Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 4/12/21 Nik Curfman 4/12/21

Journal: #254 Looking Forward to Summer

It’s the goodness of God for Him to redeem something as small as how I anticipate upcoming seasons of life. And if He sweats the small aspects of our lives, how much more does He care about our bodies, future relationships, and jobs. Mucho. That’s how much more. Mucho. That’s the word I give myself, and I embrace all the promises He gave me.

Later this week the temperature in Redding will rise above 90°. It will be the first ant to the picnic. Many of his friends will soon follow. For our part, we try to hang onto the last pleasant days of Spring. I’m looking forward to high temperatures and endless sun. My plans include spending as much time as I can outside- hiking, swimming, finding shade late in the day when the temperature breaks and slight breezes cool the air. The odd part is I hated summer time, until last year.

I come by my dislike of summer honestly. The summer months in Columbia, South Carolina are a swampy oppressive mess. It’s humid from sun up to sun down, and the mosquitoes are aggressive. The only respite are the afternoon thunderstorms, but only on occasion. The aftermath of a banger ranges from delightfully cooler temperatures to a sauna like affect. There’s nothing worse than a mid-morning thunderstorm followed by even more humidity. The air sticks to your lungs and completely negates the purpose of our excretory system. I spent most of those summers mowing the lawn, dusting the den, and dodging vacation bible school. I desperately tried to avoid the bugs and haze.

Into my teen years, summer became about preparing for the upcoming football season. While I loved football, I hated workouts and practice. Then into my early 20’ through my 30’s, each summer became a time of endurance. I didn’t understand I didn’t need to hate summers (even though my heart loves autumn, her colors, cool mornings, and long shadows of each afternoon.) I had to embrace what summer offers. Only took me 39 years to figure it out.

As hard as last summer was, I found myself in the Lord. I rediscovered by heart and began to write. The Lord gave me vision for my life and led me onto a new trail. It was the sweetest time in my life, and in the matter of a few months erased my hatred of June, July, and August. The shift was sudden as I now find myself looking ahead to hottest months of the year. I expect to advance in life and in the kingdom this summer, because that’s my new normal.

Thank you Lord for loving me and redeeming time and seasons. You are good.

Amen.

Nik Curfman 2/18/21 Nik Curfman 2/18/21

Journal: #209 Not My(Dating) Story PT. 4

The difference is Mike believes in himself in way I couldn’t understand- until recently. He believed he could be successful at something despite a huge failure. I find it utterly amazing. That’s what I want for my life. No failure is too great if I keep moving.

Last year, I failed. I had want I wanted. She didn’t want me. So, I’m gonna be like Mike. I’m gonna keep trucking, and believe in who the Lord created me to be.

This is the fourth and final installment of my dating stories meant to encourage myself and other single people. In the intro I wrote about my heart break last this year. Part 1 is about Bob and his path to Kelly. Bob overcame his pain and cynicism to go after Kelly, and they are wonderful together. Part 2 looks at Phil, and his long winding path to marriage. He was patient. It paid off. Part 3 is the tale of Willie, his divorce, and faith in the Lord.

When Mike married Janet it was a glorious spring afternoon. The real highlight was the surprise/drunk bagpipe player hired to play amazing grace for the ceremony. Mike and Janet were solid through all types of adversity. And, then they weren’t.

College Sweethearts

I met Mike twenty years ago at his house just before he married Janet. They were college sweethearts and looked the part. Mike was and remains a bit on the reserved side. He prefers to hang back while Janet bounces around every room she enters. They played music together and dreamed of touring the country.

Solid, Right?

Mike and Janet didn’t just dream of making music and touring the country. They did it. Mike produce an album while still in college. After they married, the Janet began to make appearances on following albums. The pair then started writing songs together, and produced a few more albums. In the summer of 2007, they got to do what they dreamed of doing- tour the country.

Not long after the tour Janet became pregnant with their first child, a boy. The pregnancy was hard on Janet’s narrow body. She pull through but it was a traumatizing moment. Mike supported Janet the way you’d think a husband should. They even let several needy friends crash in their spare room for a bit.

Mike and Janet remained a strong couple in my community. They hosted parties and held people accountable. Their door was always open, and MySpace proved they lacked for nothing. Their music never hit the charts, but they seemed fine with it. Life is more than music.

Child No. 2

In a way, Mike and Janet’s daughter was a miracle. Mike and Janet did not plan to have a second child based on their experience with the first. They put several measures in place to ensure Janet would not become pregnant. (Their daughter is proof no birth control is 100% affective.)

