mood - Peaceful Easy Feeling).
9:15 a.m. - We arrive at the Church of Christ our family attended for about 10 years. I shuffle off to Sunday school class, where it's time to sing a few songs and dive into a story about Daniel in the lion's den for the 3rd time this year. Almost every Sunday morning of my childhood was spent in Sunday school. I could recite the songs, scripture, and Veggie Tales that kids grow up hearing. I would have gotten an A if Sunday school students got a grade.
10:30 a.m. - Worship begins in big service, and our family sits around family friends or our "home group." We would sing a few songs, greet one another, sing a few more songs, take communion, sing another song, listen to the pastor, give money in the contribution, and sing another song on our way out.
12:00 p.m. - If we're lucky, my family is heading out the door at noon to wait 30 minutes for a table at any chain restaurant. The best Sundays were Calhouns or Chili's Sundays.
2:00 p.m. - We arrive home for an afternoon of naps, and me hoping Dad doesn't decide another matter of yard work needs to be addressed (which he usually did himself anyway).
I lay out that schedule as a debt of gratitude to my parents. It would have been a lot easier if we had slept in and "missed just this one Sunday," but we never did. I had no clue about the discipline instilled in me at the time of simply showing up. God can't use you unless you get out of bed, get in your car, and go live life according to His purpose. That's really hard to do watching the 10th re-run of SportsCenter in your living room, which is what I would have chosen to do at 10 years old.
Needless to say, I was not always grateful to be in church. Christianity requires you to say yes to Jesus for yourself. It's about having a relationship with Jesus at your own personal level. You have to get to know Christ's love for you through His death on the cross (Romans 5:8), and then, you can freely give that same love and forgiveness. I always understood this love through how my family treated others.
Although, that's only half of the equation. The other half is understanding the suffering that Christ endured for us (Philippians 3:10). So often, we want to jump straight to the final chapter in the Gospels, where we are saved. While true, it doesn't negate the other chapters in the Gospels where Jesus displays how to endure human suffering on Earth. To fully form a personal relationship with Jesus, I believe you must experience suffering. The wealth creation in America and the technological advancements of society today has made suffering so hard to grasp.
I grew up in a Christian home where my parents provided everything I needed. I always had school supplies, sports gear, video games, fun trips, and everything you can think of to have a happy, healthy childhood. Looking back, I can appreciate my parents' hardships in providing all these things. Still, at the time, I did not grasp the sacrifice of my upbringing. I expected to be well off because it was all I knew.
When you grow up in a nurtured environment protected from the world ("sheltered"), you skip the step of suffering for Christ altogether. My parents solved every problem I faced. That's not to say they didn't discipline me; I was not coddled, but I didn't understand genuine hardship. My faith consisted of running around with the love of Christ and leaving the suffering to my parents.
Spoiler Alert 🚨: My story doesn't end with being sheltered. The movie credits don't roll until the main character overcomes a struggle. Call it what you will (suffering, hurt, pain, etc.); it is inevitable to human existence. You'll go through hard times, and if you've never dealt with them, it will knock you flat on your face - at least that's what it did to me.
The flip side of the coin is asking myself, how will I parent my child? Am I just going to let my kid suffer? Of course not. So then, how do we ensure that we experience Jesus's love for us when human suffering inevitably comes?
The answer lies in the example of the people you put around you. My parents gave the ultimate example of how to handle hardships. If they had approached problems contrary to what Jesus preached, I probably would have lost conviction in my suffering. Instead, I watched them do it in a Christ-like manner and could apply their example to my life. There is an old Navy Seal quote that goes:
Under pressure, you don't rise to the occasion. You default to the level of your training.
When suffering comes, what is your default? Even if I couldn't inherit their faith, I'm so happy that my parents taught me to seek God as my life's default.
Check the Box ☑️
Interestingly, I recall 10 years old as the age to reflect upon. Maybe it's because it was the final year of our family being under the same roof (as my brother would go to college a year later). Still, I believe this was when I began accepting Jesus as my Savior. I would go on to get baptized a few years later at age 12.
