David Keith
My Story…
I grew up attending church. Throughout my life I was always keenly aware that there was a God, and that the Earth was created by Him. However, there seemed to be a major gap between us. A true understanding or any inkling of a relationship did not exist, and I had no idea that we could ever have one. Obeying the Ten Commandments, attending confession, and praying the rosary, was all I really ever knew of what I came to know as religion. Religion was just not for me.
My mother was a devout Catholic her entire life. She attended church every Sunday, prayed her rosary daily, and she made sure that I attended CCD and church weekly. I enjoyed, as I got to hang out with my friends as I was always a very social kid. Even as I went through high school, I would attend church and began to stand in the back of church behind the glass so that I could talk with my buddies. I knew that if I sat in the pew I was guaranteed to fall asleep to the steady monotonous voice of either the deacon or the priest. Questions began to form, and arguments with my mother ensued as I wondered why I had to listen to another man and treat him any differently than I would treat any “regular” person. My mother grew tired of trying to answer my deep and probing questions about the reason for church, so she let me rebel and not go with her. Guilt however, stepped in and I would attend anyway. Of course I would stand in the back once again and talk to my friends. My cynicism was growing, but my mother’s love for God was constant, and she prayed for me always.
After high school, I watched as many of the people I called friends began to experiment with drugs and drinking. Basketball was my love at the time, and Division I schools weren’t calling for me to play for them, as so I thought it was supposed to go down, so I signed up for the Army and left for a 2 ½ year enlistment. This broke my mother’s heart, and she was scared for me and wanted me home with her. I left anyway for boot camp in October of 1991. That was the last time I would ever see my mother healthy.
Only a few weeks, my mother contracted a rare disease called Guillen-Barre Syndrome. It’s a disease that attacks the coating of the nerves and causes all brain impulses travelling on them to not reach their destination. I was unaware as I went through the first two weeks of boot camp, besides we were not allowed to make phone calls anyway until the first two weeks was completed. During those first two weeks, I looked forward to calling her and letting her know how great things were going. She didn’t need to be worried. I was going to make her proud.
My mother and I were always very close. I was what I am now proud to say, a “Mama’s Boy.” I just loved being around her as much as I could. She was so sweet and so strong at the same time, and she taught me how to be sensitive to others and to love others regardless of their circumstances or looks. She was a Special Education teacher, and her calling in life was to always help children and teach. She taught me to cook and clean, to love music as she played the piano, to love art as she painted and drew and sketched beautifully. She was such a creative woman.
After two weeks was over, I was finally able to call home. However, every time I called home Mom was not home. She was at the grocery store, or at night classes, and I just could never get a hold of her. My brother or my dad would answer, we would talk for a bit, and then I would go on with my training. The Army kept me busy most of the time, but in the little time I had to think at night before falling asleep, I would think of her and usually hurt inside and wish I could see her and speak to her. Just hear her voice even. I missed her.
Three days before we were to graduate from boot camp and be soldiers, I was called to the First Sargent’s office. I was a little scared and I wondered what I had done wrong. It kind of felt like I was being called to the principal’s office and I didn’t know what for. When I got there, the First Sargent said that my dad was on the phone and he needed to speak to me. That’s when I got the news. Mom was sick, and not just normal sick. My mom was on a respirator, unresponsive, in ICU, and they did not know what the issue was. This disease was rare, particularly for the Rio Grande Valley.
There are no words to describe how I felt walking out of that office. I could tell you that I was devastated, sad, and angry, frustrated, lost, alone, scared, and helpless, but those words do no justice to how I really felt. Maybe numb works better than all of those. The next few days felt like a dream. I didn’t sleep much. I was put on bus to the airport and flew in to San Antonio where my dad met me to drive me to the hospital. He took me shopping, which was weird because he never did it. He bought the most expensive clothes ever. Strange as that was not his style. We went back to the hotel room and he told me to put on my dress greens before we go to see Mom. He said she might respond when she sees me. I played along.
Walking into the ICU and into her room, I really did not know what to expect. The beeping of the respirator and the EKG machine was what greeted me. Then I saw her. The beautiful musician, artist, teacher, mother, and friend was gone. She looked lifeless. She couldn’t even use her eyes. So much so that they were coated with Vaseline so that they wouldn’t dry out. I didn’t know what to do. I can’t even remember what I did. As a matter fact the next memory I have is of me being back in the barracks getting ready for graduation from basic training. Depression set in, but I made it through AIT training and on to my permanent address with the Army for the next two years. The rest is a blur. It must’ve been caused by all of the tears I cried alone in my barracks.
