Hi, my name is Clay. I grew up in upstate New York, in a home where the love of Jesus Christ was both taught to me and demonstrated to me by my parents from a young age. When I was 4 years old, after coming home from an event called “The Living Nativity,” a walk through Nativity story of the life of Jesus, I asked my father how I can be in heaven with Jesus when I die. He explained to me that it was as simple as “ABC”. A ) admit that I am a sinner; B) believe that Jesus died and rose again to save me from my sins; and C), call on Jesus to save me. That night I made the decision to put my trust In Jesus alone for eternal life, and by the next morning I was already trying to tell my two year old sister how she needs to believe in Jesus. (To which she replied, “No Clay, I don’t want to go to heaven.” Thankfully she no longer holds that stance.)

Although I was a believer, I struggled for a long time with actually giving control of my life over to Christ. Growing up, I wanted to follow God’s plan, but I wanted his plan to conform to my own. At the same time I battled serious anxiety for years, because I was not trusting in God’s plan for my life. My life revolved around a desire for knowledge and intelligence, because I wanted some sense of control. I also placed a lot of my identity in my friendships and my community.

When my parents told me we were moving from Lockport, NY, to Silver Spring, MD, in January of 2018, I thought my life was over. All of the things I valued, my friends, my home, my sense of control, they were all being ripped away from me. Then ensued a time in my life that lasted from that January, and continued for over a year, until the following August, where almost all the time, I was angry, lost, and confused. I felt betrayed, by my parents, by God, and I would retaliate by making a series of very bad decisions and causing many problems. I was driven by anger and the desire for my life to stay the same as it had been before that January.

However, as you might expect, anger did not lead to happiness, and it most certainly did not change what happened, or keep me in Western New York. All it did was cause unnecessary pain. Besides losing my community, over the years, the other things I had put my identity in failed me. I was burned by some friendships, while others came and went, and I learned that knowledge of God without relationship with God is meaningless. Moving only made my anxiety worse, although I was saved, I was so lost, similar to the prodigal son: Although I always had a home with my father, for a long time I did not remember that.

In the summer of 2019, I traveled back to New York, where I grew up, to join the staff at the summer camp I had grown up going to. It was bittersweet, I was still struggling with a lot of anger and anxiety, and finding it hard to forgive my parents and God for moving me to Maryland. Additionally, my parents had made it very clear that this would be my last time ever going to this camp, and that I should make the most of my last summer there. For the first week of the month that I was there, I trained with 21 other prospective staff members, including my childhood best friend, to join the staff team of guys at the camp. This was the beginning of me finally beginning to surrender control of my life to Jesus, as he slowly transformed my life. The bond I formed with the staff that month was very strong, and a few older guys took me under their wing and mentored me. Even with all of that influence, I can still point to one specific conversation as the moment I let go of my anger and unforgiveness.

The summer before I joined staff, 1 month prior to leaving for Maryland, I had had a conversation with a man whose stories had been a big influence on my life. He had been around camp much longer then I’d been alive, and was a camp shepherd, meaning it was his job to disciple staff and campers. He was one of the few people I had expressed much of the extent of my pain and anger to during that time period. He listened to my story, spoke encouragement over me, and prayed for me. The next year, when I joined staff, I had another conversation with him. He remembered me, he remembered my story, he told me he had been praying for me. I couldn’t believe that he remembered one camper out of hundreds, and even remembered our conversation. I was taken aback by the way he cared for me with no reason to, he wasn’t one of my parents, he didn’t even go to my church, he was just a man who loved me for no reason. We talked for hours, and the difference this time compared to conversations with other people, was that my heart was finally ready to be done with the anger. 

I was done fighting, ever since then Jesus has continued to work in my heart and lifer and I have seen him do incredible things. When I got home that summer my parents took note of the change in me, and told me because of it, that they would let me return to camp in future years if I would like. I still struggle with some old tendencies, such as anxiety, from time to time. But everyday I fall more in love with Jesus and am always striving to learn more about him and be more like him. I have learned to trust God when circumstances are questionable, which means I have no reason to be anxious. Rather than constantly asking, “What if?” I now ask myself, “What’s true?” I still heavily value friendships, knowledge, and community, but my identity is now secure in Christ. I was named after the bible verse Isaiah 64:8. “Yet you oh LORD are our father, we are the clay, you are the potter, we are all the work of your hand.” I want to continue to be molded by my amazing potter into the man he desires me to be. I am the work of his hand, and I would not have it any other way.