When my wife and I left Chicago, I told everyone it was for work. It was simple, practical, and true — at least on the surface. But once we settled into Hoboken and joined a dinner group, I realized something deeper was happening. Something I didn’t even know I needed.

I was rediscovering community.

Growing up, community was built into my life. Big family. Same neighborhood. Same familiar rhythms. I never had to search for it or build it. It was just there. But in a new city, surrounded by new faces, I felt the absence of it in a way I hadn’t expected. And I realized how much I needed people — real people — walking with me.

By the time we arrived in Hoboken, my faith felt thin. I had been baptized at 24 and jumped into serving with everything I had. But over time, life took its toll. A church split. Losing both of my parents. Struggles in my career and marriage. My relationship with Jesus felt unsteady.

My wife continued serving faithfully, but I felt lost. I was wrestling with addictions, spiritually drained, and unsure where I fit. I knew the truth of what Jesus had done for me, but I still felt broken.

The move gave us a reset — one I didn’t see coming. It drew my wife and me closer, and it slowly pulled me back toward Jesus.

One night in dinner group, we used story cards. I picked one with a cracked flower pot that was still being used. I stared at it longer than I expected. It felt like a picture of my life — cracked, imperfect, but somehow still held together. Still useful in God’s hands.

It was the first time in a long time I felt seen.

Every Sunday, I kept hearing the same message:

It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’ve been, or what you’ve done — God is pursuing you.

People encouraged me to attend Team Link. So I did. I visited every team. I listened. I observed. And still, I felt no clear direction. I didn’t feel talented enough or qualified enough to serve anywhere.

One night in dinner group, someone mentioned that everyone in the group was serving. I had to admit — quietly — that I wasn’t.

“I thought you went to Team Link,” he said.

“I did,” I replied. “I just didn’t pick a team.”

Another year passed. Another Team Link. Still no clarity.

Eventually, after exploring every team and feeling like I had nothing to offer, I chose First Impressions. My thought was simple: If nothing else, I can open a door.

It took me two years to choose a team. Now, more than six years later, I’m still on First Impressions. And I wouldn’t trade it.

I’ve had the privilege of opening doors, yes — but also encouraging people into worship, helping them join teams, connecting them to dinner groups, celebrating baptisms, and watching people I invited to serve grow into leaders and even staff.

I’ve seen so much fruit. And I know there’s even more I’ll never see this side of heaven.

Serving didn’t just give me a role. It gave me a place to belong. It reminded me that God uses cracked vessels — not despite the cracks, but often through them.

I’m humbled that God would use someone with my story, my flaws, and my failures to help others find their way back to Him.

My hope is simple:

That every person who walks through our doors feels welcomed, expected, and loved.

If you feel broken, you are not alone. If you’re reading this and you feel cracked, unsure, or like you don’t have much to offer, I want you to know this:

God can use you — right where you are.

First Impressions was the place where God rebuilt me piece by piece. It was where I learned that showing up matters, even when you don’t feel qualified.

So if you’re wondering where to start, or if you’re afraid you don’t have anything to give, I’d encourage you to try First Impressions. Come stand with us. Come open a door. Come help create the kind of welcome that might change someone’s life.

It changed mine.