I grew up in a strong Christian home. My mom led me to Christ when I was four. I was baptized twice, and I raised my hand every time a speaker invited us to accept Jesus into our hearts. 

I was involved in Awana, Bible memorization, sashes, puppet ministry, along with VBS, Sunday School, sleepaway camps, and youth group. I was all in. I loved being involved with the church. That said, as I got older, I started to hold something back, a part of my life I didn’t want my leaders to see. 

Church-Russ attended Sunday services, youth group, and Monday night Bible study, and served on the worship team. He had a select group of Christian friends that he held close, but wasn’t always truthful with. 

Cool-Russ, on the other hand, drank with friends, smoked the intermittent cigarette, swore constantly, told dirty jokes, and was a serial dater. He exclusively dated non-Christians, and to suppress his guilt for being “unequally yoked,” would try to make these relationships long-term and monogamous. 

Those two versions of me often collided and sometimes found themselves in uncomfortable situations, like when his “cool” friends would ask him why he didn’t really act like a Christian. Or when his “church” friends would wonder why he had a hickey. Amid this dual life, when I was 14 or 15, one of my youth group leaders told me, “Russ, one day you’re going to be a pastor.” I literally ran away from her, screaming, “Nooooooooooo!”  

Despite my theatrics, I knew they were right. I knew I was a leader. I knew I loved God’s people. But it scared me, because I knew that fully committing to the church meant living differently. It meant letting parts of Cool-Russ die. It meant becoming whole, and for some reason, wholeness was terrifying. 

On a macro level, we chose that verse because we wanted to submit our lives to God’s plans. But on a personal level, it captured my story. My heart has made plenty of foolish plans, and God, in His mercy, has continually redirected me. 

Looking back on that night at youth group, the plan I chose was to run as far away from the pastoral calling my leader observed in me, the calling God was putting on my life. 

As I ran, I turned to romantic relationships, and from ages 14 to 23, I dated nonstop, moving from one long-term relationship to the next. These relationships weren’t God-honoring, and most of the women I dated weren’t Christians. I justified it with what we would call “missionary-dating,” essentially using the relationship to try to lead them to faith in Jesus. 

From experience, this always ended poorly, as my evangelistic dating would distort the picture of who Jesus is. 

But God didn’t forget me. And, slowly, He began to re-establish my steps. 

I didn’t know this at the time, but my friends and family were praying for me. One of those friends invited me to a Promise Keepers event in Cincinnati, which I reluctantly attended. During that time, a group of men prayed over me that I would find a church family and not feel so lost spiritually. Two months later, it happened. I filled out an interest survey with Illini Life Christian Fellowship at the university’s RSO fair, and that went on to become my spiritual home for 14 years. 

Over time, people in our church gently pointed out the issues—but I didn’t listen. I was defiant. I was convinced I could lead her to Christ. A year into being part of that community, and three years into our relationship, she did the hard thing (which we both knew was the right thing) and broke up with me. 

That breakup led to a chain of events that changed my life forever.  

Up to that point, I had been passively attending church, but coming out of that heartbreak, I committed to Sunday services, a small group, and to real community. That community became a safety net as I processed the pain of the breakup. I didn’t handle it perfectly, and I made a whole host of bad decisions in the aftermath. But for the first time, I began bringing hidden sin into the light. 

Step by step, with the help of my community, I started turning back to Jesus. I committed to reading the entire Bible, something I had never done, despite being a Christian since childhood. It took three years. Most importantly, I also decided to stay a fifth year in college to lead a small group to see if ministry was for me. I went to counseling and began addressing the root causes of my idolatry of romantic relationships. I told my pastors I felt called to ministry and wanted to come on staff. 

For the first time, my life was becoming integrated. Church-Russ and Cool-Russ were becoming one person: Cool-Church-Russ.  

My pastors told me I wasn’t ready to come on staff. I needed time to heal and mature. In short, I needed to grow up. At the time, I was frustrated. In hindsight, it was a gift. They protected me from stepping into something I wasn’t ready for. I had studied graphic design and painting in college, but after recommitting my life to Christ, my ambitions shifted toward campus ministry. I wanted to participate in the work that God used to pull me out of the muck and mire of my own sinful life. Still, that calling was put on hold. 

I decided to pursue graphic design because, frankly, it’s more lucrative than selling my weird paintings. It allowed me to build savings and stability. More importantly, it shaped me. I developed a work ethic. I learned humility and how to serve clients even when I disagreed with them. I learned how to communicate vision, how to work under authority, and how to manage my time. 

Most importantly, I learned how to prioritize my faith while working full-time. Looking back, that may have been one of the most important lessons for me to bring into ministry, because most people I shepherd don’t end up in full-time vocational work. They’ll work “regular” jobs, where there is often a temptation to make church involvement a lower priority to career success. 

Having worked in the industry, I am able to testify to how vital it is to prioritize Christian community, because it’s one of the primary ways we stay connected with Jesus as professionals. In learning to prioritize church, I figured out ways to humbly appeal to my employers for flexibility so I can serve and be involved with my church — a skill I can now pass along to the young people I minister to.  

These days, a lot has changed, but I still aim to align my plans more closely with God’s heart, so the process of being established isn’t quite so painful. I still get it wrong. I still make plans that I later have to release. But I’ve learned this: it’s always better to walk in step with God than to resist Him. My path to ministry could have been more direct. I could have avoided some pain. But even so, God used it all. 

He always does.