I had a sense of accomplishment with getting baptized that I had come to know Jesus and accepted Him - almost like I had reached the apex of my faith. I flipped a switch of Biblical arrogance with a feeling of: Oh, this takes people years to realize, but I already know Jesus died for my sins. It was like a box I checked that said:
Good Forever ✅
Now, I could begin pursuing what I wanted to do with the knowledge that Jesus will always be there. And that is exactly what I did. The following 10 years of my life were quieting Christianity and turning up the volume of Davis Dyer. It was now my time to shine.
As I got into high school, I became a true box-checking Christian. Church was something I did for my parents; youth group wasn't necessary; Bible class in school was a formality. I would begrudgingly sacrifice my time for these things, all to be able to say I was a Christian just in case I needed God. I wore my Sunday best, but it was for Davis Dyer.
Chapter 2: The Excuse Maker
Almost everyone has a time when they are skeptical about Christianity or religion in general. Fortunately, I've never been through a season of skepticism in my belief in Jesus, but I've gone through something arguably worse - a decade of excuse-making. At least in a season of doubt, you come out on the other side convicted. But for excuse-making? You don't ever have to come out at all.
In the Christianity excuse lifestyle, you're constantly bending the rules to do what you want. Allow me to introduce you to my excusatory self (Romans 2:1):
"Oh my, look at what that guy is doing. Sheesh. Well, Jesus, glad I'm not that bad."
"Yeah, I'll look at scripture tomorrow, God, but please let me enjoy tonight."
"I made it to church this week, so I'm good."
"I could be smart Biblically if I wanted to, but God didn't call me to ministry."
"God, please give me a fortune because I know I will use it for good."
"I promise I'll give more later in life when I have money."
"I know I took it too far last night God, but many people took it further. Thankfully, I'm not them."
Notice, this is also bargaining with God. Because we are human, our natural tendency when making deals is to win them. When was the last time your company sent out a memo that said, "We lost 2 deals this week!! Be on the lookout for a reward in the coming days." In every deal that I have ever made with God (e.g., if you let me do/give me __, then I will do __.), I always come out on the winning end. A prime example is the introductory story about me losing my wallet. But the worst excuse I ever made with God is…
"I can quit anytime."
From about age sixteen to twenty-two, time stood still. I was somewhat of an angsty teenager who turned into an arrogant twenty-something-year-old. Since I only cared about myself, I never took the time to notice how others were changing around me. In the same sense, I never viewed myself as changing but stagnant in the "best days of my life."
I bought a ton of stock in believing my college days would be the best days of my life. I figured I would meet many friends, try many new things, adventure far and wide, fall in love, and finish school with a great job. As I sat out on this quest, I found most of what I was looking for.
The more I pursued "the best days of my life," the more I separated myself from God. I didn't want a strong religious faith to get in my way of having fun. I wasn't reckless, so there was no need to worry about protection from God (another bargain I made with Him). I kept God at arm's length because, in my brain, having a close relationship with God meant sacrificing my fun. I continued to put my faith in Jesus but glorified myself.
As I climbed the mountain of the "best days of my life," I was only making the fall harder. The belief that something is the "best ever" is funny because it means everything else is secondary. Like how everyone says your wedding day is the "best day of your life." By that measure, is every other day of marriage worse? Likewise, is time spent with people in your 20s the best and meaningless after that? As I built this time up to be the best, I ended up worshiping it, but what I was worshiping was temporary. It was here today and gone tomorrow.
It's crazy how the "best days of my life" produced one of the strongest feelings of "I can quit anytime." Why would I ever want to quit the best days of my life? Easy, it's temporary and not sustainable. I realized this when I kept waking up with a realization, "what am I doing?" Forget Christianity for a moment; I was a non-contributing zero to society. I had no purpose, drive, or reason to get out of bed. Still, I would quiet this voice in my head and reassure myself that I could quit anytime.
