In October, 1987, I was standing on the sidewalk in a tough neighborhood near downtown Dallas. I was in my early 30s, a husband, a daddy, the pastor for one the largest churches of my denomination in the world...and a drug addict drowning in my addiction. How does something like that happen to somebody like me? That's a really long story that I'd be happy to share with you sometime. I had just come to a point that I knew my life was spinning deeply out of control and all my efforts and all my promises weren't fixing it.

It's an old question...but it hit me again that Fall..."who ministers to the ministers"? Most folks would call their pastor. I was the pastor. Who was I supposed to call? Several weeks earlier, I'd been having dinner with a friend. As we finished, I invited him to go with me wherever it was I was going next. He said, "no, thanks, I'll take a rain check...I'm on my way to a meeting of Narcotics Anonymous". I knew nothing about those people---but I knew they were helping my buddy with HIS problem. When I finally hit the bottom of my pit--with nowhere to turn--all I could remember were those two words: Narcotics Anonymous.

 

It was the middle of the morning. I picked up the phone, called directory assistance, and asked if they had a listing. I called the number I was given and the woman who answered asked how she could help me. I told her: "I think I may be in real trouble. Is it possible I'm a 'drug addict'? I don't know what to do!". She gave me the address of that scary block in the tough neighborhood where I was standing. She told me to be there at noon. Tell them what I had just told her. They had answers. They'd show me the solution.

I had knocked on every door on that block looking for the address she'd given me...body shops, abandoned buildings, crumbling warehouses, an old auto repair that was closed for lunch. I finally stood there and watched to see if there was some place I had missed. A few minutes before noon the most eclectic grab-bag of humanity you could imagine began to make their way down a dirt alley between two of those old buildings. There were street people who looked like they had slept in the dirt. They were very expensively dressed, immaculately groomed, downtown yuppies from the nearby office towers. Black people, white people, brown people, rich people, poor people...people you couldn't imagine spending the lunch hour together under any normal circumstances.

 

Finally, at straight up noon, a huge biker roared up on his Harley. I had never seen that many tattoos, that many chains, or that much leather on one human being in my entire life! He turned and roared down that same alley. I said to myself: "John, you're probably going to die here...but that alley is the last place you haven't looked! Don't leave here without finding those people who can help you". I walked down that alley to a rolled up warehouse garage door. I peeked inside and all those people were sitting in a circle, visiting, hugging, laughing, drinking coffee. I asked if this was the address I was looking for. They said: "Come on in. Welcome home!" Somebody got me a folding chair and pulled it into the circle. Somebody else went and got me a cup of coffee. A few minutes later they all prayed together and somebody read 12 spiritual principles that they said were saving their lives. The rest of that hour I watched those people open up the deepest hurts you can imagine, share them with each other, love each other, encourage each other.

 

What I saw unfold in that next hour changed the rest of my life. I've said many times since that day that I went through two Christian universities and a seminary--and that I saw "church" unfold around me that day for the first time in my life. In the months that followed, the "disconnect" between the places where I would go to "do church"...and the powerful, loving, accepting, healing, forgiving, unshockable, grace-dispensing, fellowship of that circle and thousands like it around the world...was desperately frustrating to me.

A few weeks later, I sat on our couch late one night and told my wife: "If God will just continue to pull me out of this hole I'm in--someday I want to be part of a movement where all of that is in the same place. I want to bring the sweet healthy parts of Christ's church, and the grace, acceptance, healing, and power of those fellowships that are saving my life...and weave them together in the same place. I think I would call it 'Serenity Church' so people like me would know it's for us." 

 

It was a long journey from that night on our couch, and nearly 20 years later, that God gave birth to that very thing. I thank Him constantly that He lets me be part of it. On Saturday night, June 3, 2006, He gave birth to Serenity Church. It's everything I dreamed it would be in those early weeks of my healing and sobriety. Every week He brings fresh "broken folks" like us to a fellowship where Christ is the Higher Power and those 12 spiritual principles that saved my life are preached and practiced. It's truly "church in the trenches". We have a front row seat to watch people stop dying and start living week after week.

 

We're a very exclusive fellowship...strictly reserved only for people who are broken...people who have things that hurt them that are out of their control. I've been looking hard for over 20 years for somebody who DOESN'T qualify. I haven't met one yet!

 

If You "qualify"..."welcome home"! Serenity Church is the family you've been looking for. There's a place in our family for you. Drop me a line. Let's visit. I've got stories to tell. I'd love to hear yours.

 

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Pastor John’s Story

John Featherston

 

Pastor of Serenity Church

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