Delivered at my baptism — February 22, 2026
Alongside my sons Brock, Jack, and George
Brock told me I should speak from my heart. I didn’t show my wife my speech because she’d say “it’s too long!” She’s going to kill me. My ex-wife is here too so my odds aren’t looking good boys!
But seriously—Courtney, thank you for being here today. This day matters to our boys, and it means a lot that we can share it together.
Thank you all for being here today. Truly.
This is one of the happiest days of my life—not just because of my own baptism, but because I get to share it with my sons, surrounded by people who have walked with me through every version of myself.
For a long time, I didn’t believe in God—not in any meaningful way. At my core, I believed I was alone. Capable, sure. Strong enough to take on the world. But alone. I believed I could only trust myself, and that being alone was safer than being known.
I didn’t believe in a loving Father—earthly or heavenly. And because of that, I lived as if everything depended on me.
A normal day back then looked like this: I’d wake up already anxious, already behind, already stressed about a life that wasn’t turning out the way I thought it should. I relied on coffee to get me through the morning, and alcohol to take the edge off at night. I told myself I was fine. I told myself I was strong.
But fear was running the show. Fear of failure. Fear of losing my family. Fear of bankruptcy. Fear of ending up alone and having to admit that I wasn’t enough after all.
I hurt people during that season—friends, family, coworkers, my ex-wife and her family, and eventually my kids. Not always intentionally. But consistently. I isolated myself and played the victim, while believing the lie that I wasn’t good enough, worthy enough, or lovable enough to be truly known.
Around that time, God placed a few men in my life who refused to give up on me.
One of them was Charlie Sternburg. Charlie helped me see that there might be a better life out there—if I was willing to be open to it. Another was Bill Neusch, who quietly showed me what faith looks like when it’s lived out in everyday decisions, not just talked about.
And then there was Rodney McGee.
The first time I met Rodney, I didn’t trust him at all. He hugged me, looked me in the eye, and told me he loved me—and I remember thinking, There is no way this guy is real. I was convinced he had to be a fraud. No one could actually live like this and be authentic.
I spent years waiting for him to crack.
Instead, he kept loving me. He kept forgiving me. Not once. Not seven times. But over and over again—like forgiveness didn’t have a limit.
In 2017, after losing my job in Houston and watching my life unravel again, I had nothing left. Bill offered me a chance to work with him in Marble Falls. Rodney offered me a place to live.
One afternoon, in Rodney’s media room in Burnet, Texas, with no confidence, no excitement, and no plan—I got on my knees and accepted Christ. Not because I felt holy. Not because I had it all figured out. But because I had finally run out of myself.
I was afraid. Afraid I was being a fraud. Afraid I was believing a lie. Afraid that faith meant giving up reality or pretending I was someone I wasn’t. My ego told me that people who needed Jesus were weak—and I was proud of how “strong” I thought I was.
But strength, it turns out, looks very different in the Kingdom of God.
That first year was hard. I had to give up drinking. I had to sit with emotions I’d been numbing for years. I didn’t trust Christians. I didn’t trust myself. And honestly, my heart didn’t change overnight.
What changed first was my willingness to surrender.
Night after night, I found myself on my knees in a closet, asking God for forgiveness and begging Him to show me a way forward. And slowly—quietly—something began to soften in me.
Rodney showed me what it looks like to live like Jesus—not as a pushover, but as a man of integrity, truth, grace, and mercy. Through him, and through the men in this room, I began to understand what a loving Father actually looks like.
I said I didn’t believe in a loving Father—earthly or heavenly. My own dad isn’t here today. That’s something I’ve had to make peace with, and I have. I’ve forgiven him, and I mean that. But I want to be honest about it, because it’s part of the story.
What I can tell you is that God didn’t leave me without fathers. He gave me Rodney—who showed me what unconditional love looks like in action. And He gave me Ron, my father-in-law, who didn’t have to be here today but wanted to be. Ron—the fact that you’re sitting here, that you chose to show up for this moment, says everything about the kind of man you are. My own father couldn’t make it. You drove here. That’s not lost on me, and it won’t be lost on my kids.
And He didn’t just give me fathers—He gave me friends. AJ and Charlie are here today. We hadn’t spoken in over ten years. Ten years. And when they heard about this day, they got on a plane and showed up. No grudge. No awkwardness. Just presence. That’s the kind of friendship that doesn’t expire.
To My Boys
Boys—I want you to pay attention to that. Pay attention to the men who show up. Not the ones who talk about it, but the ones who are in the room. Be the kind of father that Ron is—one who chooses to be present. Be the kind of man Rodney is—one who loves without keeping score. And be the kind of friend that AJ and Charlie are—the kind who shows up after ten years like no time has passed at all. Because that’s what real people do. They show up.
Faith didn’t remove hardship from my life. But it gave it meaning. It restored joy, wonder, and peace I didn’t even know I was missing. I stopped focusing only on the how of life and finally began to understand the why.
And I have to say—none of this would be happening today without my wife. Lynette, you believed in this day when I was still figuring out if I was ready for it. You planned it, you pushed for it, you held our family together so we could be standing here right now. You don’t just support my faith—you make it possible to live it out. I love you and I thank God for you.
And to my brother, Ben, and his entire family who also made the trip and took time away from school—bet they didn’t mind that part—thank you for being here. It means more than you know. Your kids are growing up right alongside mine, and my prayer is that somewhere in today, something resonates. The peace that Christ has brought into my life is real, and I want that for every person in this room—especially my own family.
And to the men from my two Bible studies—you’ve each shown me what brotherly love is all about. I’m grateful that you’ve helped me understand the meaning of all of this, and that doubt is part of the process of finding Him.
Today, my life is fuller, richer, and more joyful than anything I was chasing before. Not because it’s perfect—but because it’s rooted in something real.
Boys—this day is for you. My prayer is that you never have to carry the weight of regret the way I did. That you’ll understand your words and actions matter. That when you fail—and you will—you’ll know where to turn.
I’m grateful your mom is here to share this with you. Whatever has happened between us, she loves you deeply—and so do I.
Most importantly, I want you to know that you are worthy, deeply loved by God, and never alone. And that following Christ isn’t about giving up life—it’s about discovering the best parts of it.
This baptism represents a new beginning. Not perfection. But intention. A commitment to live with humility, courage, and faith—and to trust that while we take our steps, God directs the path.
I was blind to my selfish desires. But now I see more clearly.
Thank you for walking with me. Thank you for being here. And thank you for helping make this day one my sons will never forget.
For Brock, Jack, Millie, and George.
The best parts of my life.
If this resonated with you, I’d be honored if you shared it with someone who needs to hear it.
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