MY TESTIMONY

I grew up in the Church of Christ and served as a pastor in the denomination for over a decade. I received my preaching ordination there, earned my undergraduate degree there, but did my graduate studies outside the Church of Christ.

I was a radical, die-hard Church of Christ pastor who lost everyone I loved to it. I believed it was the one true church, preached its traditions, and hurt good people in “the name of Jesus” for it.

By the time I found out that it was a cult, I was excommunicated and lost what little I had left.

Leaving the denomination my wife and I grew up in, we moved to Arizona. For the first time in our lives, we found ourselves looking for a church.

We grew up condemning everyone and calling everything they did sin, so walking into these churches was like entering a new world. We were so green that we didn’t even know how to “judge” what mattered and what didn’t. What was true? What was just what we’d been taught?

Eventually, we got comfortable with different Christian traditions and landed at a megachurch. There was a lot we liked about it, but after our family fell on hard times, we saw the side of church we couldn’t ignore: how corporate and commercialized church was.

We’d spent years doing “church” how we’d been taught—programs, committees, budgets, boards. Calling corporations “churches.” Calling paid staff “pastors.” Calling 501(c)(3)s “family.”

I’d been a pastor for +10 years, never seeing I’d been auctioning myself when churches hired me—I was basically selling the gospel. Money was important in interviews. Contracts had to be signed. I didn’t see how I’d twist scripture to please people in order to keep my ministry job.

Now, I was seeing it from the other side.

Not as paid pastor but as a tithing churchgoer.

Church feeling less like family and more like a religious organization. People became attendees, customers, donors. Ministry became programming. Giving was fundraising. Good deeds for ads and marketing. Pastors were executives and bosses.

Everything, a production or product.

Somewhere between the branding, budgets, and buildings, my wife and I found ourselves asking where the gospel had gone. Next, came “church hopping.” Visited churches, connected, did small groups, took recommendations. Sadly, we kept walking away feeling like church was a business—transactional. Go to church. Sign up. Join group. Donate. Come back Sunday. Do it all again.

Eventually, we stopped going anywhere and tried joining social media groups to find people who understood. But so many of them had thrown the baby out with the bathwater—in escaping bad religion, they’d thrown out Jesus.

We didn’t know what the gospel was anymore. Yes, I could tell you about church theology, but I couldn’t tell you about the gospel.

I knew the Book, but I didn’t know the Man.

I wondered if I'd followed Christ or “Christianity”?

Then it hit us… Maybe church wasn’t supposed to be a federally tax-exempt charitable nonprofit?

I’ve since learned people like us aren’t losing faith. They’re losing trust in church corporations called “churches” and paid employees called “pastors.”

Millions leaving “church” and finding Jesus. Many aren’t leaving God. They’re sheep without real shepherds, lost in the wilderness. Burned out believers. Church dropouts. People who love Jesus but who’re discovering that almost all American pulpits are preaching a false, prosperity gospel.

They’re not looking for less church.

They’re looking for more Jesus.

Jesus, not “Jesus.”

So, one day last summer, I asked Jesus what he was calling me to. That night I had a dream.

I’m with saints, running from demons in dungeons. But we’re surrounded. Suddenly, I’m in glowing white robes, my visage like a holy cleric. Raising rod and staff, I cry, “I’m a prophet of the Most High God!” Light flashes, radiating out. Demons shriek, shadows flee, darkness wisps away like smoke.

From 2024 to 2026, I had many dreams like this one. Sometimes, I met angels. Sometimes, God.

I had this dream many weeks ago.

I was in a church preaching from a scroll. Black ink scribbled Luke 23:46 then Luke 4:18-19 on it. My eyes fell on 23:46, before a thick slash struck it out, leaving me staring at 4:18-19.

I woke up and read both passages.

Luke 23:46 are Jesus’s last words to conclude his earthly ministry, when on the cross he’d finished his mission and cried out, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Then he breathed his last.

Luke 4:18-19 are Jesus’s first words to introduce his earthly ministry, often called his “Nazareth Manifesto” because it’s his mission statement—he promised the poor he’ll care for them. Because God gave me a good look at Luke 4:18-19, leaving this passage unmarked and the last thing seen in the dream, let’s read the whole passage:

He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”

I had another dream many months ago. A white basket came down from heaven and sat in my lap. Inside the basket’s left half, lay treasure glowing with immeasurable worth—pearl of great price, lost coin, hidden treasure in a field, all-in-one. Inside the right half, sheaves of wheat standing up, densely packed and ready for harvest.

In two more dreams, a man led an immeasurable host of poor people to a sea, where he breathed on the waters. With each breath, waters receded until they could all cross parted seas. Again, a man was raised up to the skies on a tower of poor people like himself, where he was told to jump. He landed safely, walking with prophets of old.

It’s been a long road. I’ve gone from condemning Christians who followed dreams, to not believing in dreams myself, to slowly learning that they’re biblical and to believe in them, to finally having faith to follow them. It’s taken years, but now I’m doing what God has put on my heart: preaching good news to the poor.

I’ve taken to calling it a poor gospel.

Jesus simply calls it the gospel for the poor.