I never wanted to be a preacher. I never wanted to be a pastor either. My father was a pastor, so I was a PK, and I saw enough church as a kid to know I didn’t really want to be too involved in it (that’s another blog entirely). I was going to do my own thing, and thank God when I got my accolades…you know, like they used to do on the Grammys. But, doing my own thing didn’t really take me where I thought it would.
I thought it would be cool to be the life of the party.
I thought it would be cool to be able to go home with whoever I wanted to that night.
I thought it would be cool to be the man that women desired and dudes wanted to be like…
But…instead of being cool…it made me feel cool.
Like an empty meat locker
Like being frozen in place
Like having no movement as you see life passing by on a screen in front of your face.
I had it “all”, but I was empty. I knew it, God knew it, and He literally waited until I recognized I was in a desert dying of thirst to point me to water. December 17, 2001 was the end of my rope, and that day I gave back to God what I thought I could manage on my own…my soul. That day I also dedicated my life to my call to pastor and preach. The following is an excerpt from my journal entry from that day:
I pray that I might serve my purpose to the fullest of my capabilities and become a powerful vessel of Your words and Your teachings. My greatest fear is that I will disappoint us both, and repeat the sins of my father… I pray for my family, friends, and all those that come in contact with me, and pray that I am able to be a blessing in their lives, as well as them to mine. I have been asking for a while now “What do you want me to do?” Now you have answered my question and given me purpose. Thank you. The journey has begun.