Bottom of the final inning, bases loaded, two out, down by three runs. I stepped to the plate a nervous 12-year-old, clearly about to be the hero or the goat. Anxious, I swung at the first pitch, then watched in horror as the ball bounded toward the shortstop.

My fate was inevitable, so I'm not sure why I even ran. Perhaps because I'd been taught to run out ground balls, or perhaps I ran to first base just because it was in the opposite direction of my dugout and thus would delay the inevitable hangdog reaction I would get from my teammates. With every step, I expected to see the ball arrive at first base, signaling the third out and my failure. Halfway there I glanced to my left, expecting to find the ball in flight from the shortstop. Instead, to my shock, I saw that the ball roll between his legs.

Hope restored, I rounded first, never taking my eyes off the ball. The stunned left fielder and center fielder reacted too slowly and allowed the ball to roll between them as I rounded second. Approaching third, I broke the base running rules by looking over my shoulder. I saw that the outfielders had over-reacted in their haste, overrun the ball and allowed it to bounce back toward the infield. I strutted home to a hero's welcome.

My life has been much like that ‘grand slam' – I've been given much more than I deserve. Mine is a story of re-birth, at age 14 at a YMCA Leadership Conference in Black Mountain, N.C. Until that point, life had been pleasant but fairly non-descript. At a time when a person starts looking for a niche, goals, purpose, I had no particular identifiable gifts or passion. A youth minister from New Orleans sat on the stage in Black Mountain and told us about “my friend, Jesus” and how he walked with him, guided him, and saved him from eternity separated from God. I wanted that friend and invited him into my life immediately.

From that very day, I can trace God's hand in the people I've met, the places I've traveled, even the mistakes I've made. Talents began to be revealed and take shape. My personality developed. Searching that led to deeper understanding commenced. It was a slow but steady process of growth, amply messed up by my regular mistakes, sure-handedly put back in place by the Master Designer.

The journey was from Cleveland, Tenn., with parents who provided all the resources and plenty of ‘can do' encouragement; to Knoxville, Tenn., where sports editor Marvin West provided the breaks and All-America Tennessee kicker Alan Duncan much spiritual leadership, to Jackson, Miss., where I met a beautiful, loving young single-again mom who had recently met my friend Jesus, and a vibrant four-year-old, who agreed to merge their journey with mine; to West Palm Beach, Fla., where the journalism career and spiritual growth kicked into high gear, oddly conflicting with each other at crucial junctures, and where the youth minister who introduced me to Jesus Christ came back into my life as pastor and mentor; to Antigua, West Indies, where ministry failure and a hurricane blew us to seminary in Wake Forest, N.C., where Alvin Reid, Paige Patterson and dozens of others chiseled and sharpened; to Charlotte, N.C., where long-time NFL quarterback Frank Reich refined my leadership as we worked together for the largest Christian web site in the world; to Knoxville, Tn., where the Lord allows me to minister to great people in a great church, and continue to write.

The journey is one of God's forgiveness and grace. God is a Father who desires to give good gifts to His children. He has a plan for each of us, a plan to give us a hope and a future. His Son came to give us abundant life – if only we will receive. As I live out the abundant life He gave me, I'm amazed at how it all fits together, and I'm enthralled daily by the opportunity to make a difference, careful never to forget that He is the real Difference Maker.

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