The Journey
Back in February, I had the incredible opportunity to attend a training conference led by Dr. Dan Allender. If you haven't read any of Dan's work, do so immediately.
At this conference and through Dan's work, I've learned more about what it means to hold stories with honor.
That being said, I would ask that you hold this story with honor. See the perpetual faithfulness of the Lord throughout it. Keep in mind that this life and this heart is still being created, is still being made new.
Growing up with an unchurched childhood was probably one of the greatest blessings I've ever received. With every trial encountered during childhood, I knew, "There's gotta be something more than this." The only way that thought could have entered my mind was through the Lord pursuing me, as I didn't know Him yet. I remember vividly during one of the greatest challenges that tiny Ashton faced, my mother being ill, sitting down in the tub with the shower going, my face in my hands, sobbing. I had just watched my mom get sick once more after Chemotherapy, and it was all too much for the mind and heart of 9 year old Ashton to hold. After this session of outward sorrow, I went outside to take care of the chickens. I remember sitting on the edge of this rock wall that was right behind our chicken house. With my feet dangling over this wall, I said "Is this all there is? Surely not. God, if You're real, You'll heal my mom." Although my home was unchurched, I had been to a VBS once at my Aunt and Uncle's church. This prayer was the first time I had ever prayed, and man it was a bold and dangerous prayer. Sure enough, after what seemed like forever, my mother beat cancer.
As time went on, I wouldn't define my upbringing one that was simple or easy. As the first death of a best friend occurred at the age of 12, this anger that had been boiling deep within me was brought to the surface.
"FORGET. THIS.
She was 12. She was killed by her mother. 12 year olds aren't supposed to die. My best friends aren't supposed to die." These were the thoughts that ran through my mind at dizzying speeds. This sorrow was different. This sorrow was pure rage. "At least it can't get any worse than this." I was wrong. I was so wrong.
In the next 5 years, I would have 6 more people that I was really close with pass away, some in freak accidents, some on purpose.
This rage that was rooted in deep hurt that I wouldn't understand until years later defined my life. I found myself constantly living with a torn identity; Trying to hold on the mask that helped everything to seem alright, and the pain being stronger than what I could handle.
A friend that I had met through sports began to see through this mask, and she knew that something had to be done. 8 years ago, she tricked me into going on a trip with her youth group. As soon as I figured out what was going on, it was too late.
Well, shoot.
So I went, and although I was so afraid of these people and what they believed, I felt..comfortable. In some strange, odd way. It was as if I were home. It made absolutely no sense. As time went on, I would eventually start to attend this youth group. I started going simply to tell the youth pastor how wrong he was about all of this. How he was wasting his life with this. How there's no way that God is real, and if He is, He is really terrible as I had 2 best friends die, and a cousin commit suicide by this point in time. All within about a year's time. The sponsors and the youth pastor of this youth group simply loved me. They met me right where I was at. The youth pastor allowed me to get up in front of the youth group, and tell the story of my cousin committing suicide. (This would be the first time I would ever speak in public.) The walls were slowly being taken down, piece by piece.
It was towards the end of my freshman year of high school that my youth pastor would ask me "Are you going to heaven?" Well, heck. I don't know. There isn't really an individual, dramatic moment in time where I asked Jesus into my heart. It was a long process. But the moment of that question, something stirred deep within me. This hurricane of rage within me was being settled. It made absolutely no sense. So my sophomore year, my youth pastor announced that he needed small group leaders. I had no idea what a small group was, but my friend that had initially tricked me told me I should sign up to lead. So I did. FOLKS, I SIGNED UP TO LEAD A SMALL GROUP. I HAD NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A SMALL GROUP. Through leading this group, I received a calling into ministry.
Wait, what.
No.
I was going to join the military, and the military was going to pay for my school to be a pharmacist.
No.
No.
NO.
So I told my youth pastor about this, and he began fostering and nurturing this calling. It was around this time that I would start going to Sunday morning church. Although I don't know this for a fact, I have a feeling that my youth pastor told people to seek me out, as the entire church embraced me and loved me so well. This village stepped in, and interceded on my behalf.
The story of the rest of high school is a long one with many seemingly dead ends that the Lord would miraculously make a way, and one of those ways has been a college education at MidAmerica Nazarene University.
MNU has embraced me and fostered this calling into ministry, even when I tried to push them away. MNU has challenged me to step into the presence of the Lord, and rest.
Through MNU, I was invited to an internship with Living Hope Church of the Nazarene. Little did I know, this church would soon become family, and I would be blessed with the best mentor of all time. This church would show me kindness and loyalty. This mentor would be the epitome of incarnate. She would step into my reality, and love me so well through everything, all the while, glorifying Christ.
This summer, I had the amazing opportunity to not only receive my first District License through Kansas City District, but also to watch my mentor, pastor, and best friend be Ordained as an Elder.
I also had the opportunity to hug my parents shortly after receiving my license.
I also had the opportunity to hug some of the key mentors from Fort Scott shortly after receiving my license.
This morning, I took some time to pray over this license, and the future ministry. I thanked the Lord for where I have found myself in the story of God thus far, and asked that my heart be prepared for where I find myself in the future.
I thanked the Lord that He found me where He did.
Many of you have asked what's next, as I am graduating in December. Nothing is set in stone. I have applied for graduate school. I have talked to some pastors. Truly, little to nothing is developed at this time.
So, all I can tell you, is that I'm finding myself to be sitting at the feet of the Lord, and am drinking of the Living Water. I am drinking from the cup in His hand, and eating of His goodness. I am dwelling in His presence, and am so grateful for who He is forming me into.
