Searching for Identity

Good morning, church! My name is Wesley Ffolkes, and I'm going to share my story of Grace with you today.

I grew up an only child and an 80's kid right here in Plano, TX. Plano was only supposed to be a shortstop for my family on the way to either Southern California or Saudi Arabia as my Dad was pursuing his engineering career. Still, at my mom's behest, we stayed in Texas.

My mom was a baby Christian not connected to any community. My Dad was an atheist, focused on putting food on the table. He traveled for work a lot, with pressure to perform, he leaned heavily on drinking and isolation to relax. So I can say that my story centers around my search for identity; perhaps you can relate.

There were two formative moments of my childhood that I can say pretty much defined life up to college:

My first was experience was when I was about six years old at my Dad's company picnic- As I was playing with a group of children, I was told by an adult that her children don't play with the "N-word." I didn't know what that word meant, so I asked my mom. That was the last time we ever went to a company picnic. First time I experienced racism. It was the first time I realized that I was different than other kids.

The second was the Domestic Abuse I experienced as a kid- I was neither safe nor welcomed in my home. My parents used to fight a lot, and the arguing turned into hitting. Until one day, things got completely out of control, and my mom was fed up. We left home when I was in 3rd grade as my parents separated. Only to move back in when I was in 5th grade.

In high school, I hated my home life. At the time, the summation of my life, I just wanted to move forward and get to college and never come back to Plano, TX. I felt like if anyone knew how things were at home, they wouldn't want anything to do with me so. I threw myself at grades and sports and just kept my head down.

So I went off to college. I wanted to find a group of people that were like me, but all I found was the wrong crowd really quick. I was told that I was not black enough and needed to get with the program. I traded late nights studying with partying, girls, and more trouble. I was staring at a whopping 1.8 GPA. One late night during a get-together with friends, I was propositioned to sell drugs. I was done. I hurriedly packed up my things in the middle of the night, and I was gone. I hated my life; I had just nuked my freshman year. I was terrified to tell my parents, and I felt like I had no purpose and desperately wanted to figure my life out.

Fast forward a few months later, I was at attending junior college, trying to get back on my feet. I was placed on a very short leash. I met a classmate who had recently accepted Christ and eagerly told me about his experience. He said strange things that were both wonderful and sometimes hard to hear. I had never met anyone, even more so a young person who was this passionate about spirituality, Jesus, and the life to come. It kind of scared me; I wasn't comfortable talking about this spiritual stuff, mostly because I had to think about all of the painful parts of my life. After about a month of pestering, I finally went to church with him. I almost bailed at the last minute, but to my shock, I actually gave my life to Jesus that night, March of 2000, at Prestonwood Baptist Church.

Since that moment, my life has been radically different. I'm no longer trapped in my past hurt, habits, and hang-ups. It hasn't all been easy. I had to go through many ugly seasons, counseling, confessions in small groups to pornography, sleeping around, and alcohol use to fit in. I had many, many setbacks, but I never felt shamed by the community of men around me who reminded me of the truth of Galatians 2:20,

“I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.”

Today, I have a new hope, a new life, and a new identity and victory Christ. I eventually reached back out to my Dad, and over the past 20 years, I have forgiven him and worked to rebuild the relationship that alcohol and stress took away. I have shared the Gospel with him a great many times, and he has even come to CityBridge on occasion. He has accepted the invitation to follow Christ, but I hope that one day he will.

There are a few things I can share with you that I have learned from this journey:

I no longer have a formulated mental image of myself based on feelings of acceptance from my parents or other people. I'm no longer defined by the expectations of this broken world that says silly things like, we fight racism and hate with yet more racism and hate.

I can look at my past and truly say that Romans 8:28 is true,