The pregnancy was not the hurdle the second time around. The developing baby girl had a heart defect, which would require surgery with days of birth. Most children are born with great joy. Their daughter was not. Two days later she had open heart surgery, then again a few months later. I lost count how many she had in total, but it was a lot.

I Don’t Know What Happened

I can’t say what cracked Mike and Janet. I know every couple struggles at some point and weaknesses. The head-scratcher is Mike and Janet were often vulnerable about the difficulties and hurdles they face. I thought they were one of the healthy couples. I thought they’d make it. I should’ve notice when they “took a break” from playing music. Something was off.

They’ll Work It? No, They Will Not

Mike and Janet separated around the same time Willie and Amy did. Along with my personal issues, my community was falling apart. (Willie and Amy were never the solid couple Mike and Janet were.) I somewhat expected Willie and Amy to divorce, but not Mike and Janet. I thought they’d find their way back to each other.

They did not.

Since it’s mostly rumors and one-sided stories (from Mike), I will forgo details. It’s my view they both gave up, and likely for different reasons. I knew it was over when Mike began to openly expressed his anger at Janet, and when Janet posted “You gotta grow up sometime” to Facebook. Whatever happened, they did not want to stay married to each other.

Mike Moves On

After the divorce, Mike didn’t take long to move on. I don’t think he was looking for his next wife, but he found Lydia on a dance floor in the NoDa neighborhood of north Charlotte. She is kind and quiet like Mike. I always get a kick out of the fact that she kinda looks like Janet, but that’s where the similarities end.

Lydia is a hero is my book. She started dating Mike during a nasty divorce, and became an all-star stepmother to his two kids. She accepted and loves Mike for who is. For me, it was good to see. I needed to see a woman love an imperfect man the way she did.

Mike Just Keeps Being Mike

What I love and admire about Mike is he who is. He’s always been a bit quiet. He’s always written and played music. I hope he never stops. It’s who he is. I’m sure some part of him would love to make money playing music, but he hasn’t let a lack of commercial success stop him. I am still struggling to get started doing what I love. Mike never stopped. Even in the middle his divorce he put out one of the most honest and raw albums I’ve ever heard.

A God of Redemption

I choose to believe most people mean “I do” the day they get married. So I can’t imagine the heartbreak of a divorce. I can’t imagine what it’s like to build a life, to overcome so much adversity the way Mike and Janet did, only to throw in the towel. Some part of me feels like it’s a waste. Didn’t they love each other? Yes. I think they did.

Last year taught me love isn’t enough. Marriage require something more, call it grit, fight, or stubbornness. I think at some point Mike and Janet ran out of juice. They were empty, and it’s a bad place to be when life slaps at our face. We all need Jesus at our center. We need His word in our heart. The other person should never have to lift that burden.

Where I find encouragement in Mike’s story is he kept trucking. At at time when I questioned marriage he got married, had kids, got divorced, and remarried. On some level, that’s faith in the Holy Spirit. I can barely date someone new years after a break up, and this dude is out there getting remarried? Maybe, I’m wrong.

Last year, I failed. I had want I wanted. She didn’t want me. So, I’m gonna be like Mike. I’m gonna keep trucking, and believe in who the Lord created me to be.

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Nik Curfman 1/28/21 Nik Curfman 1/28/21

Journal: #189 Not My(Dating) Story PT. 3

Willie is a sexy man. I write this without shame or hesitation. He’s athletic, charming, and possesses a strong jawline. I like to watch heads turn whenever he walks through a crowd of people. In another life, he could’ve been a male model after his soccer career.

This is the third installment of my dating stories meant to encourage myself and other single people. In the intro I wrote about my heart break earlier this year. Part 1 is about Bob and his path to Kelly. Bob overcame his pain and cynicism to go after Kelly, and they are wonderful together. Part 2 looks at Phil, and his long winding path to marriage. He was patient. It paid off.

Dating is an introduction. It’s often misleading. No amount of dating can prepare someone for marriage. This next narrative is rough and heart-breaking, but ultimately ends in redemption. Part 3 is the story of Willie.

Willie Is That Dude

What I love about the attention he receives is Willie doesn’t care about his affect on women. He loves Jesus with all his heart, and decided to spend his life pointing the youth and young adults to the Lord. I first met Willie in a laundry room of a working class apartment complex. He was teaching Bible verses to the kids assembled there.

Willie Meets Amy

Willie met Amy at friend’s house. After a few group hangs, they began to date. By all accounts, it was a great match. He was a dashing young minister, and she a beautiful budding artist. They were married about 18 months after they started dating.

