Summary: My wife, Melissa, and I met at the First Baptist Church of Doraville, Georgia -- a northern suburb of Atlanta. She had lived in the same house all of her life and had attended the same Baptist church. My family became involved there when I was a teenager. First Baptist is the church that taught me about Christian community. It was where I preached my first sermon and years later went forward to tell the church that I felt called to full-time Christian service. First Baptist was where I was ordained and where Melissa and I were married. I thought our church was exceptional and unique and that no other place would have what they have, no other place would love me and accept me like the people of Doraville. I simply did not trust how big the church was. I did not understand the family tree that connected First Baptist back to a little band of Middle Eastern Christ followers who called themselves, "The Way". Imagine that, a blue-collar church in suburban Atlanta can trace its roots to a first century tribe that gathered for mostly the same purpose -- preaching and teaching and telling. One day, things changed for that little Palestinian church -- one day, Peter got up to preach and there were people there from every region, Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia -- and Peter preached the resurrection story and 3,000 people were added to the rolls of the church. In one day, the church went from the size of a Sunday School class to a 3,000 member mega-church. My home church in Doraville traces her lineage back to that day.