After my honorable discharge from the Army, I came home to help my brother and dad take care of my mom. She was confined to a wheelchair, and she could not do much on her own. I began to do all of the things my mother had done for me as a child. I fed her, cleaned her, bathed her, put her to bed, dressed her, and took her everywhere. Over the years that she steadily declined in health, she continued to attend church and pray daily. I started to go to church again. I started to try to get to know God. It was working.
It was now 1999. My mother had battled with pneumonia multiple times as an effect of being on a respirator for 6 months. She was now battling to breathe, fluid filling her lungs. I was with her when she passed away. It hurt like nothing has ever hurt before. Questions filled my mind again. Why did this beautiful God-Fearing woman have to die like this? She was so devoted. So Godly. So amazingly full of love. My thoughts began to tell me that if God could take her in such horrible torturous way, imagine what he will do to someone like me. I was done.
Temptation got the better of me. I did some things that I have since had to confess and repent for, more than once. I was a wretch. Lost, with seemingly nothing to hold on to. During the 7 years my mom slowly deteriorated, I had only managed to cling on to a small piece of my belief in God. Just a small tiny light that couldn’t be felt or seen at the time. I know now that God was fighting for me. That flame was still flickering in my dark and cold heart. I hurt many people during this time, and I hurt myself. But the light kept burning.
God sent Rosette, my wife, to me. I had dated her in high school, and she was always so mature and beautiful. I always felt that she was out of my league, but I faked the confidence when I was with her and got by. I wasn’t ready for her, even after I got back from the Army, and I hurt her many times. To be able to find her again, in the state that we were both in, is only explainable if God is in the equation. When we reconnected, we became friends for quite some time, after all, she knew my mother and was always wanting to comfort and help me. The relationship blossomed again, and we were married in 2001.
It is said that when you marry a woman, you marry her family as well. Its certainly true in my situation. I married into a Godly and humble, loving family. They were Baptists, and I had never attended a Baptist church in my life, so I had no idea what to expect. But I was in love with Rosette, and if she was going, then I was going with her. After all, God was in control of the entire thing.
My wife’s family is amazing. So amazing that I warned her on many occasions that I wasn’t as good as her family, and that I would mess up allot. I did, but they loved me anyway. Like a son and brother. Rosette’s mom became my mom, and boy was she amazing. Such love and beauty in her soul. She oozed Jesus, and always gave to everyone. She reminded me allot of my mom, and quickly loved her and made her mine.
So, my life was back on track. I was attending church and beginning to know God again. Literally, every time I went to church it felt like the message was for me. God was talking to me. I can recall one service during the time Rosette and I were really wanting to have kids that I was praying to God for one and I clearly heard a voice in my head say, “Give your life to me, and I will give life to you.” It meant that if I surrendered my heart to God, that we would have kids. He knew the way to my heart…kids, and it still is.
Soon after, in May of 2003, I got up from the pew at Calvary Baptist Church, and walked toward the front during the invitation. Mind you, we were seated on the balcony, as far back as you can get. I had not communicated with my wife about my feelings for wanting to be baptized, and come to think of it I had not even said to myself. I just felt a voice, if you know I mean, say “Go now!” When I got up from the pew, I could feel the weight of the chains trying to hold me down. My legs were numb, and my back hurt from the weight. I just started to walk and kept walking, and every step I took, I could feel, hear, and see the chains falling off of me.
As I approached Pastor Ellis, I tried to speak but couldn’t say a word. He had this look of amazement and understanding on his face and he said, “Ok, have a seat.” He knew. I was a broken man, seeking God. He must’ve seen that look before. Over the next few weeks, I met with Pastor Ellis and learned what baptism was all about. I was ready.
My new family was all there. My wife, my father-in-law, my new mother, my new daughter, my grandfather-in-law, and friends, all there to watch me show publicly what I had already done in my heart. I was all in. What a glorious moment. There was no turning back. All was right in the world.
After the service and baptism, we had a spaghetti lunch at our place and I settled in to watch the Cowboy game. Perfect day. Then the call came. I can still here my father-in-law’s voice. Something had happened to Angie, my new mom. I hung up and turned to my wife and said get in the car. We raced to my in-law’s house. When we arrived, there were ambulances and firetrucks there. We rushed in, and I saw the paramedics working on Angie as she lay on the floor. My father-in-law was slumped over the kitchen counter. All he said was, “She’s gone.” My heart sunk into my stomach, and all I could think was that I cannot believe you would do this again. You took another mom? Really God? Then all of what I had heard from years or scripture and messages from Pastor Ellis came flooding in. I turned to pray with Roy my father-in-law. I had never done that before, and I didn’t feel like doing it, but I did. That was faith.
