As I work through my story, I realize over and over again how God sends people into our lives at just the right time. When I was begging God for someone to disciple me, he sent David. When I couldn’t figure out what to do with my summer, God sent my friend Byron, who could testify to Tim’s excellence as a disciple-maker. When I couldn’t decide what to do about my relationship with Kandi, Tim was there to speak into my life the principles and discernment I needed to move forward and propose marriage.
We’re never alone. Wherever we are, whatever we face, God will send someone to offer the wisdom and guidance we need. All we need to do is to be open and receptive. From the bottom of my heart, I thank the Lord for his grace and providence during a formative period of my ministerial life. I may have been Ignorance on Fire, but I discovered fire isn’t a bad thing. As one of my favorite preachers, Leonard Ravenhill, used to say, “You don’t have to advertise a fire; it advertises itself.”
I was a walking billboard of God’s grace.
Chapter 18
He Speaks from the Whirlwind
In 2005, I was a newlywed with a life not too far from perfect. I was in the city I loved with the bride I loved, and we were together on the campus where I was studying. Kandi had a job there. We also lived rent-free in the home of my grandfather, while he stayed with my parents.
I continued my preparation for some form of ministry—but what kind? I wasn’t the typical seminary student. For one thing, I was receiving invitations to come and preach, sharing my story and a few magic tricks. It was so clear that God had taken nearly all of those opportunities away when I’d sunk back into addiction. Now, to my surprise, the phone began to ring again while I was in seminary. God was gradually restoring opportunities to serve him.
But those invitations created a bit of tension and resentment of me on campus. Here I was, still a new believer compared to many of them, still learning some of the basics of the faith—and yet I was already helping to finance my education through preaching engagements.
Some of the students questioned my speaking schedule. I can understand how some might have said, “Why should he get so many invitations? Why should his message be more valuable than ours? He’s a new convert! This guy is sharing the gospel with tricks and gimmicks instead of sound theology.”
It wasn’t just the magic, of course. There was no “smoke and mirrors” when it came to my testimony, and I always felt that was the true heart of what I had to offer.
But I could sense the skepticism, and it played on my own vulnerabilities, because I still fought self-doubts. I still struggled with the old identity question. Who is Robby Gallaty?
Well, he was no longer an addict. He was no longer lost. He was a committed follower of Jesus Christ, and he was pursuing a full-time ministry. But was I good enough? Was I mature enough? And what kind of ministry would fit someone like me?
To be candid, I grew tired of having to apologize for my lack of depth when it came to Bible knowledge. I was learning as fast as I could. I was fully committed. What else was I supposed to do?
In one of the campus Bible studies, a student began teaching on James 3:1, which says, “Not many should become teachers, my brothers, because you know that we will receive a stricter judgment.” He was hammering home the point about needing the maturity to teach. As he continued to talk, I noticed his hand kept sweeping in my direction, as if pointing me out. “Too many people rush out to preach and teach when they’re not ready,” he said. “They’ll receive a stricter judgment.” His eyes brushed across mine.
Maybe it was subconscious or maybe it was deliberate; for me, it seemed pretty clear where he was aiming his message. I sat and stewed, and at the end of the session, I wanted to confront him about it. “Do you have a problem with me, brother?” I asked. I only wanted to talk with him about it directly. But when you’re six-and-a-half feet tall, you can be imposing without intending it. Several other students jumped in between us: “Come on now, Robby—let’s stay calm.”
I could only sigh in exasperation. I wasn’t going to knock anyone out; I just wanted us to clear the air.
This kind of thing only added to my sense of alienation from the student body, other than my closest friends. The way I looked at it, everybody else had a head start in being “seasoned.” I couldn’t catch up with them. They were made for the pastorate, most of them. I felt like the apostle Paul when he said, “Last of all, as to one born at the wrong time, he also appeared to me” (1 Cor. 15:8).
Why wasn’t I saved in college? Why did I have to endure drugs and alcohol? Why did I have to lose so many friends before I found Christ? Why did it
