“I don’t smoke; I don’t chew; don’t hang out with folks who do.” This was a common saying while growing up—it describes my life before I was a Christian. I was raised in a Christian family, attended a conservative church, had friends who stayed out of trouble, and was known as a “goody-two-shoes” around school. You have likely heard testimonies from people about their past and the terrible sins they had committed before they became Christians.

In a church building in the heart of Monrovia, Liberia, a small group of women gathered over the course of a few days to talk about their hopes and those of the other women in their neighborhoods.

On September 12, 2012, I made the longest walk of an addict’s life—the walk from the parking lot into my first 12-step recovery meeting. I was 44, and I had a golden calf residing in my heart—alcohol. I was an ordained pastor who knew that God had placed a special calling upon my life but never fully realized it until I put to death an addiction that controlled my life.

In 1985, when Shepherd Community Center first began to offer hope and support for people trapped in the cycle of poverty, Google didn’t exist—neither did Amazon nor Facebook. Much has changed in the past 35 years as Shepherd Community has learned, adapted, and grown in serving its neighbors on the east side of Indianapolis. Yet much remains the same.

“God is on the Move” is the name of a song, yes, but for my wife, Terri, and me, it became an anthem. As the lead pastor at Connect Church in a small community of Northern Oklahoma, I’m glad I can tell this story.

Beyond a sliding metal gate is a basketball court, converted from its former life as a driveway. Past the basketball hoops is a new play structure, and to the right of both is a two-story brick house surrounded by brightly painted walls. Joshua,* 18, helped paint a horse on one of the walls, and Daniel, 14, painted a school of orange fish.

I would like to take a moment and introduce you to someone . . . me! The youngest of five children, I grew up in a Christian home with a father who was a minister. I was a good kid growing up but always felt drawn to push the envelope. I played sports and had the opportunity to play at the collegiate level, but I felt more drawn to prove that I could make it on my own. So I decided to join the US Army and became an airborne medic with the 82nd Airborne Division.

When it comes to personal stories of salvation, a backdrop of intercession is significant to the process of transformation. To intercede means to stand in the gap for someone else. Salvation history is made when people prayerfully stand in the gap for someone they love. In that regard, one could say that to intercede is to love and to love is to intercede.

I have fond childhood memories of testimony time at our weekly church services. The same people testified every week and said the same thing every time—even the kids. I had my testimony memorized so I wouldn’t forget anything. I still remember it. While comparing notes with a co-worker in my building the other day, I learned that her childhood testimony sounded pretty much like mine! The testimony tradition continued in my experience at a Nazarene college.

Having listened intently to the minister, Jim began examining his life. The talk of intimacy with God touched a nerve that revealed his inner need. During the question and answer session, Jim couldn’t remain silent. Rising to his feet, he explained that many years ago, he had given his life to Jesus. He said, “I have done everything I should do. I have attended church, been faithful to Bible reading and prayer, and financial giving to my church. Yet, I have rarely experienced intimacy with God. I have most often felt relational distance rather than a relational connection with God.”