Welcome to my website, enjoy Your stay.

This is terribly long, but I trust you will find a blessing in it by the time you reach the end.  I am close to 50 years old, and a step-grandfather to six wonderful children.   

In February of 1974 however, I was a twelve year old boy.  I went to Sunday School for the first time. I didn't know anyone except my friend who had invited me. The Sunday School class was held in an old bread truck just outside the back door of a little country church. The teacher was an eighteen year old girl who fascinated me with the fact that she could show me love and respect even though she had never seen me before.  The fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous had NOTHING to do with anything!The truck had a small home-made table and benches inside.

That same Sunday night I went back to church, hoping to see that Sunday School teacher again. She had shown me kindness like I had never known. During the service a woman began speaking to the people. To this day I can't remember what that lady preacher was yelling about. It turned out that this woman of God was to have more impact on my life than perhaps any other person I have ever met. The only thing I do remember is kneeling at an old wooden bench with several coats of paint with tears streaming down my face. My heart was laid out, open to the Savior, Jesus. 

A few months later, I was standing with my arms stretched toward heaven, just twelve years of age searching for a deeper, fuller relationship with my new found Savior. I felt something stir, way down inside, deeper than my belly. So far inside, I was excitedly frightened. This was what I believe to be the first stirrings of sanctification in my life.   God touched my life in a way that cannot be explained in a natural sense, and has never left me, not for one second, regardless of how disobedient I tried to be. 

As time passed, I grew, studied the word, and practiced the gifts and graces God had bestowed on me, giving words of wisdom and knowledge, ministering in altar services, prayer meetings, bible studies, youth and junior camps, rallies and services. 

When I was older, I fell in love, got married, and by this time, had enlisted in the United States Air Force. I found a special calling, enabling me to serve God, while serving my country. 

My wife came to me with a daughter, and eleven months later, bore a son. I loved the girl as if she was my own, and I was thrilled with having a son to train-up in God's ways. My wife was a blessing to me as my Air Force duties carried me and my family off to what was then West Germany. Although sometimes disobedient to God as a young man, I was used in various ways to minister to others.

Once back in the United States, now a little older, I turned from serving God. I did not deny God, but I would not proclaim Him either. It was during this time God saw fit to call my son (who by now was five years old) to him in heaven. It is important to note here that Bobby died on November 23, 1988. Remember that date for a moment. 

I knew Christ was still with me and I cried out in sorrow for my dead son and in repentance for my present sins. The Lord was still there, waiting for me to come in from the cold. 

In the years that followed, I chose not to re-enlist in the Air Force, which had been my career of choice. My wife and I grew apart, rather than together, as often is the case with the loss of a child. I knew it was happening but felt powerless to stop it. 

Following the end of my marriage, I moved to Las Vegas, Nevada where I found a wonderful church, full of loving and accepting people, pastored by a man who was very well educated in Scripture and was able to teach even the most stubborn of us (ME!) many things to better prepare us to minister to a lost and suffering world.  During the recovery period, I found myself drawn to the original call by God to preach and minister to God's people.   

I was directed, I believe by God, to attend a Bible College in Colorado, where I attended as a full time student for the first two years.  Perhaps the greatest achievement to date as a student was having the opportunity to interview Dr. Nina Gunter (a leading woman in the Church of the Nazarene denomination) while she was visiting the campus.  We discussed the role of women in the ministry (the subject of a paper I was writing at the time).   

I returned to Las Vegas to marry, a decision I later and quite painfully discovered was a misguided choice.  While that episode is behind me, it has derailed any obvious options for public ministry in mainline, established churches since I am now a twice divorced man.  Now I am seeking God for direction as to where I can serve Him best given my current circumstances. 

On Christmas Eve of 1997, my step-daughter was married to her high school sweetheart. Now, here is where that date in 1988 becomes important. On November 23, 1998, my first grandchild, a girl, was born. I don't know if there is a significance to the dates or not, but I consider it a double blessing. To be a grandfather is a wonderful blessing in and of it self, but for that miracle of life to come into our lives almost exactly (to the hour) 10 years after the most horrific event a parent can face, must carry with it some significance. 

I present myself to all who come in contact with this as a witness to God's everlasting commitment to those who accept Him. 

As you and I join together on this part of our respective journeys, I pray God’s blessings on us as seekers together, on the path of learning about the love of God, upon our families as they practice patience with us, on our churches as they allow us to practice what we’re learning upon this path, and upon those in our sphere of influence as we seek the Truth together.


This is my newest grandson, Logan.

This is my son, Bobby.  1983-1988