Anxiety
In the book How to Win Friends and Influence People, Dale Carnegie states that we spend about 95% of our time thinking about ourselves. A study from psychologists at Queen's University in Canada found that humans have about 6,000 thoughts per day. If we combine the two studies, we have 5,700 thoughts daily about ourselves.
What do your thoughts about yourself consist of? Is it your recent success at work? The good deed you did for a friend? The time you volunteered for others? Not for me; I typically don't spend many thoughts on positive things I've done. Instead, my thoughts are littered with worry, anxiety, guilt, fear, and all the insecurities imaginable. The more I age, the more worries I have. It's not a cry for help but a reminder of the reality we all face.
Do you know what left me with even more anxiety? The time I spent making excuses to God. Unconsciously, I was building myself up to be my own god. Everything was about me: my fun, my pleasure, my happiness, my enjoyment. Why did that leave me anxious? Because when my life was centered around myself, no one was there to help the inevitable downfalls. The only person left to question and blame was me.
As I wrestled with myself, partying was the best anecdote to cure a few thousand anxiety-filled thoughts. Plus, I could justify it by 'being social,' 'networking,' 'getting to know the city,' etc. All is well if it ends well. It wasn't until I had an actual anxiety attack that I had to come face to face with myself. The man of self-fulfillment that I desperately wanted to be was suddenly gone. As the doctor asked if I would like to be prescribed anxiety medication, I almost broke down right before him.
No.
I'm sick of trying to be my own god; I'm sick of living a lifestyle that is self-glorifying; I'm sick of making excuses of why I can't be who I really am; I'm sick of having to live a life that I'm convinced I must live for others to like me. Unfortunately, many people suffer from natural anxiety, but mine was self-created by an insecure man who had spent years wandering in a desert of sin. I was sick of myself.
Part 3: The Realization
The Right Time
I took a road trip out west in the summer of 2020. I was between grad school and starting a job, so it seemed like the perfect time to travel alone. What began as a well-mapped trip quickly became a scramble, as I couldn't rent a camping trailer in Denver that I was promised. Suddenly, I was 1,100 miles away from home with a busted camping itinerary and nowhere to stay - bad timing.
After a few calls, I could stay with my friend's roommate and hang out with some really awesome strangers for the weekend - good timing.
Then, I drove to Telluride to see some friends I had not seen since graduating from college a year earlier. We enjoyed catching up and an incredible view of the Perseids Meteor Shower - good timing.
Next, I went to Arches National Park, where I got lost on a hike and roamed the desert for 4 hours in 110-degree heat - bad timing.
After that, I met my cousin in Glacier National Park for a few days of hiking in Montana - good timing.
Unfortunately, half of the park on an Indian Reservation was closed for Covid - bad timing.
Finally, we drove across the U.S. making all sorts of stops along the way home - good timing.
What if my trip had gone exactly as planned? Truthfully, for the months I spent planning that trip, I had already gone on the original itinerary in my head. The stress of trying to follow the itinerary would have trumped the fun of the actual trip. Do you know what I enjoyed a heckuva lot more? Spontaneously making the most of my busted plan. My master timing was upended for the better.
For years, I built the perfect idea of how I wanted my life to look - great job, big house, wife & kids, the whole nine yards. I always thought God would naturally fit into that equation on my own timing. It was another instance of me trying to control my life. Whenever I felt like starting the "quit anytime" journey, I would figure out this Christianity thing, once and for all, with my perfect timing.
One huge problem: There is no such thing as perfect timing in your relationship with God. In fact, most people experience the opposite by coming to know Jesus in bad timing - at least that is what happened to me. I finally had to throw my hands up and say: Okay… Maybe there is no perfect time to do this; maybe achieving all of the desires of my mind isn't going to make me happy; maybe my life is worth more than my flaws; maybe I can be forgiven for all of my mistakes; maybe I can put on the identity of Jesus and be an imperfect son of God.
That's how God's timing works. Whenever you're in the midst of a bit of suffering with nowhere to turn, that is when He intervenes. The trip I took out west will always symbolize His timing over my life. I'm not saying that it's always easy. Do you want to know what has been frustrating? Changing my direction and not being in control. Do you know what has always been worth it? Saying yes.
