Whenever I hear someone talk about the Lord in arrogant, dismissive tones, my heart breaks for them. However, they mask it- as intelligence, wisdom, or snark- I know what the problem is. They’ve only heard about the goodness of God. They’ve never seen it. They’ve never watched God redeem tragedy and death. Maybe it’s by choice, and maybe it’s ignorance. Either way, they’re wrong. I wish they could behold the glory and compassion of the Lord as I have.

The Back Story

In the summer of 2001, I decided to attend the MorningStar School of Ministry in Charlotte, North Carolina. I moved into an apartment with some older students that fall, and soon I discovered the McMillan family. Robin was pastor of the church and a frequent teacher at the ministry school. His wife Donna was quiet and sweet. (She remains one of the best people I know, the gem of the McMillan family.) And all of their children were roughly my age. I bonded with Chris, the middle son, over the crass dick jokes and good food.

The oldest McMillan brother was a lanky, awkward young man when I first met him. He wanted to be taken seriously as an adult while he mixed crude jokes with deep thoughts. John Mark never seemed to focus on a conversation for long and rarely faked interest in topics he considered boring. He was insecure yet embraced himself. I admired that.

Not long after I befriended the McMillan family, I met Steve Coffey. He was John Mark’s best friend and a third-year ministry school student. Steve was fun, confident, and perpetually hopeful. Naturally, most of us wanted to follow in his footsteps, and most of the single ladies wanted to have his babies.

(In the interest of honesty, I’ll say my friendship with Steve was not an especially deep one. Most of our time together was spent in a group.) I can only recall a handful of intentional hangs.

Life After 9/11

September of 2001 was full of uncertainty, existential fear, and the unmerited optimism of youth. Our knowledge of countries like Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia skyrocketed from ignorant to less ignorant. Osama Bin Laden became a regular topic of conversation. Undeterred by any of it, we felt invincible.

While the United States and the Western world combated terrorism, I kept a beer journal and spent most evenings playing Rook with a group of young ladies. Chris continued his budding career as a sound engineer. John Mark wrote catchy worship songs, and Steve’s optimism never wavered. Between prayer meetings and classes, we played frisbee golf and smoked chocolate-flavored cigars. Whatever fears gripped other people, we talked only of the inevitable glory to come.

It’s the gift of youth to believe you will not fall into the traps of age. I know this because I thought I was special too. My life wouldn’t be like those old poor suckers perpetually frustrated and annoyed. I was gonna do big things for God and change the world. We all felt that way. None of us could’ve predicted what was to come.

2002: Second Year

My first year at ministry school was plagued by confusion and disappointment. I read the assigned books, attended lectures, and wrote pointless papers. When the school dean said I should be more involved in various ministries, I followed his instructions. As I write this post, I’m not sure what it was for. I can’t remember a single word from any of the books or lectures, and the ministry work was a collective wash.

Despite the dissatisfaction of my first year, I signed up for a second year. I was to intern under one of the leaders to “learn about real ministry.” Why? Perhaps it seemed like the thing to do. On the upside, my decision kept me in Charlotte and a relationship with all my new friends.

By October, I was lost in my internship. The lectures and books didn’t seem applicable to anything in my life. The leader I was assigned to was the walking definition of distant. Even more, I started to feel like a failure. My life did not measure up to the high standard presented to me. I masturbated, drank too much, and played Halo to kill the pain. Aware of this slide, my friends tried to buoy my heart.

One sunny afternoon I went to walk around the duck pond with friends. Steve was there and did what Steve did. He listened to my pain and heard the sorrow in my voice. After a while, he smiled at me and said, “Your awesome, and you’ll do amazing things for Jesus.” I chalked it up to ‘Steve being Steve.’

A week later, Steve and John Mark stopped by for dinner with the roommates. We drank Blue Moons and smoked cloves into the night. It was the kind of commonplace hang I crave now. Nothing special happened, but it was a special moment. We were just kids, unburdened by a disaster.

An Unmitigated Tragedy

It’s a blur of a memory, and I think it was during the week- Friday maybe? On November 1st, 2002, Steve was in a fiery car accident, and it wasn't good. I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, but I assumed he’d be ok. Like the good ministry students we were, we prayed for him.

Later that night, my roommate woke me up to deliver the final news: Steve was dead. Stunned and without direction, we walked downstairs and sat in silence for hours as we tried to understand the moment.