That's where I find myself in current day.
At this conference and through Dan's work, I've learned more about what it means to hold stories with honor.
That being said, I would ask that you hold this story with honor. See the perpetual faithfulness of the Lord throughout it. Keep in mind that this life and this heart is still being created, is still being made new.
Growing up with an unchurched childhood was probably one of the greatest blessings I've ever received. With every trial encountered during childhood, I knew, "There's gotta be something more than this." The only way that thought could have entered my mind was through the Lord pursuing me, as I didn't know Him yet. I remember vividly during one of the greatest challenges that tiny Ashton faced, my mother being ill, sitting down in the tub with the shower going, my face in my hands, sobbing. I had just watched my mom get sick once more after Chemotherapy, and it was all too much for the mind and heart of 9 year old Ashton to hold. After this session of outward sorrow, I went outside to take care of the chickens. I remember sitting on the edge of this rock wall that was right behind our chicken house. With my feet dangling over this wall, I said "Is this all there is? Surely not. God, if You're real, You'll heal my mom." Although my home was unchurched, I had been to a VBS once at my Aunt and Uncle's church. This prayer was the first time I had ever prayed, and man it was a bold and dangerous prayer. Sure enough, after what seemed like forever, my mother beat cancer.
As time went on, I wouldn't define my upbringing one that was simple or easy. As the first death of a best friend occurred at the age of 12, this anger that had been boiling deep within me was brought to the surface.
"FORGET. THIS.
She was 12. She was killed by her mother. 12 year olds aren't supposed to die. My best friends aren't supposed to die." These were the thoughts that ran through my mind at dizzying speeds. This sorrow was different. This sorrow was pure rage. "At least it can't get any worse than this." I was wrong. I was so wrong.
In the next 5 years, I would have 6 more people that I was really close with pass away, some in freak accidents, some on purpose.
This rage that was rooted in deep hurt that I wouldn't understand until years later defined my life. I found myself constantly living with a torn identity; Trying to hold on the mask that helped everything to seem alright, and the pain being stronger than what I could handle.
A friend that I had met through sports began to see through this mask, and she knew that something had to be done. 8 years ago, she tricked me into going on a trip with her youth group. As soon as I figured out what was going on, it was too late.
Well, shoot.
So I went, and although I was so afraid of these people and what they believed, I felt..comfortable. In some strange, odd way. It was as if I were home. It made absolutely no sense. As time went on, I would eventually start to attend this youth group. I started going simply to tell the youth pastor how wrong he was about all of this. How he was wasting his life with this. How there's no way that God is real, and if He is, He is really terrible as I had 2 best friends die, and a cousin commit suicide by this point in time. All within about a year's time. The sponsors and the youth pastor of this youth group simply loved me. They met me right where I was at. The youth pastor allowed me to get up in front of the youth group, and tell the story of my cousin committing suicide. (This would be the first time I would ever speak in public.) The walls were slowly being taken down, piece by piece.
It was towards the end of my freshman year of high school that my youth pastor would ask me "Are you going to heaven?" Well, heck. I don't know. There isn't really an individual, dramatic moment in time where I asked Jesus into my heart. It was a long process. But the moment of that question, something stirred deep within me. This hurricane of rage within me was being settled. It made absolutely no sense. So my sophomore year, my youth pastor announced that he needed small group leaders. I had no idea what a small group was, but my friend that had initially tricked me told me I should sign up to lead. So I did. FOLKS, I SIGNED UP TO LEAD A SMALL GROUP. I HAD NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A SMALL GROUP. Through leading this group, I received a calling into ministry.
Wait, what.
No.
I was going to join the military, and the military was going to pay for my school to be a pharmacist.
No.
No.
NO.
So I told my youth pastor about this, and he began fostering and nurturing this calling. It was around this time that I would start going to Sunday morning church. Although I don't know this for a fact, I have a feeling that my youth pastor told people to seek me out, as the entire church embraced me and loved me so well. This village stepped in, and interceded on my behalf.
The story of the rest of high school is a long one with many seemingly dead ends that the Lord would miraculously make a way, and one of those ways has been a college education at MidAmerica Nazarene University.
MNU has embraced me and fostered this calling into ministry, even when I tried to push them away. MNU has challenged me to step into the presence of the Lord, and rest.
Through MNU, I was invited to an internship with Living Hope Church of the Nazarene. Little did I know, this church would soon become family, and I would be blessed with the best mentor of all time. This church would show me kindness and loyalty. This mentor would be the epitome of incarnate. She would step into my reality, and love me so well through everything, all the while, glorifying Christ.
This summer, I had the amazing opportunity to not only receive my first District License through Kansas City District, but also to watch my mentor, pastor, and best friend be Ordained as an Elder.
I also had the opportunity to hug my parents shortly after receiving my license.
I also had the opportunity to hug some of the key mentors from Fort Scott shortly after receiving my license.
This morning, I took some time to pray over this license, and the future ministry. I thanked the Lord for where I have found myself in the story of God thus far, and asked that my heart be prepared for where I find myself in the future.
I thanked the Lord that He found me where He did.
Many of you have asked what's next, as I am graduating in December. Nothing is set in stone. I have applied for graduate school. I have talked to some pastors. Truly, little to nothing is developed at this time.
So, all I can tell you, is that I'm finding myself to be sitting at the feet of the Lord, and am drinking of the Living Water. I am drinking from the cup in His hand, and eating of His goodness. I am dwelling in His presence, and am so grateful for who He is forming me into.
That's where I find myself in current day.
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