For many, including myself, this week is very special as it marks holy weeks for both Christians and Jews.

I am a Christian, and today is Maundy Thursday. “Maundy” comes from Latin and means “a new commandment I give to you.”

As part of my Thursday blog posts, I’ve dedicated this time to share more of my personal journey. It’s a chance to step away from the professional and allow you to get to know me as a person. Now, don’t be alarmed that I’m talking about my faith. If you’ve known me long enough, you know I’m not one to wear my faith on my sleeve. I’m much more of a “walk the walk, not talk the talk” kind of person. But because my faith shapes my values and who I am, it’s important to talk about and I’m not ashamed of that.

Like many Christians, I grew up in the faith. My parents took me to church from a young age. I was christened in the Methodist Church and later confirmed there as a teenager. When my parents divorced I was 10 and I moved to Raleigh with my mom and brother, I don’t recall stepping foot in a church again, except maybe once or twice when visiting my dad.

Both of my parents grew up as preacher’s kids. My dad’s background was Pentecostal Holiness, where rock & roll music was considered the devil’s work. My mom’s father was a Methodist minister with a PhD in Philosophy from Duke University. He enjoyed wine, and, as I later learned, had inappropriate relations with my mom and her siblings. That likely explains why my mom stepped away from religion for a time. I will share more about that someday when the memory isn’t so fresh.

My dad had an evolving view on religion and church, but some of his upbringing stuck with him. One of our biggest arguments happened when I was visiting him. As we were getting ready for church, I came out of the bedroom without a tie, and he lost it.

“Jimmy,” he said, “you can’t go to church looking like that.”

My response: “Jesus wore a loincloth and sandals. Do you really think it matters what I’m wearing?”

Fast-forward a few years to when I met my soon-to-be wife, Hollyn. While we were dating, we talked a lot about our faith journeys. I was feeling a pull to return to church. Not because I had turned away from God, but because I had distanced myself from organized religion and the Church itself.

We agreed that if we were going to stand in a church and proclaim our love for one another, and if we were going to raise a family, we wanted faith to be part of that foundation. The question became: where?

While living in Greensboro, we visited around 20 churches across different denominations. We eventually found a home at Westminster Presbyterian, which offered a blended worship style – mixing contemporary and traditional elements with a modern, Gospel-centered message. It resonated deeply with me.

Not long after, we found out we were expecting our first child – a son.

A dear friend at work shared something with me that changed my faith trajectory forever. He said:

“Jim, I’m so excited that you’re having a child. Now you will fully understand the sacrifice God made when He gave up His Son for us.”

WOW. My mind was completely blown.

The next major milestone in my faith journey was attending a weekend retreat called the Walk to Emmaus. It’s based on Luke 24:13–35, where the resurrected Jesus walks alongside two discouraged disciples. The retreat is designed to help you recognize Christ’s presence in your own life.

At the time, Hollyn was pregnant with Nelson, and I attended with my dad, who experienced a transformation of his own. As he got older, he became more Christ-like in the way he lived. That’s a story for another time.

During the retreat, I was feeling the Spirit, but something happened that I will never forget.

At that point in my life, I was “doing all the things”. I was going to church, singing along (even clapping occasionally), believing in the Trinity. I thought I was being a good Christian. But I also felt there had to be more.

During a long period of silent reflection, I sat with my Bible, unsure where to turn. Then I thought about a number that had always been meaningful to my brother and me: 217. It randomly shows up in our lives all the time.

So I thought. My name is Jim, short for James… I wonder what James 2:17 says?

I turned to it, read it—and my jaw dropped:

“Faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.”

Again… mind blown.

It’s one thing to say you believe. It’s another to live it.

I had been patting myself on the back for showing up on Sundays and occasionally attending other church activities. But were my actions truly aligned with my faith? Was I living the way Christ called me to live?

The honest answer was no.

And if I was going to be a disciple of Christ, I needed to do more than just show up. Faith requires action. It requires prioritizing a relationship with Jesus, loving God and others unconditionally, serving the marginalized, forgiving freely, practicing humility and living with gratitude.

Tomorrow is Good Friday; a day I once struggled to understand. Why call it “good” when it marks the crucifixion?

But it is good because it represents the ultimate act of love and the fulfillment of God’s plan for our salvation.

And then comes Easter.

We will proclaim, “He is risen,” and return to our daily lives. But James 2:17 will always stay with me.

You won’t often hear me talk about it but I hope you’ll see it. In how I serve my family, my friends, the organizations I’m part of and my community.

I’ll never be perfect and I don’t claim to be. Neither are you. And that’s okay.

After all, the church is a collection of sinners, not saints.