Stormtrooper Discovers the Love of God, Gets Saved

One of my favorite stories is the time a stormtrooper got saved at Fearless.

He may have dressed as a stormtrooper, but his name is Gabe. You never know what you’re going to get when you have church in a nightclub in downtown Los Angeles. When we first met Gabe, we had no clue just how awesome he was. He was amazing as a person, but we had no clue that he was a real stormtrooper. To become a real stormtrooper, you have to be approved by the Official Star Wars Fan Club. Gabe had an official number and everything. We met him on the streets of downtown LA while hosting our first ever block party. We gathered all the downtown residents—the homeless, the hipsters, the businessmen. What a crowd it was! We blocked off a parking lot, put up a bounce house and a mechanical bull, and gave out free food. Pretty irresistible, if you ask me!

We gathered quite the crowd simply by sending a smoke-flavored chicken aroma through the atmosphere of downtown. We were having a blast just loving on our community. During the outreach, I got up on a small platform and shared why we were doing this. I told the crowd how God brought us there to love more and fear less, and that our church was named Fearless. The God of love told us to love people until they asked why. When I got off the stage, I knew I would get a lot of whys. One in particular came through our good friend Gabe. Gabe was a hardcore punk rocker. He had a punk rock jacket, a nose ring, and a bright pink mohawk that stood about 2 feet tall above his head. When Gabe approached me, I was able to share with him the why behind our love for the community. I explained that Jesus first loved us, and that this love wasn’t from us but was the love of Jesus displayed through us. That day in the middle of downtown, Gabe surrendered and turned his life over to the perfect love of Jesus. I invited him to the church service we were having the next morning. I didn’t know if he would come, or if he was just being cordial, but it seemed like what happened in him that day was real.

The next morning, I looked for Gabe, searching for the pink mohawk as I opened the service. No pink mohawk. But halfway through the service I noticed that Gabe was there. He had been in the back row the whole time. The reason I couldn’t see his pink mohawk was because he had a hood on. I ran up to him, and when I saw his eyes, I could tell something was wrong. “Gabe, what’s wrong man? Why are you so down? I’m so pumped you’re here.” He said, “Yesterday after we met, I failed God. I went and got high again on the things He just forgave me of. How could I be so rude to Him? As soon as He gives me life, I go back to death.” As the worship team played, I began to explain to Gabe that the journey with Jesus is just that, a journey, and that God wasn’t mad at him; He was madly in love with him. I encouraged Gabe and told him that I was proud of him for even coming to church. I said, “Gabe, how can I make you more comfortable?” Gabe reluctantly responded, “The only way I know I feel comfortable is in my suit.” I figured he was talking about a three-piece suit. Boy, was I wrong. I said, “Gabe, anytime you want to wear your suit, you rock that suit.”

The service went on. I preached my sermon and gave an altar call, inviting people to receive Jesus. A few raised their hands, we cheered, and we prayed together. At the end there was a moment when I felt from the Holy Spirit that there was one more person who needed to respond. I extended my altar call again, and out of nowhere a stormtrooper came hopping down to the front from the back of the nightclub. This shy voice coming out of the mask responded to the call saying, “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me.” I was halfway in shock and a little confused, and so was the audience. People immediately began to pull out their phones to capture this unusual moment. I thought to myself, “Only in LA would we have this final person be a real-life stormtrooper.” I could see security wondering what they should do. “Was this person harmless, or did he have plans to do something violent? Was he plotting something with his fake gun?” Once he got closer, he began to remove his white helmet, and to my surprise, it was Gabe! Instantly it hit me, “Oh, that’s your suit.” He had gone home for the rest of the message and arrived right on time to hear my second call. I said, “Well, I guess God is turning even the dark side to the light today. Next will be a Sith Lord or Darth Vader.” Only in LA, only my Jesus.

What an amazing journey it is to allow the love of God to love on people through you. God isn’t mad at us, He loves us with extreme love. He loves us just how we are, and it’s that love that beckons us to continue to be more like Him. You need to hear this today: You bring joy to God’s heart. He will never reject you. His call is irrevocable. There is nothing you can do to remove it.

A Big Mac, Fries, and a Coke

Gabe’s salvation was not the first time I’ve seen Him meet a son in power. His eyes are not on crowds; they’re on the hurting, broken sons and daughters hidden in every crowd. Ministers get it mixed up when we like crowds and Jesus loves His kids in the crowd. The lengths He goes to rescue just one often blows my mind.

One of my favorite examples of this was revealed to me through a guy named Cardboard.

