Gaither Kaufman & Schoepf

Growing up in Baptist churches, my idea of confession was formed watching people walk up the aisle at the end of a service while we sang all the verses of “I Surrender All” or “Just As I Am,” and whisper with a pastor about a sin, praying together, and then going back to the pew - forgiven - with “every head bowed and every eye closed” of course. Not a terrible model honestly, but one that I misunderstood. I thought sin was getting caught doing something bad, and confession was admitting it - formalizing it. Like getting a ticket for speeding and paying the fine. 

Most of my life, I have thought of sin on a spectrum - like with speeding, if I don't get caught and no one gets hurt, no big deal. Lately, I have begun to see it very differently. As I have had encounter after encounter with Jesus - much of that due to this project we're working on - and begun to really spend time alone with Him meditating and praying and just being, I've come to feel His presence with me constantly. More and more, Jesus is real to me - as real as the friends I talk to on the phone every day. I see Him working in my life, in my family, and in the lives of my friends and people I meet. I rely on Him and I want to stay close to Him.

What does that have to do with confession? Everything. Let me explain …

In the recent film “Nefarious,” a psychiatrist is evaluating a death row inmate who has been possessed by a demon called Legion. Legion describes the fall of Lucifer and the battle between the kingdoms of good and evil to the psychiatrist. And then he explains the role the human race plays in this battle, and these words of his have haunted me since the first time I watched the scene:

“Instead of forgiving us (the demons), the enemy (God) was going to allow you (Man) to fill our vacant places in his realm. Your creation was nothing but a slap in our face. And my master (Lucifer) also understood that if he could make Man disobey, then his fate would mirror ours. And you didn't disappoint. Then came the tares among the wheat. (Matthew 13v25) In that moment, spirit became matter, flesh became a vessel, self-will and self-seeking began lusting after sin and impurity, and Man - created to be king over nature - became its slave … the master, conquered and fettered. And sin brought him and his descendants to us, and we began our forever mission to destroy you. He made you in his image, but we remade you in ours …. Our plan is to hurt him, to punish him. And we do that by destroying what he loves, which is you. You're nothing but a means to an end.”

Have you ever thought of sin in this paradigm? I sure hadn't. The idea that the great deceiver - the father of lies - and all of his minions, are simply using sin to cause pain and destruction in our lives with the express purpose of inflicting pain on The Father? Pretty intense. 

This morning, I woke up wrestling with a few sins of my own - wrongs I had done to others and to myself in recent months. As I drove my kids to school, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit and I heard His voice asking me if I really wanted to keep on choosing things that make me feel good for a moment at the cost of inflicting pain on my Savior's heart - the One who rescued me from addiction, healed my family, loves me unconditionally, and called me to follow Him. The one who is my closest friend. I wiped my tears, dropped my girls off at school, and then texted my spiritual director in confession through another flood of tears. When I got home, I made some phone calls of confession and forgiveness-seeking, and then had a long talk with my Friend. 

It is so powerful for me to understand that I can't ever sin in a vacuum - that no matter how insignificant or innocuous it may seem, when I choose self-will and self-seeking, I'm a willing participant in Satan's plot to inflict pain on my savior - the Author of Love and the Giver of Life. Until recently, I have preferred to sweep my missteps under the rug and try to fix things myself without getting The Big Guy involved. This gift of understanding the real magnitude of what sin does and what confession does, in turn, is a game changer for me.

If you're wrestling with something, I hope my candor here might inspire you to seek the sweet reconciliation and connection waiting for you in confession, and if this is something you're already practicing in your life, amen and keep going!

Josh and I had the great pleasure of taking over the Sunday morning service at East Side Church of God in Anderson, IN a little over a week ago. We went to college together at Anderson University a few minutes down the road and East Side was my home church in those days. In fact, Kerry Robinson - my old pastor, is still at the helm!

Growing up in rural Iowa, I was not accustomed to big churches with screens for lyrics and worship bands with drums and guitar amps and hammond organs, so I was pretty blown away when I had the opportunity to join the worship team. I was NOT a great keyboard player or singer, certainly not any good at blending with a band and probably way too eager and prone to rushing tempos. It should have been wildly intimidating. The whole worship band were pro musicians - touring guys, studio musicians from Gaither Studios and a handful of good studios in Indianapolis, and of course Bill & Gloria and numerous other well known and ultra talented artists and musicians frequented the pews. 