Unlike most of my friends, I was not shocked. My young life was plagued by death from the time I was three years old. I learned how to distance myself from the grief, and I didn’t question death when it raided my life. Steve was just another friend I lost in an auto accident. (Just two years prior, I lost Haley Sirochman to a car crash as a freshman at Clemson.) At least that’s what I told myself. In truth, I avoided grief. They questioned everything and tried to find meaning at the moment. I went on as normal.

The next week, I quietly refused to attend Steve’s memorial service at the church. Group grief is difficult for me to handle. Afterward, my roommates told me about the swarm of broken kids who packed the church (Steve was one of the more popular youth leaders.) Someone made a video tribute. John Mark performed a new song to honor our friend. To hear them recall it, the event was a sad and powerful moment.

In the aftermath of Steve’s death, our optimism began to disappear. The drinking accelerated. I dropped out of ministry school and drifted into a dangerous level of depression. It was a hole that eventually led to my second bout with suicide. Steve’s death was not the cause, but it was a contributing factor to my condition.

Whatever God was, I wasn’t his man. Steve was. He was the rising star, and I couldn’t hack my internship.

Life Goes On

My second attempt at an internship proved to be more of the same frustration and disappointments. Somehow…in 2003, I decided to re-enroll in ministry school to finish what I started. Once again, the true treasure came in the form of what became life-long relationships. Chris continued to serve as the church sound guy, and John Mark took Steve’s spot as a youth pastor.

When I “graduated” in 2004, I didn’t have a clue what the future held. Unlike many ambitious religious men, I did not go into ministry. Instead, I went into bartending. During the day, I read Mere Christianity. By night, I slung alcohol to Charlotte’s privileged middle class.

Ministry was not in my future. In the early 2000s, it required men of impeccable reputation. I made mistakes, but my foot my mouth, and admitted to porn addiction. I was damaged goods. To find a useful education, I decided to go to classes at the local community college.

God Moves

Do you remember where you were in November of 2005? I do. I was enrolled at CPCC and worked at Wolfman Pizza. In my time at CPCC, I found one of the best teachers ever to instruct students. Karin Guardalabene was amazing. She knew how to teach each student and managed to Machen Lernen Deutsch fub.

Chris was dating or engaged to his wife? I’m not positive, but I know the relationship was in motion.

John Mark dropped his second album- The Song Inside The Sound of Breaking Down. At the time, my favorite song from this album was Alive. It was a tribute to our friend Mark Mathis. (Mark is a genius singer/songwriter in his own right.)

The last song on the original release is How He Loves. It’s the powerful song John Mark sang at Steve’s memorial service. I’d heard it a hundred times since Steve’s death, and now it was available to the public. It never occurred to me this song could be an anthem. Who did? It was the last song, tacked onto the end of an album.

Hey Man, Did You Know?

Fast forward to 2009. I moved to the southern coalfields of West Virginia to work with a now-defunct NGO. Most of my days consisted of staff meetings, renovation projects, and volunteer coordination. I stayed up to date with my Charlotte crew via Facebook and text message. John Mark toiled away as a singer/songwriter. Chris, ever steady by my standard, continued to mix tracks.

In our social circle was a charismatic man named Aswan, and he was determined to be in the next Bono. His band Paper Tongues released their debut album and seemed destined for stardom. From the sidelines, I tracked their progress. By the summer of 2009, Paper Tongues was on tour as the opening band for Fly Leaf.

I stayed up-to-date on the band via Google and YouTube, and I stumbled upon this video. It’s Fly Leaf. Unbeknownst to me was the fact that members of Fly Leaf are Christians. In this video, they sing How He Loves as an encore to close a concert. I was stunned. To my amazement, I texted John Mark, “Dude, did you know Fly Leaf is singing ‘How He Loves?” John Mark responded, “Yeah, man. It’s cool.”

As it happens on YouTube, one video led to another. I soon discovered the Kim Walker version of How He Loves, and all the other variations of the song born of a tragedy. I was thrilled, and then amazed. My joy for John Mark’s success gave way to something completely unexpected after I began to read the comments below each video. Person after person, the world over, testified to how this song- written by an awkward man from Charlotte, North Carolina- pulled them out of despair and hopelessness. What was God doing?