Rewind to my early days of ministry way before Fearless Church. After a few years of youth ministry, I went away to complete college. Because I had been in full-time ministry, I couldn’t help but see the hurt and pain on my own college campus. Those who had shown up with dreams of changing the world grew apathetic while consuming a steady diet of homework, theological debates, video games, and discovering new music on their illegally downloaded programs. In many ways, our Christian Bible college looked no different than a secular campus. These people were just better at hiding what was really going on in their lives. It broke my heart to see that those studying the Word so diligently didn’t know the love on its pages. One day it hit me, I wasn’t there to just get a degree. Ultimately, I was there to show the people around me who they were again. I knew that having a job in the Kingdom would give them purpose again. I had seen this work with teenagers, so I figured it must also work with college students. Then, that purpose drove discipleship. So, as I would travel and speak in the area to different youth ministries, I would invite along whomever from school wanted to go. The first time a crew went with me, God touched them as they prayed for students and watched their lives change through the Gospel. It was as if they remembered the reason they were born—to go into all the earth and make disciples. They saw themselves in those teenagers’ eyes. Later that year, we began going out so much that Intense Ministries was formed. I wrote a drama to give the students jobs. Playing a role was a way for them to find some belonging. One of the guys in the drama team was a dancer, so he asked to start writing some dances. This pulled in a whole new crew of people. My roommate loved filming videos, so we started making videos that went along with the dances and dramas. Before we knew it, we were meeting every Tuesday night to rehearse the major production we had written purely out of the thought that “these people need something to do.” The funny thing is, we had nowhere to bring it. After it was done, I began to ask God what He wanted to do with it.

There are so many stories I could tell you about my time with Intense Ministries. When 9/11 happened, the dad of one of the girls in our ministry paid for all of us to fly to New York to minister on the streets. One time, the motor home we were given to travel in caught on fire in front of a gas station. In the aftermath of fixing that motorhome, an angel (I totally think it could have been!) pulled over on the side of the road and used gum to fix a pipe that was leaking. I remember the time we laid hands on the broken engine of our truck, and even though mechanics told us it would never run again, it started. My favorite story has to be Cardboard’s, though.

This time we joined with another ministry on the streets of Hollywood. They did an outreach there every year, and they blocked off the streets and gave out something for free, which of course would gather a crowd. This year, the free items were hot dogs and Sunny Select sodas. It worked; over 5,000 people had gathered by noon! The street was packed. Our drama team and dance team performed, and then it was my time to speak. I also can’t forget to mention that I had a fresh set of dreads. At the last minute, the guy who played Jesus in all of our plays canceled, so I volunteered to get dreads so I could play Jesus. After playing Jesus in the drama, I walked to the front of the stage. It hit me as I walked up there, how exciting this was. There were 5,000 people, most of them unbelievers, in Hollywood. It reminded me of the Book of Acts—the church shows up with God’s power and people gather, and are changed for all of eternity.

I couldn’t wait to tell them about the love of Jesus. I got about three words into my testimony when something strange happened. My microphone began to cut out. Pretty soon it was going in and out to the point that people began laughing as I was speaking. I looked up at the sound guy. He looked just as frazzled as me, with sweat pouring down his head and his fingers frantically pressing every button. I looked at my teammates, who were praying. One elderly lady from the event even jumped on the stage and started putting anointing oil on the speakers and cables. I’m not sure that was the best idea, but hey, we were desperate. Over 5,000 people were waiting to hear the Gospel. We had planned this entire event for this moment. Surely God was going to show up and fix it. In that moment, every second felt like eternity. Two minutes went by, and then five, and then 10, 20, and by the time we hit 60 minutes, our faith had dwindled, and our hopes were crushed. People started leaving in droves, hundreds exiting the little space where we had gathered. As soon as they finished their hot dogs, they figured we weren’t getting the sound system back on. I don’t blame them.

I still remember the feeling as I sat on the edge of the stage. I was royally disappointed that God didn’t show up. It was such a letdown to our team and all the volunteers who had worked so hard to see this event come to pass. I had seen God show up so many times before. I had seen Him restore vision, heal backs, and destroy cancer. He even supernaturally fixed our motor home. I knew He could do it, so why didn’t He? I was so mad at God. I couldn’t figure out why He would bring us all the way there for it to result in nothing, no advance of the Kingdom. What a waste, I thought. I got to such a low place while I sat on that stage that I said the stupidest thing I’ve probably ever said: “Fine, God. If You don’t want them saved, then neither do I. You know what, God? I don’t want a hot dog or Sunny Select soda. I want a Big Mac, a large fry, and a large Coke.” I had been eyeing McDonald’s the whole day. So, I began my journey across the street to buy my dinner and sulk. As I wandered over there, I tripped on something right in front of the door; this “something” was a person. An old, weathered man popped up and introduced himself. “The name’s Cardboard,” he shouted in an angry, don’t-mess-with-me kind of way. I moved on and tried to ignore him, pretending like I didn’t just trip over him. Growing up in a small town, we’d always been told there were some crazy people in LA, and this was my first encounter with one of them.

