The Difficult Road to Holy Orthodoxy

I come from a long line of Methodist Christians.

On my mom's side, all were Methodists. My mother's Great-Grandfather was a "Shouting Methodist" who rode around 19th Century Texas on horseback, preaching from his Bible. My mother still has that Bible. Both of her parents were devout Methodists, and were buried at the same Church they served their whole lives.

On my dad's side, all were members of the Assemblies of God — a charismatic denomination born out of the Holiness movement within the Methodist Church. My dad's mother, who is 96 years old, was the first and only Christian in her family. I've never met someone who lives life with as much faithfulness, endurance, and prayerfulness as her. My childhood friends affectionately nicknamed her "Saint Emma" because of her joyful spirit, wise counsel, and example of true piety.

Thanks to these roots, my parents are amazing people.

My dad was on track to make millions by thirty-five, but he instead walked away from it to serve Christ. He spent twenty-five years alongside my mom in Christian education as a Head of School, impacting and changing the lives of thousands of kids. I had front row seats, watching them give their whole lives away in love.

Naturally, I followed in their steps. I began serving in church at age 11, was teaching by 16, and served in various leadership positions through my twenties. At 23, I became the youth minister and assistant pastor of a church in Fort Worth. By 27, I was the campus pastor of a school near Austin.