floor propped against the sofa. Though I had looked through a few of our National Geographic magazines before, not until this moment had anything really hit me.

Like most eighth graders, my perspective on the world was pretty much limited to the town where I had grown up, my neighborhood and my friends. But there in my south Arkansas home, thumbing through the latest issue of the Geographic, I suddenly encountered another way of living. For just a little while I actually experienced the life of the Amish. I walked the roads, visited the schools, worked in the fields and played the games that they played. I heard the sounds of their surroundings. I smelled their meals cooking. I became a part of an Amish community in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. I was taken on this trip by William Albert Allard.
A couple of years later, again turning the pages of the same magazine, I came across another story that grabbed my attention. This time I was taken to the Basque region of Western Europe. Image by image I was captivated by these people. I could almost feel what it was like to be Basque. Again, the story had been photographed by William Allard.

Allard’s way of seeing and the way he was able to communicate through his photographs gripped me. I was only in the tenth grade, but I wanted to tell stories the way he did.

Thousands of photographs and 10 years later, I was a working photographer, but frustrated. The images felt empty.

I talked with my wife, friends and family, then finally my pastor. I can still see him slowly spin his chair around to face a bookshelf just behind him. His hand reached out and grabbed the corner of a magazine that would change my life. On its pages were photographs taken by Don Rutledge, then a photographer at the Southern Baptist Home Mission Board.

Rutledge was using photographs to tell stories too. Through his eyes and images he did more than document. He moved me through the things I had in common with people everywhere. I saw joy, sadness, victory and loss. The challenge and adventure of life was alive on every page.

Again, I wanted to tell stories like the ones I found on those pages.

From that day to this, photography has provided a way for me to tell the stories of people in relationship with one another and show the impact on lives when God becomes a part of the frame.

For almost 14 years I had the privilege of working for LifeWay Christian Resources in Nashville, the publishing arm of the Southern Baptist Convention. My position as photojournalist was within the communications department, and also a bureau of Baptist Press. Through this opportunity, I was able to do what I’d dreamed of as a tenth grader and prayed for as a young adult. I told stories.

About two years ago God began showing my family and me yet another world. This time it wasn’t in Pennsylvania or Europe, but only a couple of hours west in a town called Jackson. After several months of conversations and prayer, I told my office mates in Nashville, a group that had become family, that I was leaving to join the staff at Union University.

Why head somewhere else when things were going so well? Basically, everything in our life pointed to Nashville being the place for us. Carol, my wife, was immersed in community and church life. Our oldest son was about to enter his senior year in high school. Our daughter and younger son had never known life anywhere but in Nashville. They loved it there. And we were going to do what?

Though the world view of Union University is undoubtedly Christian, the students there are on a constant search. Through the integration of faith and learning, they are challenged to influence our world as followers of Christ. It’s an exhilarating place.

The move was not without pain.

Prior to my arrival I thought a lot about what life might be like on a college campus. Some of those thoughts were right on target, but many were not. The first year here was tough. Sometimes I wondered if God hadn’t said, “Go to Jackson,” but rather, “No, not Jackson!” My stress level was at an all-time high. Rather than immersing myself in a new work, I spent misdirected time thinking about why this must not be right.

Finally, I began to listen a little more carefully to God than to myself.

James 1:5-6 says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.” I had taken on the role of a wave. I asked, but doubted.

Often my gaze was only upon myself when in I Thessalonians 5:11 we are told to encourage one another and build each other up. Have you ever noticed how hard it is to be overwhelmed by yourself if you focus on the needs of others? Those who need encouragement surround me every day.

It’s amazing how exciting life can be when you just believe what is said in Ephesians 2:10: “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Life is not about knowing the facts; it’s about knowing Him. It’s about a day-by-day, moment-by-moment, even assignment-by-assignment relationship that can give you a perspective on life, a view of this world that is even more marvelous than the pages of the Geographic in the hands of an eighth grader.

God has given me an opportunity to get involved in a great work that He’s already begun. I’m not here to create or even recreate. I’m here to listen and respond, not forgetting, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1).