I always get pensive on my birthday. I suppose that's normal since this day marks the number of years I've been alive. In English, we say "happy birthday," commemorating the day we were born. In Spanish, we say, "feliz cumpleaños." The first part of the word "cumple" is from the Spanish verb "complir," which means to accomplish. I like the meanings in both languages. The English celebrates the day we were born into this world, and the Spanish notes the years we've completed. Between these two events lies the story of our life.

I asked Kelly to take some photos of me to mark this day. I wanted her to do this because I needed to see for myself that I am doing well. Recently, I was going through photos on my phone and came across this selfie I took when I was living in Guadalajara, Mexico, immediately after my divorce in 2016.

It hurts me to look at this photo. I am somewhat embarrassed to share it, not so much because of how terrible I look, but because I remember the pain I was in when I took it. This is a photo of a man who lost everything he held dear. It was like I was being swept away in a river of pain that I could not stop.

But that's not what I want to talk about. The theme of this past year has been one of remembering who I am. It may sound odd to some, but I forgot "me." God truly is a refining fire, and He faithfully burns away everything that is not me and of Him.

I have seen many blessings in this past year. I embarked on a life journey with a new partner who is beautiful, thoughtful, honest, and kind. She's a fighter, which, at times, can be challenging for me. I mean this in the best sense of the word. She fights for authenticity in our marriage, for truth, for love, for honesty. I once asked God at the beginning of our relationship if she was a blessing or a curse, and He said to me, "that's up to you." And so, that prophecy plays out right before my eyes. I am truly blessed to be married to her, and when we hit bumps in the road, I am reminded of God's word to me.

For the first time in 6 years, I unpacked my books. Only bibliophiles can relate. My books are my friends. They tell the story of my life and ministry. It's not an extensive library, but it is quite beautiful. I've read most of them, while some are waiting to make my acquaintance.

I have new friends in my library too. Especially dear to me are my books by Cornelius Van Til and Greg Bahnsen. Though Greg died in 1995, his keen mind and solid theology have mentored me throughout this past year. I've never met a more beautiful, more Biblical, and more orderly mind outside of the Bible. Cornelius can be a bit esoteric, but I love him all the same since he was Greg's mentor.

God is using these men to remind me who I am. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a passionate man. That may surprise those who don't really know me. This passion once came out on the football field. I like it when former teammates talk about me as a football player. And so I was.

I am passionate about my family. I love my children dearly, and my heart delights in my grandsons. I have the pleasure of spending time with one of my grandsons, though the other I don't get to see too often. But I leave that situation in God's hands. My mom and dad are one of the greatest blessings of my life. I see where I get my passion. I love seeing glimpses of both my mom and my dad in me.

I live in a grand old mansion now in West Hartford, Connecticut. The man who owns this house is a kind old retired doctor, Kelly's grandfather. He and I have developed a friendship and, I think, an understanding of one another. I was homeless a few years ago, and he let me stay in a guest room until I got back on my feet. Now that I am standing, he agreed to rent me this same room to use as my study. Of all the things that have helped me remember who I am, it's renting this little office. Kelly and I live in a one-room studio. It is lovely, but we sometimes are tripping over one another, so this study is a gift from God.

When I was going through the trauma that was my life, I sold most of my musical instruments. I figured my musical life was over. I thank God it isn't. I bought Kelly a piano. She wanted it in the kitchen, and since she believes she cannot live by bread alone, she moved the kitchen table out and replaced it with her piano. Now our apartment is filled with her glorious singing accompanied by the piano.

Me? I bought a new banjo. It is lovely! The beauty of my study is that I can practice and play, and nobody can hear it. My fellow musicians know how tedious it is to practice. I found old videos of my lessons with world-famous banjoist Bill Keith and I'm going through Earl Scruggs's book again. I couple my bluegrass with clawhammer as well. There is a reason that people make jokes about banjo players. But one thing Bill Keith showed me was the beauty of this five-stringed instrument. He indeed was the Mozart of Banjo.

When I was a boy, our family spent lots of time on West Hill Pond. That's what we called it growing up. God blessed me with a Pontoon Boat this summer. We spent many a day basking in the luxury of the sun and swimming in the crisp cool water of the Pond. I also spend many nights sleeping on the boat. I anchor the boat near the Island while being rocked to sleep by gentle waves.

The last way God has reminded me of who I am is by hearing His calling once again. I thought I was disqualified from ministry because I screwed up too much. But God reminded me this past year that He truly confounds the wise by calling the foolish. He used murders and adulterers and liars and prostitutes and even Pharisees to accomplish His will. So, being the 100th sheep hasn't disqualified me one bit.

In fact, it is this remembering that makes me a better pastor. I am a pastor in waiting. He called me when I was a boy, and that call hasn't left me. Whether He uses me in a church or just through writing or not at all, it is up to Him. My job is to be faithful to the word that He has given me. He told me to listen to His voice and no one else, and so I do.

I thank all my well-wishers on this my 58th birthday. The most excellent present you can give me is to remember me in your prayers.