Immediately after that, I grabbed a Bible and prayed and asked God to show me where to read. It opened to the story of Job and his suffering. That is the first time I had ever read that. He had me again. Angie was home, suffering is part of life, God did not do this to Angie or my mom. Circle complete. That’s how I came to Christ. I could no longer understand this world without Him.
At this time, I was coaching basketball and teaching at Sharyland High School. I recall a vision I had of conducting a basketball camp in Africa under the branches of an Acacia tree. I tried to fundraise for the trip, but I could never get any momentum. Nathan Jones, Fellowship of Christian Athletes Director, began to come around some more to the gym. He would give a devotional and then pray with the basketball athletes. He would also do the same with football and baseball, an anyone who would have him. What a stud Nathan is. He is one of only a handful of close friends that I have. Again, God had me.
I watched Nathan speak, read my Bible, prayed, went to church, listened to podcasts of awesome pastors from around the US, and began to share my thoughts on what I was reading with Nathan. One day he sent me a text that about made me faint and fall. It was an offer to host a basketball camp in Africa. I couldn’t say yes fast enough. It was an amazing trip. There was God again.
The name of the place is Moi’s Bridge, and it is an 8 hour flight to Amsterdam, an 8 hour flight from there to Nairobi, then a one and a half hour flight to Kitale, and finally a three hour drive to Moi’s Bridge. Sometimes we had electricity. Sometimes we had water. We always had mosquitos, but Nathan Jones and I were there to serve and to conduct a soccer and basketball camp. A vision that I had long ago was now happening. It the easiest thing that I have ever done.
It was in a small church in Moi’s Bridge that was baptized once again, this time in the Holy Spirit. I had heard about it before, but experiencing it was incredible. I remember staring at the concrete floor where I stood when it happened and not wanting to move. It was at that moment that a call for someone to lead a group of 5-12 year Sudanese students to accept Christ. I just walked right over and grabbed the microphone and began to pray for them. That was the first time I felt like a tool being used by God for His glory and not mine. I don’t even remember what I said, I only remember Nathan’s face when I got back to my chair. He was amazed. I just told him, “It wasn’t me man…It was the Holy Spirit.”
That happens regularly throughout my day, most of the time as I talk with a high school kid going through tough times. God uses me every day, and I love it. I make it a point to try every day to be vulnerable and accessible to kids I teach and coach.
The year is still 2013, and the sanctification is still going on. A quick note for you here, if you ever think that growth with Christ will ease up, it won’t. If it does, you need to ask for your eyes to be opened to your next growth opportunity. Another opportunity was on its way, I just wasn’t warned about it. It doesn’t work that way.
I can recall having instances of blindness during games as I coached. I had to sit down, as they would last for about 30 seconds. I got good at hiding them from my coaches and players. They must’ve thought that I was mad at them or something. My body got out of whack and stopped producing some key hormones that our body needs to operate correctly. I didn’t feel right, but I manned up and pressed on, that is of course until New Year’s Eve 2014.
We were playing Edinburg North in a key district basketball game with District Championship implications. We were not playing so well in the first half, and I let my team know that I was not going to let them play like this. I said some words that I am not proud of in the locker room, on the floor during the game, and to other coaches, as we marched toward a comeback and an amazing victory. I remember walking off the floor after the game being patted on the back and everyone saying what a great job I had done. But, I just couldn’t get past how I acted or the words I said. I swore I saw Nathan on my way to the locker room after the game and said, “I don’t like how I acted tonight.”
We got on the bus and headed toward Cici’s to eat. We were having a good time, even though how I had behaved was bothering me. Then it began to lose my sight. My vision was reduced to a pinhole, and I was a bit scared. I was able to hide the fear from everyone, perhaps because even though I was flesh was scared, my soul and heart was steady. It was almost like my soul was disconnected from my body and was at ease. I only know that now with time having passed and reflection occurring. There really is no other way to explain it.
My team was in the locker room getting ready to go home for their New Year’s Eve celebrations. I was December 31st, 2013. My life would change again drastically. I couldn’t recognize them when I walked into the locker room. I had planned a devotional and was excited to read it to them and pray. The words on the paper would melt together, and I had to close one eye to see anyone clearly. My players were scared, but my assistant picked up the paper and read it for us. We all prayed. They must’ve all been concerned as I began to get calls from worried parents. I still was not feeing truly frightened. Everyone else was.
