Back in 2009, I joined a punk rock church in San Antonio, Texas. Unlike today, I was wide open. I talked to everyone and I even spoke many times in front of the church. That is because I became, over time, friends with the pastor, Skip Brooks. Skip was a true punk rocker. He had a green mohawk and tattoos from head to toe. He was a walking comic book. I loved him. I sat up front for every service. I preached on the street with other members of the church. I wasn't afraid, and if I was, I overcame it. I would go over to Skip's house all of the time. I would bring my guitar and we would jam. We talked about everything under the sun. I was becoming the man God created me to be. Unfortunately, I got wrapped up in the Salvation Army (which was a big mistake) and slowly I quit attending Rise Above services I hung out with Skip less and less, and by 2012 I was full-blown in the Salvation Army ministry. Skip died of cancer just a few years later. I felt so much guilt and shame for a long time. I made a vow that I would find God's will for me again and I would stick with it.
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