My name is Robert, but everyone calls me Bobby or Robbie. My last name is Ferrell, spelled f-e-r-r-e-l-l. I’m from Aurora, Colorado, just outside of Denver.

I started high school at Grandview, but I had some discipline and attendance issues, so I ended up going to an alternative school called CC Prep. It was over by Jordan and Arapahoe, but it doesn’t exist anymore. After that, things took a different direction for me.

Growing up, I didn’t have a religious upbringing. My parents were young—teenage parents—and God or faith wasn’t really a part of our conversations. My dad is a devoted Christian, though I’m not sure to what level, but he was in and out of my life, so it didn’t have much of an impact on me at the time. The only times I went to church as a kid were with friends when I slept over. It wasn’t until adulthood that I started going to church, and that’s been very recent.

In my 20s and into my 30s, my faith was all over the place. I used to pray when I was younger, especially at night before bed or when I really needed something. But there was a period when I didn’t believe in God or Jesus. I considered myself more of a spiritual person during that time.

I was baptized recently, and that was a powerful experience. A lot of people showed up for me, even those who don’t go to church or that particular church. It felt like a fresh start, a chance to hit reset. There was something special about it, like it was my way of making a personal statement to those who have known me for a long time. It was a traditional step in many ways, but it felt very personal, too.

I've always felt like there was something—someone—watching over me, especially in tough times. A couple of years ago, I got a really bad DUI, lost a great job, and my life felt like it was falling apart. My dad and my best friend Jeremy kept encouraging me to pray, to have conversations with God, not just talk at Him but really engage. There were moments I was desperate, asking God for direction, telling Him if He showed me the way, I would follow. That was a turning point for me.

Now, I'm involved in the church, volunteering and helping out, though I still wrestle with struggles like alcohol. My journey has been far from perfect, but I've started to feel like I’m finding my place.

When I first met CB, he was already on his path, working on starting the church. Jeremy, who helped CB baptize me, introduced us. We all used to be in a collective of artists and musicians, and CB stood out as a father figure to many of us. He never judged—still doesn’t—despite the fact that many of us were lost or lacked male role models. CB just had this presence and connection, like a mentor, but without judgment.

His wife and he would come to our shows when I used to make music, always supporting us. Even after the collective drifted apart, CB remained a constant figure in my life. When I moved back to Louisiana, feeling unfulfilled and struggling, I started considering church as a place to explore deeper meaning. It took time, though, before I fully committed to being part of the community.

CB being both a pastor and an artist made a huge difference. He connected with us creatively and spiritually, which made it easier for me to relate to him. He’s always been there, and his authenticity kept me coming back.

I’ve realized I had to go all in—no more sitting on the fence. The accountability, the sense of community in the church, these were things I was missing for a long time. The more I gave to others, the more I found God working in my own life. That was a huge lesson for me—praying for others, not just myself, really started to change things.

Even though I'm still learning and growing in my faith, I try to focus on gratitude. Every day I stop to reflect on things I'm thankful for and the things I’m working toward. It's been grounding, reminding me of the bigger picture.

One of the scriptures I connect with, though I can't remember it exactly, is about walking with Christ and never being in darkness—always being in the light. That idea has stuck with me as I continue this journey. It reminds me that I’m never truly lost as long as I stay close to God.

As for my tattoos, they each have their own meaning. I've got a moon and sun on my hand, a tribute to the band Sublime, and even a video game cheat code for infinite ammo from Grand Theft Auto. These tattoos are a part of me, just like my journey with faith.

For anyone walking a similar path, my advice is this: don’t question too much or expect too much all at once. It’s easy to get stuck wondering why there’s so much suffering in the world, or why bad things happen. I’ve been there, questioning why a loving God would allow things like war, cancer, or genocide. I don’t have all the answers, but I’ve learned that sometimes we just have to trust in God’s plan and keep moving forward, knowing there’s light ahead.