As My Son

I apologize for how late this blog is being written in comparison to the time that these events took place. What I am writing now is extremely personal to me, and I know that this is a long post. However, this blog is for those that want to know where the Lord is truly taking me on my World Race. I am, of course, not saying that if you DON’T read all the way through this post that you don’t care about that, however this story has probably been the most impactful thing that I have felt on my journey so far.

These events TRULY began on my eighteenth birthday. My dad had decided that for my coming into “adulthood” that we would do something that might seem a bit unordinary for a man my age to do on his eighteenth. Instead of going out with friends or throwing a big party, which I was completely fine with not doing, our house would become a place for all of the men who had a large part to play in my life to gather. They would share some kind words of encouragement for myself who was stepping into a new part of life.

When this night arrived I honestly cannot recall of my own power much of what was said, however I remember how I felt: loved. After many speeches and laughs my own father took his time to share his own piece. He had written a letter, a classic Gordon McDaniel move, and decided to read it aloud to our group then and there. Once again, though I am a bit embarrassed to admit, but without rewatching the videos of my friends’ and family’s words I could recall very little, including my own father’s. However, one phrase from this speech came to mind every time that I thought of this moment. “As my son.”

As we fast forward to training camp, I had a blast for the first week, and after my “God Encounter” decided to call my family. I explained to them all that I had expressed in that first blog post, along with a bit of extra information, in a fervent excitement that I simply could not shake. My parents took this news well, expressing that they hoped I would take this excitement to the Word, test everything, and love the Lord all the more through my experiences. I thought nothing of this and left our conversation soon after.

Roughly a week and half later, I had met with my team. We discussed things likes gifts of the spirit and whether or not we believed that this gifts still existed. I said to our group a bit shakily, “I don’t know what I believe.” When our squad leader, Banks, pressed me I recounted my phone call with my parents, and realized how unsettling their laid back response had seemed. Did they know something about these gifts that I did not? Or were they simply just as shocked as me by this encounter and did not want to overwhelm me with questions? Banks leveled with me, “I think you need to call them.”

Later that night I called my dad to have a very long and ultimately upsetting conversation. Not at all for what my dad had to say about this supernatural experience, but more of what our conversation revealed for me. As my dad apologized for how he and my mom had reacted, intending only for me NOT to stumble, I screamed into my hand and blinked tears out of my eyes thinking of one thing. All my life, my faith had been hearsay, repeating and believing things that others had told me. Not that it refutes it as a reason for faith, but I was now on my way to get to experience the Lord for myself and make my faith my own. This terrified me. However, I still benefited greatly from my conversation with my dad, and I was glad to know where he stood.

It seemed that this phone call had not only impacted me. Not long after, my dad sent me, you guessed it, a letter. This letter was not terribly personal, nor was it very motional, it simply outlined exactly where my dad stood on all of these subjects, along with how much he truly did not desire for things like these to separate the body of Christ. I doubt that they knew it, but the same night that I decided to analyze this letter, my family asked to FaceTime, to say “Hi” to my little brother and just check in for a bit. I was so happy to hear that my brother wanted to hear from me, but was unsure of how I would react to seeing my parents. I really had not updated them on anything big that had happened since that first revival night. I called them and said “Hi” to my brother with a big smile. When I saw my parents, the Lord moved something in me. I truly do not know if they may or may not have felt something like the joy that I felt that night, but I wanted them to.

At this point the dates start to mix up in my head. “I am a very emotional person, but I am not a very emotionally expressive person,” my squad mentor, Bill, often says. I tend to agree with this when it comes to myself. However, for the strangest reason I decided to sit down with some people that I trust, Deborah Dvorak, Jackson Desnoyers, Audrey Hovis, and I believe a few others were present. I truly had not explained everything that had been going on to anyone yet, but for some reason, on the middle of the dining deck, in front of these people I had known for mere weeks, it all came out. I talked about everything except for the 18th birthday party, that comes in later. All of this was repeated probably three or four times to the same people. By the time that I had told this story the third time, I began to break. I began to cry, and I truly did not want to cry right then. I left that group after they prayed for me, feeling somewhat numb.

The next thing that I can remember is a speech from two of our coaches, Brian and Brandi. These two have a beautiful testimony and one that magnifies God’s steadfast love more than I can explain. It was specifically Brian speaking about how proud he was of his son, how overwhelmingly proud Brian was of his son. I knew that my dad was proud of me, I know that he is, it just hit me how much I wanted my dad to be able to talk about me the way that Brian talked about his son. I let insecurity make its way into my mind to wage war against logic. I knew that my dad actually did and still does talk about me with joy concerning how I was carrying out my life, but what if this change in spiritual perspective or doctrine changed how he thought about me. A foolish thought, but one that worked in terms of sending me down a spiral of self-doubt.

I don’t remember if I simply sat with that fact until the next revival night or if I talked to someone about it before then, but I do remember that it was still with me when we got the that next revival night. As we entered into the training center for revival, Jackson and Audrey both decided to check in on me. I explained how I had been feeling about Brian’s speech, and how I had a memory of the video of my father reading me that letter on my 18th. I knew that if I watched that video that it would make me cry, and I honestly did not just want to cry in front of these people. Jackson suggested that he and I go outside to watch it, and I agreed, feeling like I did need to watch this video.

We headed outside and of course I cried, a very good bit. Jackson sat with me, I went over my memory of everything that had happened with all of this. Of course the one part of these videos that I did remember was repeated and, in fact, magnified to me, the parts that said, “As my son”. After more conversation with Jackson and more tears, we returned to revival and I simply bowed in reverence to the Lord, bawling on the floor, not wanting to come up to allow people to see my face. That phrase, over and over again, rang in my mind, “As my son. As my son. As my son.” Then something changed. Almost as if the phrase were written out in front of me, “As MY son” As His son. A son of the Lord.

I rushed back outside and rewatched that part of the video again. In that video my father wishes things for my life as his son. I could not fault a single one of them against something that my own Heavenly Father would want for me. This is where this story ends. Never in my life have I ever had a calling out of something more powerful than a calling to BE a son.

To my dad, I hope that as you read this that you do not feel as though I am angry at you, or even feel distant from you. You would always tell us as kids that there is nothing that we could ever do to get you to stop loving us. THAT is what I now understand. I love you dad, and I am so joyful that I got to grow up as your son.