(Before I go on I want to say something. The rest of the tale of Willie and Amy is ugly, and I experienced Willie’s side of it. Every marriage and relationship involves two people. Two people have issues. Two people contribute to disfunction. The only path to stay together is when two people decided to commit to their marriage and find answers to the problems that plague them.)

No Happy ever After

According to Willie, his marriage encountered its first major hurdles on their honeymoon. Like good church folk, they smiled in public while trying to work it out in the dark. They tried counseling and read books. Nothing working. No magic key existed.

Their Hail Mary came in the form of their daughter Madison. In truth, when they had Madison, the situation only worsened. Willie tried to soothe his shame by ministering more than ever, went to counseling twice a week, and prayed every prayer possible to keep his marriage alive.

At this point in the story, I’m not sure what effort Amy made to save her marriage. I do know via social media she stopped using her married name long before the divorce was finalized. In my mind, she gave up.

From Bad to Worse

To add insult to injury, Amy filed emergency paperwork to have the courts consider Willie an unfit parent. She said he was abusive and a drunk. The court filings said his friends were alcoholics. Though not named, I was one of those people. I was not an alcoholic, but, that’s not the real travesty.

No one who spent five minutes with Willie and his daughter Madison would question their bond, his love for her, or his devotion to her safety and well-being. Amy used the courts to stick it to Willie in the worst possible ways. The marriage burned to the ground, but don’t take his daughter away. It took me years to forgive her for it.

Is Marriage Really Worth It?

At the same time Willie and Amy were suffering through the end of a difficult marriage, I was struggling too. I reeled from an abusive relationship and questioned why anyone would get married. The price appeared to be too high and rewards too slight. I didn’t have the ability to believe in the goodness of God. The lack of healthy marriages around me didn’t help.

Willie The Gracious

After the divorce, Willie suffered. He had to fight legal battle after legal battle. He was forced to step down from a leadership position at an NGO, learned to code, and continued therapy.

Despite all of it, he kept his faith in the Lord. At one of the lowest points in his journey through this hell, he said something I’ll never forget. During a custody hearing, a witness for his ex-wife took the stand and lied. A lot. Willie was angry, and knew enough about the witness to destroy her credibility to the judge. All he needed to do was lean over, whisper the sins of the witness to his lawyer, and let him pick this woman apart.

When I asked Willie why he didn’t do it, he said the words forever etched into my mind. “I didn’t want to win that way. I didn’t want to win by ruining someone’s life. It might take longer, but I trust the Lord to defend me.” I was floored. In the middle of a nasty custody battle, with the ashes of his marriage still on his heart, Willie had the grace to love his enemy.

Trusting the Lord: Faith

As the next year unfolded, Willie won small custody battles, began to minister again, and met Laura.

It was only about a year from the time they met until when they got married on a chilly Tennessee evening. In my mind, they married fast- Willie and Laura. I wondered if Willie acted hastily. The reports I got about Laura said she was sheltered woman who rarely dated. Perhaps like Amy, she idolized Willie.

I’ve never been more happy to be wrong. Laura is a human, which means she has flaws. In more Biblical terms, she is a blessing and the partner Willie needed. They minister as a team, and have similar vision for their lives. More importantly, they love each other. Willie and Laura face challenges instead of run from them.

A God of Redemption

As an observer of Willie’s life, I’m amazed by the grace and mercy of the Lord in his life. He said his forever “I do” to Amy, and believed his word was true. No one at that wedding envisioned the the struggle ahead, the contentious divorce, or horrid custody battle. In the aftermath, I couldn’t see how he’d move forward from the devastation. I’m not sure Willie did either.

What he had, and still has, is constant connection to the Holy Spirit. His heart broke. I was there. I saw it. But, he stood tall in the Spirit. He trusts the Lord to bring him better days when life sucks, and I’m blessed to be a witness.

I Trust the Lord, Not an Outcome

Last year, I thought I found my forever woman, but I was the only one. The breakup crushed my heart, and it’s still tough for me to imagine something better. That’s why I’m thankful I have Willie as an example in my life. I refuse to be motivated by anger. Instead, I want to lean into the Lord, and trust Him to bring me to someone better. Whoever she is.

Lord…thank you for Willie, Laura, and even Amy. I’m grateful to watch how you redeem the broken and heal our hearts. I’ve seen your grace and gentle glory rest on my friends. Thank you. Thank you for hearing my prayers for Willie to bring him someone like Laura. Thank you that she’s any amazing wife to him. Bless them both.

Amen.

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Nik Curfman 11/26/20 Nik Curfman 11/26/20

Journal: #129 How He Loves Us

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.”

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.