How He Loves Us

Nearly seven years after Steve’s death, How He Loves started to grow in popularity among worship leaders. Kim Walker-Smith, David Crowder, and your worship leader covered it. It’s not hard to see why. The dramatic imagery and raw vulnerability were so unusual (at the time) and needed. Even atheists couldn’t ignore it. The words meant more than John Mark ever intended when he wrote them:

He is jealous for me
Love's like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great your affections are for me

Oh, how He loves us so
Oh, how He loves us
How He loves us so

Yeah, He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves

Yeah, He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves

So we are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking
So heaven meets Earth like a sloppy wet kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way

That He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves

He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves

Oh, I thought about You the day Stephen died
And You met me between my breaking
I know that I still love You, God
Despite the agony
Listen, people, they want to tell me You're cruel
But if Stephen could sing
He'd say it's not true, 'cause

'Cause He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves

Yeah, He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us.

Josh Cranfill

In 2014, I moved to Redding, California. It’s the home of Bethel Church, which gave rise to Kim Walker-Smith. It could be said that she gave How He Loves the boost it needed to be considered part of the modern Christian lexicon. Being who I am, I was unaware of this. I didn’t move to Redding for Bethel or Kim Walker-Smith.

I moved to Redding because I needed a job and a new start in life. My good friend Simeon gave me that opportunity, and I took it.

That first job in Redding was with a tech company, NComputing. It was a challenging and thorough education in sales. In truth, I wasn’t prepared for the fast-paced California startup world. Each day and every week, I was measured. My worth to the company was on display at all times. The pressure was relentless.

Similar to my ministry school experience, my most meaningful takeaway are the relationships I formed. Of which, the most enduring and profound friendship is with Josh Cranfill. He’s as much a brother to me as anyone could be. He speaks his mind on any given subject and stands strong when life turns ugly. I appreciate his stubborn honesty. He’s the type of man you want in your corner, no matter what.

We lived together for a bit before he got married. One of my favorite memories was the night we discovered Peaky Blinders. We watched the entire first season in one marathon session. Later on, we would make what I still consider to be the greatest cheeseburgers of all time.

As I got to know him, Josh began to hint at his past and the man he was before Jesus. It’s a past full of addiction and pain. On an ordinary day, he spoke more openly about his deliverance. I’ll never forget what he said. This man, on the other side of America and so disconnected from me, locked himself in a room and he played How He Loves non-stop.

Prior to that day, I’d only read the comments on YouTube or watched videos. It was the first time I heard a testimony from someone I knew but didn’t know Steve or the story behind the song. I think my response to Josh’s tale was probably something like “yeah man, that’s cool.” But, inside I melted into a puddle of sorrow and joy.

All Things Work For Good

It might be flawed logic, but I can’t see it any other way. Jesus took the tragedy of Steve Coffey’s f*cked up death, and turned it into a love anthem for the entire world. It’s redemption of the highest form, and an act only made possible by God. Josh Cranfill is in my life because God is good, and in part because of that song. Thousands and perhaps millions of people can make the same statement. The Lord used How He Loves to show them something they longed to see, and sing them a song they needed to hear.

I’m so glad John Mark decided to wake up in the early hours of November 2nd, 2002 to finish the song he had only started to write. It’s a demonstration of what can happen when we decide to walk away from shame and sorrow into the arms of the Holy Spirit. My friend wasn’t writing a song for the masses, he was pouring his heart out in an empty room, with nary a thought or inkling of what was to come.

Do I believe the Lord caused Steve to die 18 years ago? As a trick to get John Mark to write a song? No. More importantly, I don’t care. I’m not interested in the theological or philosophical implications. What I plainly see is the God we all want to know is real, is real. He is the God who welcomes lost sheep back into the fold, who runs to the prodigal son, who sacrifices Himself for His kids. In the face of disaster and grief, He plays the long game. He’s everything good we hoped He could be.

So, when I hear someone talk about an ugly or vengeful God, I think of Steve. I think about the atheist who can’t run from Him. I think about Josh Cranfill and his beautiful daughters. I think about all of the people across the planet who were locked in darkness, and God used a song to pierce it.

I am blessed to be a witness of this grace and kindness. And, I’m overjoyed at being able to testify to what I know and what I’ve seen. God will redeem anything and anyone. That’s how great His love is.

It’s been 18 years and it will be a hundred more before How He Loves begins to fade. It stands as an echo of God’s love for His kids, and how He moves. He didn’t flinch the night Steven died. The Father welcomed his son home, and looked into the future, to the Josh Cranfills and Nik Curfmans. Then He spoke to a young poet, “Tell them the truth. Tell them I love them without end.”

It’s an epic miracle, and the story needs to be told. The song is a good song, but the story and arc of the song are even better.