The thing is, all of these people had something in common … they were part of a culture of mentorship and discipleship. They understood that helping young Christians develop their talents and their hearts would have impact far into the future. Jay Rouse was 100 times better musician than I was - he didn't need me on keyboards, but he must have seen something in me. That opportunity not only taught me so much about understanding music as a channel for the Holy Spirit versus just a performance, it gave me the confidence to press forward and develop my skills. My friend Benjy inviting me to work at his animation company even though I knew nothing about animating or writing soundtracks taught me endless lessons about executing on a vision, bootstrapping something you believe in, and again - gave me confidence to create fearlessly. The afternoons out at Gaithers' place playing flag football and eating soup in Gloria's cozy kitchen taught me so much about what being successful with grace and humility looks like, and the art of blending spiritual mentorship with hospitality. My college jobs working in the studio and the auditorium for guys like Micah Dean and Dave Flenoury and Mike Houlihan who had been REAL roadies, taught me that a production team is as critical to a great record or concert as the musicians, and again - they gave me the confidence to ask questions and learn technical things and grow my skill set. Benjy's sister, Suzanne, helped me learn how to co-write songs. She could write circles around me and could write with anyone she wanted to, but she offered me lyrics to work with and never shot me down when I brought her a new melody. Even Josh, who was (and is) a few years older than me and a far more accomplished musician took time to sit cross legged on the floor of our apartment and show me how to listen to a song and figure out the CORRECT instrument parts and write a chart.

Later when I moved to Nashville, my music business professor - Becky Chappell, took the time to set up meetings for me with her contacts there, resulting in my first publishing deal. And when I got down there, countless other studio engineers, producers, musicians, songwriters, and publishers gave me opportunities to work and hang out and learn. In the safety of my college and church world up in Anderson, I had learned that when I show up with an open heart, ready to work hard and learn (which usually happened by being willing to make mistakes in the presence of people more accomplished than me), people older and wiser than me would respond and help me grow. 

When I walked through the doors of East Side Church for the first time in twenty-something years and got a big bear hug from Kerry, gratitude washed over me. I started to think about just how many incredible people poured themselves into me, gave me opportunities to stretch into roles I was woefully under-qualified for, and quietly exercised their spiritual gifts to help me discover my own. I suddenly felt the magnitude of the legacy they passed on to me and all my nerdy college cohorts - the aura of the talent and creative ability of all of these folks that we had been so blessed to witness and absorb. I started to think about how many hundreds of other college kids had come through those same ranks and gone out into the world to minister with the gifts these same folks had helped them develop. The word “legacy” just settled in my heart and stayed with me while I drove back to Iowa, reengaged with my own local community, led worship at my own church here the next week, and loved on my daughters at home. I have reconnected with lots of my mentors over the years, but there was something really special about my days in Anderson, Indiana. Those folks weren't just teaching a younger musician how to get better at music, they were reflecting Jesus to me … teaching me how to be an apprentice … showing me what living in spiritual abundance looks like. When we really follow Jesus and depend on Him for everything, we always have enough … enough time to show a new kid the ropes, enough talent to let the newbie join the band, enough humility to set the career hat to the side and put on the teacher's cap, enough of God's love to love a misguided kid right where he is long enough for him to discover God's unfailing love for himself. 

It's not lost on me that my name comes from Timothy in the Bible - Paul's apprentice. What strikes me is that Timothy's grandmother, Lois, his mother, Eunice (also my great aunt's name), his mentor, Paul, and his hometown supporters - the Christians of Lystra and Iconium, all poured their passion for Jesus into him. He was a clash of cultures, being half Greek and half Jewish - not unlike the kid from rural Iowa working in the music business in the Big Apple, but those folks saw the strength in his ability to relate to those he ministered to precisely because he could relate to both Jewish and Gentile cultures. Paul trusted Timothy, giving him responsibilities that were a stretch for someone still very young in his discipleship of Jesus. He told Timothy “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” - he was giving him confidence. He taught Timothy the scripture and reminded him “Hold fast the pattern of sound words which you have heard from me, in faith and love which are in Christ Jesus.” He instructed him to mentor others with the legacy he had inherited - “And the things that you have heard from me among many witnesses, commit these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.” 

My name was also my dad's - Tim Sr., Big Tim, Pastor Tim. Even my name is a legacy handed down to me. The gratitude that washed over me when I embraced Kerry at East Side Church - the awareness of the legacy poured into me, it has stayed with me. I am so grateful for God's hand on my life, and for the people who took the time to be Paul to me, to reflect Jesus to me. And now I have the great honor of exploring the legacy of the Jesus Movement, honoring those artists, and amplifying their message of hope and passion for Jesus to another generation. 
 

– The church where I learned how to play in a band & the apartment where Josh attempted to teach me Lenny Kravitz and Sheryl Crow –