I can humbly sit here and write this post having complete trust in God's timing. Why? Because He intervened in my life at a true turning point. The path I was on was getting dangerously close to no longer being able to "quit anytime." Someone would have to quit it for me, which can take many forms. My dad would always tell me, "I've known people go down that path and, at some point, that lifestyle has to end." Little did he know, he was speaking straight to me. I took it further to say:
An employer is going to end it
Friends are going to end it
Family is going to end it
Sickness is going to end it
A significant other is going to end it
The law is going to end it
Death is going to end it
And if any of the above have to end your lifestyle, it's not going to be with good timing. God's timing might seem bad, but it's the only one of these options that end well. I'm not saying your life will be rosy after surrendering to God (we've already touched on suffering), but nor was my life previous to it. The outcome you gain in trusting God's timing is the same for every character in the Bible: God's total deliverance in the end.
Self-Sacrifice
I am working on self-sacrifice in my relationship with God right now, and it's a continual process. Re-tooling my mind to think less of myself has been a battle. The excuses to glorify me are always around the corner - to ensure I am safe and comfortable. Christianity is about self-sacrifice for the glory of God. Jesus came down from the throne of heaven to earth and paid the ultimate sacrifice. When you follow Jesus, you're called to be a living sacrifice for His namesake. Sacrifice is not easy, but it's what He did.
Sports gives an earthly example of how excuses and self-sacrifice are antonyms in terms of success. How many championship teams get into the press conference after winning the big game and say:
"Gotta hand it to me. I played tremendously out there. Overall, our team didn't care about each other, and we made sure we were extra selfish this year."
When asked what the secret to basketball is, NBA Hall of Famer Isaiah Thomas said, "The secret to basketball is that it's not about basketball…." He means it's about a group of individuals sacrificing their talents for what's best for the team. Sacrifice.
Christianity aside, sacrifice is difficult in an earthly context. I could list hundreds of things I want to do while I'm young, but I don't do them because they would require a ton of sacrifice - primarily the sacrifice of my time. I have found it easy to pursue things that require little self-sacrifice like spending money, drinking too much, porn, entertainment, eating junk food, and screen time. Conversely, I have found things to be hard that require a lot of self-sacrifices like fitness, eating healthy, reading instead of TV, having 1 drink, controlling sexual desires, less entertainment, and more quality time.
The list of things requiring self-sacrifice has brought me more happiness than anything on the list requiring no sacrifice.
Now think about how Jesus endured the same temptations, abstained from sin, and still loved you and me enough to pay the ultimate sacrifice for our sins. As a result, my life is worth way more than this world can offer it, and I'm called to be a sacrifice for the sake of others to know the name of Jesus. It's entirely backward from anything society teaches today. I was taught much about personal freedom and using it for self-gain. It's even written in my Constitution that I have the pursuit of happiness. Yet, the Bible constantly proclaims the death of self (Galatians 2:20).
This dichotomy between society and Christianity amplifies my struggle with self-sacrifice. Society wants you to be addicted to yourself. Medical studies continually show that the first few days are the hardest when quitting an addiction. While it might seem like a scary first step out of the boat, there is a Savior who is saying, "Come." If the first steps were easy, everyone would do it. The first step is the hardest - just like running a mile for the first time is the hardest. But spiritual disciplines are right around the corner.
"If you turn around, you will find it."
Famous MLB Umpire Joe West said those words… about losing 30 pounds. As he humbly accepted the praise in an interview, he used this caution as a reminder of how easy it would be to put back on the weight. The same can be said of my faith in Jesus. If I turn around and return to my excuse-making, self-glorifying faith, I know exactly the life I can find. God has destroyed my Sodom and Gomorrah, so why would I look back?
The easiest way to not look back is by surrounding yourself with people who push you forward. In our soul-sucking world, it's easy to get bogged down with people who want to hold you back. The cliche "misery loves company" is as accurate as it gets. I used to be a miserable person interested in pulling people down in my self-loathing disguised as "fun." On a night out, I was one of the many faces, providing people a crutch of, "Well, at least Davis is here."
