If you had asked me a few years ago what my path to ministry would look like, I doubt I would have described anything close to this.

After surviving seven pulmonary embolisms and six heart attacks, I was left with a lot of questions. Questions about my health. Questions about my future. Most importantly, questions about why I was still here.

Since then, I’ve faced bankruptcy, the loss of my home, and periods of homelessness. Today, I live out of a Dodge Grand Caravan with my big, goofy German Shepherd, Loki, while trying to rebuild my life one day at a time.

In the middle of all of that, I found myself searching for something deeper than stability. Deeper than financial security. Deeper than certainty.

I was searching for direction.

Over the course of my life, I’ve tried many things. Some were successes. Some were failures. But none of them left me feeling whole. None of them left me feeling like I was living up to the purpose I was created for.

During some of the darkest moments of homelessness, I finally did the one thing I had never truly tried before.

I turned to God.

Not in a “Lord, fix my problems” kind of way.

I mean genuine surrender.

As much as someone like me was capable of giving, I surrendered.

I began praying every day. I started reading my Bible whenever I could. Sometimes that meant sitting in my van. Sometimes it meant reading a few verses between DoorDash deliveries. Sometimes it meant listening to sermons and Christian podcasts while driving.

And slowly, something began to change.

My circumstances didn’t improve overnight.

My perspective did.

I started noticing God’s grace everywhere.

Some days it showed up as a solid stack of DoorDash orders that allowed me to save a little money toward housing. Other days it was simply having enough income to buy a warm meal.

There were moments when Loki would suddenly decide he needed to go outside immediately, and somehow a park, trailhead, or safe place to stop would appear around the next bend in the road.

And then there is the reality that, medically speaking, I probably should not be here at all.

More than once, doctors told me it was remarkable that I survived. One of my heart attacks involved a 99% blockage, yet I somehow made it through a twenty-five-minute drive to the emergency room and received treatment in time.

Looking back at everything together, I find it difficult to believe I have been walking this road alone.

Today, I am still homeless.

I am still struggling.

I still spend my days delivering food and my nights finding safe places for Loki and me to sleep.

But something has changed.

For the first time in a very long time, I know where I’m headed.

I have decided to pursue seminary education and, Lord willing, eventually become a pastor.

Even writing those words feels strange.

If you looked at my current circumstances, seminary probably wouldn’t seem like the logical next step. Most people would probably tell me to focus exclusively on housing, finances, and stability first.

To be fair, they’re not wrong.

Housing is still my most immediate concern. I need a place that will accept both me and a large German Shepherd. A place that fits my budget. A place where I can continue earning a living through DoorDash.

That’s why I’m not rushing into school immediately.

My goal is to get housed and stable first.

Not because I couldn’t study while homeless, but because I want to give seminary everything I have. This isn’t something I plan to do halfway. I’m not interested in simply passing classes or earning “good enough” grades.

If God is calling me into ministry, then I want to prepare for it with excellence.

As I’ve been exploring different programs, I’ve spent time looking at both Baylor University’s Truett Seminary and Nations University. While Baylor originally caught my attention, Nations University may be a better fit for my current season of life because of its affordability and flexible structure.

For someone rebuilding from the ground up, those things matter.

Of course, deciding to move toward God doesn’t mean the road suddenly becomes easier.

In many ways, it feels like the obstacles have increased.

A broken finger while repairing brakes.

Housing listings that advertise themselves as dog-friendly until you discover they only allow dogs the size of a guinea pig.

Depression.

Storms.

Setbacks.

Unexpected expenses.

The list goes on.

But even through those challenges, God continues to provide ways to stay grounded.

During long days on the road, I listen to Christian podcasts and testimonies. At night, before going to sleep, Loki and I often watch an episode of The Chosen.

It’s not a perfect life.

It’s not an easy life.

But it is a life with purpose.

When I look back at the road that brought me here, I wouldn’t have chosen most of it.

I wouldn’t have chosen the heart attacks.

I wouldn’t have chosen the pulmonary embolisms.

I wouldn’t have chosen homelessness.

But I also wonder if I would have discovered this calling without them.

Sometimes God leads us to our destination by roads we would never choose for ourselves.

For me, that road has been rough.

But for the first time, I believe I know where it leads.