Timothy: (Greek-Timotheos) meaning “honouring God”

I’m not a fan of Christianity, just as I’m not a fan of Judaism. I’m not a fan of Atheism and I’m not a fan of the Muslim religion. The thing is, I’m not a fan of religion.

I am a big fan and believer in God and the relationship I have with Him.

Growing up I was exposed to the idea of God in parochial school. That didn’t work for me. I went to church and heard all the stories about a scary God. A punishing and shaming God. A God that would send people like my mother and my sponsor to hell to burn for eternity.

I was swatted at by nuns at my school. I was talked to like I was a bad human. I was exposed to a people who seemingly represented what God wanted and a God who didn’t like people like me. I formed an opinion of God based on what I was presented with and like any sane person would do, I resisted everything about it.

Eventually, I became so distant from anything God related that I backed myself into a corner and the only thing within arms reach of my position that could provide me with any relief were human powers. Reckless sex, drugs, alcohol, violence, shopping, attention, anger, money and power. I was only good at getting some of those things, I’ll let you sort out which ones.

So that little corner of the world that I lived in got lonely. It didn’t have any room for the love from my parents. It didn’t allow me to feel safe. It hardened me and made me feel like the world owed me something. If there was a God, He owed me something too.

So if you know me personally, or have spent any time reading the entries of this blog, you kinda know what the rest of my life looked like up until I got sober. It was dark and destructive. It was everything you would think someone who was addicted to heroin at the ripe old age of 16 would experience. It was the excuse I needed to continue using and it was the reason that had me consider to not use. But at that time in my life, it wasn’t about God or a lack of God. It was about me and my son being a family or not.

One thing I want to acknowledge is the prejudgement I had towards Christians specifically. Now I have read the Bible…Old Testament and New Testament. Not that I retained what I read but I’ve read it and more than once. I somewhat disregarded what I read however and put more stock in the people that claimed that religion. I really put the most stock in the craziest of people that claimed that religion.

[think street evangelists with bullhorns, TV faith healing preachers, the guy on the city street corner dressed as Jesus on roller skates screaming at people about the devil is coming, the priests in the news for touching little boys….all the Christians/Catholics that just seemed completely mental is who I thought ALL Christians were]

Why would I ever want to consider Jesus as an option to provide me happiness?

The short answer is, I wouldn’t and I didn’t. I despised organized religion even though I explored basically all of them as an adult.

I completely missed the mark.

About 20-24 months ago I started talking daily to a man named Tim. He had the most comforting approach to conversation about his God who happened to be Jesus. Now by this time I had already shifted to a place of open-mindedness and acknowledged that I didn’t know everything, so it was really perfect timing. As corny and cliche as it sounds, I consider the timing and circumstances to be divinely influenced and orchestrated. We really started talking about some tough subject matter and essentially verbally studied Jesus teachings. He ended up being the catalyst to the church I attend. He invited me to a church called Lighthouse. I went. Hated it. End of story.

jk, you guys.

I went, didn’t like the Jesus talk, the music or the people really…but I couldn’t deny the truth in the message. The guy on the stage was named Sammy. He is an ex-heroin addict like me. He dressed like me. Has a shoe addiction like me. Has a similar sense of humor as me…and probably the most important thing I saw that day was…he was honest like me. He was open and made himself vulnerable it seemed in front of a big room. Just like me. I have had to speak at so many meetings in the recovery based fellowship I belong to and there have been hundreds of attendees. I have cried in front of them. Put my dirt out for them. I have shared my strength in God for them…all in an effort to help them. This guy Sammy did the same that day and I left there very melancholy about Lighthouse church as a result. I wouldn’t return for months.

I ended up meeting a guy named Joe one day at work. He was very outspoken about Jesus. Had a very convicted approach when discussing it. The truth is, I was pretty put off by it. But one thing I couldn’t deny was he believed in what he was talking about and I secretly admired him for it. I liked him because of it, as I had the same conviction about God…just not Jesus. He told me one day at work that I am basically carrying myself as a follower of Jesus, I just don’t know it…

…yet.

Between these three interactions with these guys, I started reading the Bible again and other Jesus based literature. I had done this many many times in the past, but not with an open mind or an open heart. I more investigated Jesus in the past to poke holes in Christianity, not to really find any truth in it. But this time was different.

I started praying different. I started going back to Lighthouse. I persistently “fought” my way into Sammy’s office by being somewhat of a pest. I did this because I had an unexplainable pull to Jesus and I felt like Sammy was exactly the person who I should speak with about it. I hit him with some non-negotiable issues and questions I had about the Bible and Jesus and he handled them with grace.

I started having very very very (I can’t type “very” enough here, I promise) bizarre reactions to my search for some truth in Jesus. I have had an out of body experience during an alter call at a Lighthouse location in Catonsville, MD. A church that actually reminded me of my youth. An out of body experience that caused me to completely lose any control I had over my tear ducts. I mean the tears were rolling down my face and I could do nothing about it, in public mind you.

I have felt a temperature change in my hands while listening to worship music….more times than I can count.

I have asked for Jesus to show up and prove to me that he is the Solution for me and I have more examples than I can describe.

I have damn near lost control of my ability to stand on my own two feet after feeling completely overwhelmed by God all over and through my body.

There have been so many instances where I’ve experienced little “nudges” and “winks” from God while either talking about Jesus or making efforts to grow closer to Him.

I ended up having a meeting with Sammy’s mom one day and I experienced an energy coming off her that was so strong that I felt an instant connection to her. Might not have been mutual, but for me there was a level of comfort with her that would take most 20 years of a daily relationship to create.

All of these things, and more bizarre things have happened while I was following up on a pull towards Jesus that I finally surrendered to. I can’t explain it. I know it sounds like something that is made up. Years ago, I wouldn’t dare share any of this because my ideas about Christians and Jesus were so polluted with my past exposure to the subject that I would be ashamed.

I am different now.

I know that this way of life will come with difficult challenges. New oppositions and tough conversations.

I believe firmly that I have a self awareness now and a relationship with God that provides me with every ounce of Protection I need. I feel spiritually stronger than I ever have and I know in my heart that it is because I am filled with the Spirit. That’s right, kids…the Holy Spirit. [hands you a vomit bag]

Yesterday a guy overdosed on heroin/fentanyl in the back seat of a car while his parents were driving. I heard the madness over the phone. I heard the screaming. I heard the panic. I heard all of it.

It hit very close to home.

I said nothing when the phone hung up. I clasped my hands together and bowed my head and begged Jesus to help him.

He was narcanned back to life. Yes, the medicine brought him back to life. But there is a back story to this that only God could’ve assisted with. I don’t think my prayer saved his life, but I know God heard me.

About 40 minutes later without any effort from me, his mother was crying to me. I was looking her right in her tear filled eyes and she started talking about her church. About her Jesus and her faith in Him.

She asked me about myself and I was able to share my testimony about my past, and my journey and a real life example of how big God can truly be.

When I left her she hugged me and thanked me in a way that I haven’t heard in sometime. She left the conversation believing that her son, who was blue from lack of oxygen a few hours earlier may have the same outcome as me. She breathed in some much needed hope at the very moment that I exhaled it. That conversation happened because of God.