I got home and my wife, brother, and dad were sitting at the kitchen table. They immediately said that I needed to go to the emergency room. I resisted. They forced me go. I called a former player who was an ER nurse and he got me in quick. They did CT scan and found the tumor. When they told my wife and I, I told my wife that we would cash in my retirement money and go to Europe or Hawaii or wherever she wanted to go. Then she looked at me and said, “Remember, you have been asking God for a way to share the Gospel with more people.” Wow! We both knew that was it. Right away we were at ease.
Immediately I began to share my journey through social media. Facebook, Twitter, my blog, email to all teachers of Sharyland ISD. As a matter of fact, my emails were so frequent to the district that a policy was written to not allow teachers and coaches to do that anymore. I was sharing quite a bit. All this speak of blessings from God must’ve rubbed somebody the wrong way. Good! Seed sown.
Surgery happened, after a long drawn out sequence of events that kept me from coaching any more that basketball season. I met so many people that prayed for me, and heard of the thousands that were praying beyond what I saw. The feeling I had was amazing. All of the prayers placed me in a place of feeling like God was with me all of the time. It was so easy, and painful, but still easy. The hardest thing to deal with was not being able to coach and be around those kids that I loved so much.
The Bible became my go to source to get to know my Savior Jesus Christ. Reading began with Matthew, and then through Mark, Luke, and John…the Gospels. I would read a certain passage, then share on social media and a blog that I still have. You can still find it at “faithvssight.com”. I learned so much about Jesus, and got to really know him as a man and my savior. Love is the word that comes to mind when I think of him.
Now here I am, a high school teacher and coach. I’ve been one for the past 18+ years. Through that time, I have come to know many kids. Some of them are hurting, and some are not yet hurting. Some know Christ, and some of them have no idea. Jesus says in Matthew 9:37 that, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.” That statement is just as accurate now as it was when Jesus said it. So many young people do not have anyone to tell them about what Jesus did for them, or the amazing truth that the Bible contains. I can see the faces of millions of kids walking hallways all over this world that don’t know about him. We have to tell them in the way that Jesus would tell them. Remember that it was through parables and stories that people could understand that he taught. He didn’t take scripture and throw it at them. He loved and talked with great caring to their hearts, and he met them right where they were. No prerequisites necessary. I try to do the same in the halls, classes, and gyms of where I have been.
This quote rings true today…”People won’t care how much you know, until they know how much you care.” Jesus love us first, without any requirement or hurdle to jump over. Sharing that with young men and women that walk the hallways of the schools I teach at and coach is the task that I have given. I don’t know for how long he will have me doing that in schools and gym floors, but regardless of where I am now, it won’t change the fact that Jesus has given me a commission to share his Gospel with as many people as I can. Share with whomever he puts in front of me.
The platform as basketball coach has allowed me to share what God has done for us through His son Jesus Christ. I hear some of my players try and poke fun by saying, “Where’s your Bible coach?”, or, “Oh no, here comes a speech from the Bible?” That is a blessing from God for sure, because those same kids get a dose of truth when I let them know that all great things come from the greatest book ever written. Then I quote scripture, and they ask if that really came from the Bible. Then I can repeat, “All good things come from God.”
Over the years, our basketball programs have been able to help many people in need. We offer our services to the community wherever we can. I like to tell people that we have an army of young men willing to help whenever the need arises. We are looking forward to a food drive in October, which will help get a jump start on an opportunity to feed people during Thanksgiving. This should allow us a chance to be able to wrap gifts for kids for Christmas, and then hopefully allow the kids to hand the gifts out in December. Giving is the greatest gift anyone can receive, and we can help teach these men and women that lesson.
It isn’t like I walk around making sure everyone knows I love God. They can see it in the way that I walk and talk. They can see something in me that has power and strength, and they are drawn to it. I know this because I have walked feeling powerless for many years, and I never saw people look at the way they look at me now. What they see in me now is the Holy Spirit, it’s not me. I make sure to remind myself of that when I see the look on people’s faces. I have been made new by the blood of Jesus. Once I accepted Him, the old David Keith died, and the new one arose. Since that day, I have felt the joy and pains of growth. Seasons come and seasons go. What remains steady is God’s word.
This was not written to shed light on anything I have done. It’s not about me at all. This was written to tell you that it is all about what God did for me in sending his son to save me. I mess up daily. I sin many more times that I can even count or keep up with. Paul told me in Philippians what it looks like. In Philippians 3:12-14 when he wrote, “12 Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. 13 Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 14 I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” This is me in summary. I know what others might say, but it makes no difference. Christ has forgiven me, and is at constant work in me and through me.
Faith vs. Sight 