Part 1

Craig asked me to write about my vision for the R:12 Project, the ministry he and I have been called to. But before I can get into what we’ve been called to do, you need to understand who I am, and where I stand.

If you had asked me one year ago if I thought I’d claim to be a Christian, that I’d be setting aside the opportunity to make money in order to become a missionary, or that I’d be so sold out for God that I would willingly open a Bible and read, because I wanted to… I would have laughed you straight out of the room. Which is exactly what I did to my now ministry partner for the first three weeks of our friendship.

In fact, almost exactly two years ago, I was almost exactly the opposite of who I am today. It was about mid August when I reported for the US Army Honor Guard Course, in Asheville, NC. It was there that I met a young looking Private First Class by the name of Craig Clark. Now, anyone that knows Craig knows two things. First, that he is probably the goofiest country boy I have ever met in my life. And secondly, that he does not shut up about Jesus Christ. That man will talk about the love God has for each one of us until he passes out from lack of oxygen. Which is exactly why I would make him stay twenty feet away from me at all times while we served together on the Honor Guard. Needless to say, this did little to affect his desire to tell me that Jesus loved me and died for my sins.

I distinctly recall saying to Craig several times “God and I have an understanding…He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him. We just let each other be.”

What I was really saying was “I don’t want to be obligated by your religion’s legalistic attitude and moral standards”

What I now realize is that the God that Craig was talking about is far from the God I had in mind.

My name is James Vance, and almost two years later I have officially been wrecked for Jesus Christ. It only took 23 years of rebellion, two years of harassment by Craig, a combat tour in Iraq, and a thousand other shortcomings and missteps to find what my heart has yearned for since I came into this world.

Let me be clear. I love Jesus. I love him more than I will ever love my friends, or my family, or my future wife, or you. And I love all of those people a LOT.

I grew up in a home defined by violence and anger, which was thinly veiled by a modicum of social decorum. Basically, my parents were good at hiding our family issues. Now, don’t get all huffy here, I love my parents both very dearly. We enjoy strong relationships now. But back then the fact of the matter was, they were angry people, and they took that anger out on each other, frequently.

As I grew up, I became angry. I was abusive to my younger sister, even though all I wanted to do was protect her from my parents. I was angry at people who had more than me, who were better socially adjusted, whose parents loved them more, or so I thought. I was pretty much angry at everyone and everything. But above all of those people, I was angry at God. I hated him for my situation, and I hated the people who attended my church for not noticing that something was drastically wrong. I became withdrawn and self-reliant. I decided that if God wouldn’t change my circumstances then to hell with him, I’d do it myself.

So at 18 years old, I joined the Army, a place where I could use my anger, my self-reliance, and my violent attitude openly and be praised for it. It was the perfect place for me, or so I thought. I soon found myself leading a lifestyle that looked like an outtake from “Animal House”. Partying until 5 or 6 A.M. each night, getting wasted on alcohol, fooling around with girls I barely knew, driving drunk, getting into fights, blowing money I didn’t have and lying, cheating, or stealing to make up for it. The list goes on, believe me. To some, I actually had a pretty sweet life, I was at all the cool parties, I was hooking up with attractive women; and on the outside, it looked like I had money to burn.

But there is no disguising the feeling you get when the cold light of the morning filters through the window and you survey the aftermath that was my life. It’s a filthy, disgusting feeling that settles deep in your stomach like bad chinese food. If you’ve ever lived the party lifestyle you know exactly what I’m talking about. And if you say you have no idea, that you love everything like that, you’re a liar.

It’s the hard reality that creeps into your mind when your so called friends have dragged themselves home and you’re left alone. The realization that there has got to be something more to life…

I have good news, there is.


…To be continued, in Part 2 I discuss how my life was radically changed by an awesome God.