I’m the fifth of six children who survived to adulthood from Miflin and Mary Rose Moyer. Due to what we used to call a severe "RH Factor" blood problem, my parents lost several children during pregnancy and birth. It is a true miracle that my younger brother and I are even alive!
I was born in 1957 and lived my first 17 years in the tiny, mountainous town of Eastport, Idaho. Eastport topped 100 inhabitants only by including dogs and cats in the census. When I say I grew up on the Canadian border, I’m serious. Our northern property line was Canada.
It was 32 miles to the next town of Bonners Ferry (population 1800). That is where I attended high school. Go Badgers!
The next closest town was another 32 miles and it had less than 5000 people. Needless to say, HUD was not a big part of the local economy.
Speaking of economy, we had a sawmill appropriately called Moyer Lumber Company that my dad, two brothers and I operated until dad’s back went out during my sophomore year of high school. Even then, most nights after school my younger brother and I (the only two still at home) helped dad fell trees and load the logs on our truck. The next morning I’d drive the truck to school and deliver the logs to another mill after school. Then I’d head home and we'd do the same thing again.
Working in the woods limited my extra curricular activities but I squeezed in swims in the mountain lakes and rivers, fishing, hiking to the tops of surrounding peaks, hunting, climbing to the top of tall pines during windstorms and drag racing on our remote two lane highways. Work prohibited me from partaking in sports, but I was in the band (saxophone) and actually became band president my senior year - probably be the only elected office I’ll ever hold.
Though I was a responsible, hard working kid, inwardly I was a tormented soul. I suppose the source of my agony could have been Dad’s alcoholism or sexual molestations early in my childhood. Irregardless, I was also a self-conscious, hard drinking kid (a nasty habit I picked up in the eighth grade) who had absolutely zero confidence.
Immediately after graduating from high school in 1975 and all of 17, I, like every other member of my family, entered military service. I joined the military partly out of a sense of honor and partly because I thought I was too stupid for college.
I served five years with the Air Force in Mississippi, Virginia and Guam. I loved it even though the military was very unpopular at that time (shortly after the Vietnam War). Unfortunately, I also loved to drink and party (at least that was my excuse) and that became an increasingly serious issue for me especially after adding marijuana to my repertoire.
While serving in Guam I found myself severely depressed over my inability to combat alcoholism and self-doubt. Purely as an alternative to suicide, I shyly looked to God for help. To my utter surprise, in Jesus Christ I found the acceptance, strength, purpose and hope that had eluded me my entire life.
Shortly after becoming a Christian I felt called to serve God full-time so I could help others experience his love and grace as I had. Because I enjoyed the military so much, my plan was to become an Air Force Chaplain. I nearly passed out when I discovered this would require me, a guy who bearly survived high school alive, to get a college degree, a three year masters degree and a two year internship.
Nevertheless, I sucked it up and a year or so after my discharge I headed off to a tough private school called Whitworth College in Spokane, WA. Because I had been out of high school so long, they put me on probation instead of making me take the SATs. Since I could bearly read or write, this plan greatly pleased me! To my utter shock, I graduated summa cum laude a mere three and a half years later.
More importantly, just before my senior year in 1983, I married Clothwoman after we had dated for a couple of years.
Then it was off to seminary in Wilmore, KY. Halfway through my three year seminary training the President implemented a major downsizing of the military. Suddenly there were no openings for chaplains in the Air Force and wouldn't be for several years to come.
I had never considered or wanted to be a pastor. Never. Now after investing nearly six years in ministry schooling, I had no choice.
I hadn't grown up in "the church" and didn’t want to be a pastor, yet my only real option was to become a pastor. Needless to say, God and I had some very serious and tense discussions during that time.
Besides not wanting to be a pastor, I'd always been considered a bit weird by church people. So it was obvious to me a traditional church and I would mix about as well as ketchup and peanut butter.
Therefore, it was decided by everyone involved that maybe the best plan would be for us to plant (start) a new church. This way we wouldn’t freak out an existing church and people who started coming to the new church would know exactly what they were getting into. So we left Kentucky and moved to Missoula, Montana to plant a church.
That was 17 years ago and we’re still here. Over that time the church we started has greatly evolved to where it is now a network of Christian home groups called High Point Adventures.
We are relationally connected groups of people pursuing a healthy relationship with God and others. We gather in homes, offices, etc. in lieu of traditional church buildings and programs. Although, we do meet corporately once a month at a local conference center.
Clothwoman and I will celebrate our 21st anniversary this summer (assuming I don’t forget). Somehow, we have the two best kids in the world, Clothgirl (14) and Clothboy (12).
I absolutely love Montana, completing (not competing in) triathlons, camping, hiking, good movies, ice cream, adventure, climbing to the top of tall pines during windstorms, NASCAR, hanging out with good friends and writing about the amazing experiences I find almost daily in my simple life with Jesus.
