"From Isolation to Community: A Jericho Epiphany at OCC"
I have spent a lifetime pushing people away. To be honest, I’m not even sure why I started doing it in the first place, because deep down within me, there is a very real desire to be around people and to be woven into their lives. To love and be loved deep rested in the recesses of my heart of hearts
For as long as I can remember, I have operated by strict boundaries—at least a "five- and ten-inch rule." I wouldn't dare get into anyone else's space, and heaven forbid anyone crossed that sacred, invisible line into my own ten-inch circumference. I wonder at times why I spent a lifetime locking people out of my world. It must have worked with terrifying efficiency, because up until September 2025, I had never experienced a lasting friendship or relationship in my entire life, save for the two women I was married to at different times.
Isolation became my armor. But God—and only God—knew the quiet, aching truth hidden deep within the recesses of my heart: I needed people. I needed real friendships, genuine connections, and community. Outside of my dad, my sister, and my niece—relationships that, for a long time, were still kept cautiously at arm’s length—my world was entirely empty.
“Then, something absolutely monumental transpired starting November 1, 2025.”
After years of setbacks, false starts, and avoiding church doors, I finally stepped back into One Community Church (OCC).
The Holy Spirit was already quietly dismantling the fortresses I had built from a lifetime of trauma. When you live in that deeply wounded, hyper-vigilant, self-focused state, the moment you experience pain or offense, your absolute first instinct is to pull away and isolate big time.
I learned that survival tactic at just 11 years old, and breaking through those decades of concrete walls has been the fight of my life.
There were countless seasons of taking two steps forward, only to feel like I never even managed three steps ahead.
In spite of it all, by the grace of God, I have been going consistently and faithfully to OCC for nine months now.
Every time those doors are open, I am there. Even walking into "Community Brothers" on Monday nights required a heavy dose of courage, but the Holy Spirit put the boldness within my heart to come into that group of men without fear.
That courage led to another pivotal, terrifying move: stepping back onto the OCC Serve Team, all while navigating a season of deep, quiet servitude as a full-time caregiver for my dad. Serving every other Sunday, I am now closing in on the three-month mark.
This last Sunday, however, was entirely different. It hit on a soul level.
During our 9:00 AM Serve Team meeting, led by our greet team leader James, the atmosphere in that small room shifted. We talked, we prayed, and the tangible presence of God filled the space. Then came the huggers—especially exceptional believers like Earnest and Mary—and the release of joy of laughter and smiles! I don't mean light, polite side-hugs, but strong, wrap-around embraces. I didn't come from an affectionate, hugging family. Physical touch was foreign to me. For me to actually want to give someone a hug and lean into it with my whole heart is nothing short of a divine miracle. We hugged, we laughed, and I felt a profound spiritual realignment among the greet team that morning. God was healing something old in real time.
There was also a defining moment of closeness that I tangibly felt with the other team members that Sunday. Walls are truly being broken so I can have close, healing relationships with other people in that church body of Spirit-filled believers.
In that Sunday morning group, I took a breath and stepped up to be an offering usher in the sanctuary during the morning service. I could see the surprising smile on my team leader’s face. I have been able to share some of my history in previous early Sunday morning meetings.
In the past, the sensory overload of the sanctuary—especially after already greeting so many people at the door—was too much to bear. It had forced me to quietly step down three separate times since 2022.
As I walked down the aisle with the offering plate, I looked up and saw big, encouraging smiles waiting for me—especially from Francine and Rhonda! They understood the invisible war behind my steps. They knew this wasn't just a church duty; it was a massive, spiritual victory over fear and trauma.
It blows my mind that God used my healing to blow the minds of others. But the truest grace of that Sunday wasn't just my victory—it was realizing that God allowed my breakthrough to become a blessing to an entire church body who rejoices even now, right alongside me.
“No wall erected can match the mighty fist of God through the power of the Holy Ghost. He is the God that breaks down every wall.”
Richard Bailey Hicks
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