Tim modeled early morning quiet time. He modeled group prayer. He modeled evangelism, Scripture memory—basically all the disciplines of faith. Yet he was probably the most fun person I’ve ever been around. I began to think, This is the model of how it works. This is who I want to be. He rides the waves of God’s will, and God moves him along effortlessly, yet look at what he accomplishes!
One thing I forgot to mention about Bro T. He is legally blind. A heart attack years ago affected his sight, leaving him blinded in the hospital. It hasn’t slowed him down one bit. “What I lost in sight,” Tim says often, “God made up for with my memory.” Bro T is a walking Bible. He may have the entire New Testament committed to memory.
One week, the camp was hosting a music camp. People came from all over the country to participate. I walked into the dining hall for lunch, and it was filled with faces I didn’t know. Except for one. I looked over at a nearby table and spotted Pastor Celoria. Seven years earlier, I’d been trying to build a multilevel marketing business. This man had told me he was placing all his trust in me, and he invested a great sum in our plan based on his people’s contributions—and then the business had gone belly-up.
At the time, he was the one client I couldn’t face. Who knows how he found out he’d lost it all? It wasn’t from me. I’d changed my number, moved on quickly, and carried the burden of that sin ever since. As a nonbeliever, I’d felt it weighing on my conscience. As a Christian, I felt the conviction of the Spirit.
I froze in place when I saw the pastor and his wife all these years later, happily chatting over their lunch. I walked out of the dining hall as quickly as I could. I just didn’t have the courage to speak to him. All day I thought about it, and as soon as I had an extra moment with Tim, I told him the story. He listened carefully, nodding along. I finished explaining, and said, “Brother Tim, what should I do?”
He didn’t hesitate. “That’s an easy one. You have to go and ask for forgiveness. You needed to do it seven years ago, but God has given you a second chance.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” I sat and thought about it, prayed about it. Tim was right—I had to face up to it and do the right thing.
I had trouble sleeping that night, but lunchtime came around the next day and I clutched my tray with white knuckles. I found Pastor Celoria and headed his way. He spotted me when I was halfway there, and his face lit up as he recognized me.
“Hi, Brother Celoria,” I said.
“Robby! What in the world are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in so long. How have you been?”
“Just fine, sir, but I need to say something do you.”
“Okay?”
“I owe you an apology,” I said. He must have seen my nervousness, and it must have made quite a contrast with the self-assured young guy he’d known. “I treated you poorly. You see, I got the word that our business ran out of money, and I just couldn’t—”
When he saw the tears rolling down my cheeks, he stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. “Stop, son, you don’t need to apologize for anything. You’ve just made my day. Will you join us, and tell us why you’re here this week? We want to hear what God is doing in your life.”
I couldn’t believe it. He was honestly delighted to see me! How would I have handled it if I’d been in his shoes? I learned a lesson in forgiveness and mercy I’ve never forgotten. We had an amazing conversation in which he brought me up-to-date on his church, and I held him spellbound with my testimony. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. His wife wept. So did I. There were hugs all around.
At one point, Brother Celoria looked me in the eye and said to me, “I always knew, Robby, that if God got ahold of your heart, there’d be no telling what he would do with you.”
Not only did I learn about forgiveness that day, but also about how God wants to heal our emotional scars—even old ones. If we’ll put him first and walk in obedience to him, he’ll work in the supernatural realm to bring healing to things we’ve messed up in the physical realm.
When I came rushing back to Tim to tell him the whole story, he was as happy about it as I was. He was teaching me so many things, but this was a lesson that had to come directly from heaven.
During one of my long talks with Tim, I found myself invoking the name “Kandi” for about the ninth time in the last five minutes. I have no idea what the spiritual topic was, but Tim bypassed it. Instead, he said, “Listen, brother, when are you going to marry that girl?”
I gulped. “Tim, I can barely afford to take care of me; I don’t have any money. We’ve just been dating three months or so anyway. I’ve got three years to go in seminary. I’m a struggling itinerant preacher, and a full-time student who works part-time for his father. I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“You’re ready.”
“What?”
“Robby, don’t you think that if God can care for one, he can care for two? Has he given you a tight budget, or has he asked you to trust him to provide?”
When Tim spoke, I listened. When the summer ended, I came back to Louisiana, bought a ring, and proposed two weeks later. After ten months of dating, we were married on December 18, 2004, one week before Christmas.
I had to stop and catch my breath when I