I learned that nobody needs another friend to get drunk with them. No one needs another friend to go out until 4 a.m. with them. No one needs another friend to smoke with them. No one needs another friend to mistreat the opposite sex with them. No one needs another friend to watch meaningless entertainment with them.
We need more life-giving friendships where both parties are willing to sacrifice themselves for the betterment of the other person.
I'm not telling you to abandon your community. Even though I was a miserable person, I was still a pleasant guy to be around (I think). The chances are, you are surrounded by good people too. I'm saying we need more leaders and people to go against the culture's status quo and provide better relationships for others. Even if you don't believe what I believe, at least acknowledge that we have to care for one another better. Miserable me only cared about myself, and I know how isolating that was.
Since I'm not turning back on my belief, I'm done being too cool to display my relationship with God. I tried so hard to make sure I was the hero, but It's over - I'm taking off my helmet - My flag is raised - I'm surrendering. That's not to say that every interaction I have has to be about Jesus. Still, it's a strive to make every interaction reflect Jesus. I'm coming to the table where Jesus welcomes all who are lost (Luke 15:22-24), and I'm not leaving.
I understand this happens differently for everyone. Even if I want you to experience the same joy as I do, I know it might come at a different stage of life for you. God's timing is radical, and His timing makes it all worth it. The best thing for me in seasons of change is to practice diligence. God is not in a hurry, and He can't use busybodies who are unwilling to sacrifice themselves to know Him (Proverbs 21:5).
Slow down, breathe, and simplify your life.
When I get too busy, I catch myself peaking backward. Then, in only the ways the Holy Spirit can, there comes a reminder of who I am, where I am, and what I'm doing… There is no turning back.
Until Part 2…
Think about the largest concert you have attended. Now envision the set where the performer goes acapella - no instruments, just everyone in the crowd singing in unison with their favorite musician. Why does it sound so beautiful? I know I'm a terrible singer, and so is the guy beside me, but still, everyone's unique voice is coming together to agree on a pitch. Thus, even if there are imperfections, the result is a pleasing harmony.
Harmony is hard to find these days. It's a byproduct of what our western culture has become. The influx of information and communication has made the standard of agreement impossible to achieve. Regardless of how much we innovate, simplicity is slowly becoming non-existent in my life. At times, I can feel the complexities start to bleed into my relationships and, most importantly, my relationship with Jesus. I'm honestly sick and tired of settling to watch peoples' lives through my phone and forgetting the reason God put me on this earth: to love one another.
Moments of singing praises are when I feel closest to God because everyone agrees in their love for Him. Sadly, even Christians can struggle to agree, but put on Amazing Grace or It Is Well, and every voice is lifted. I used to watch my Mom tear up in church when overtaken by these worship moments. I never understood where the sudden emotion came from. I don't know when it clicked for me, but it probably began to register when I saw how dark the world can be. Then, I reflect on those moments in church as a kid, and I can start to see the beauty and simplicity of being around people that love you.
Part of my make-up is that I am an inquisitive person. I struggle to take things at face value. As a kid, I constantly challenged my parents on the boundaries they set around me. Over and over, they would explain to me: "When you have kids one day, you will understand." I would think, Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, continue taking away all the fun. It didn't take until I had kids; it took until I realized how valuable it is to have one thing in this world:
To be loved.
But we live in a world that is reluctant to give it. Don't ever forget that you are worthy of being loved. I definitely forgot it for a second. God came down to earth in human flesh and died for your sins because He loves you and me. Because of this, you and I are completely forgiven.
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This is what my post to Christianity looks like at age 25 (pt. 1 of a life's journey). I don't know what it will look like at age 30, 35, 40, 50, and beyond, but I know what I never want to forget: God's love for me. If I rest in that all the days of my life, I know I'll be found doing the work of the Lord. I pray to do the best with what I have in front of me and trust in God's timing.
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