Seconds later, I opened the door at McDonald’s, and the smell of the fries made me forget all about Cardboard. As I was ordering, I got a call from one of our team members saying we needed to clean up, so after my order was ready, I headed out the door. This time, I walked around Cardboard, who was back asleep, thank God. When I was about 10 feet from Cardboard, I heard the overwhelming voice of God for the first time. “Jeremy, go give your Big Mac, large fry, and Coke to Cardboard. You got that for him, not for you.” So I did what any believer would have done in my shoes. I said, “Get behind me, satan, in the name of Jesus! You foul spirit, go back to where you belong.” The voice just got louder and louder, and louder, though. I felt like if I were to eat one of the fries, a bolt of lightning might come from heaven and strike me down. Really though, it was intense. So, finally I went back to Cardboard. I was scared to wake him up, but God was not letting up on it. When he woke up and wiped the sleep from his eyes, he had no clue I was the guy he had yelled at earlier. He sat up, and the smell of urine and alcohol flooded my nostrils as he moved to hear what I was going to say. “Hello, Cardboard. My name is Jeremy. This may be strange, but I got you something—a Big Mac, a large fry, and a large Coke.” I handed Cardboard the three items and began to walk away.

As I walked away, I thought nothing of what had just happened, except that God also took away my Big Mac, my large fry, and my Coke and gave it to Cardboard. My mind began to think like an orphan: “This must be punishment for my attitude earlier.” As I was in my own victim mentality, I heard Cardboard yell to me from behind, “Who told you to give me this?” I wasn’t sure why, but he was very disturbed about what just happened. In order to calm him down, I walked back toward him. “Is everything okay?” I asked. Looking me in the eyes, he asked again: “Who told you to give me this?” “Cardboard, you’re never going to believe this, but here it goes. God told me to give it to you.” When I said those words, Cardboard looked at me as if he had seen a ghost. He said, “It’s you.” “It’s me,” I responded. “It’s you; you’re the guy who was on stage.” Then he asked me, “How did you know?” “Know what?” I asked. He just looked up and then crumbled to the ground weeping and muttering under his breath, “There’s no way, there’s no way, there’s no way.” I finally calmed him down, and he began to explain to me what had happened.

“Let me reintroduce myself. My name is Samuel. I used to attend the church that put the outreach on that you are part of today. Four years ago, I lost my job, my wife lost her job, and we have two kids. After not being able to pay our rent for months, they finally evicted us. I wound up out here with my family on the street. I didn’t know what to do, so I just started begging, and we popped in and out of shelters before ending up here. I built a shelter out of cardboard for my wife and kids, so the locals gave me a new name: Cardboard. After a few months out here, my wife and kids left me. Every year the church that I loved would come out to the streets and tell us how much they loved us, and would give us a meal. Then the next day, I would be out here alone again.

“Jeremy, I have to be honest; I’ve grown bitter, to the point that I didn’t believe there was a God anymore. In fact, today as they began to set up their annual outreach, I heard a voice inside my head that said, ‘God isn’t real.’ I couldn’t get it to go away, so I just drank myself to sleep. When I woke up, it was still there. That’s when the drama team was performing on stage. I just kept hearing the voice say, ‘God’s not real.’ Then the voice told me to climb to the top of the building.”

Cardboard pointed to a seven-story building next to where we were doing the outreach. The building had businesses on the first and second floors, but the rest of the floors looked like they had been boarded up and abandoned. He continued, “I climbed up to the top of the fifth floor. I went out to the window ledge where the fire escape was. I sat there, and then I heard the voice say, ‘Jump. Life isn’t worth living.’ As I saw you coming to the front, I climbed to the end of the ledge, and right before I was about to leap, I heard another voice say, ‘Samuel, ask Me for anything.’ I remember getting angry. ‘Not now, God; You can’t be real. Okay, You have one shot. I don’t want a hot dog or a Sunny Select soda. I’m going to go lay under my blanket, and I want that guy, the guy with the dreads, to bring me a Big Mac, a large fry, and a large Coke. I’ll be waiting under my blanket.’” Then, his eyes began to tear up. “And here you are with a Big Mac, a large fry, and a large Coke.”

That day, I didn’t lead thousands in a sinner’s prayer, but I did lead one; his name was Samuel, but the world called him Cardboard. I don’t know what happened to Cardboard after that moment, but I do believe that he encountered God—not church, not religion, but the power of the living God that breaks all the rules to rescue His lost sheep. Then it hit me; God had planned this whole thing. The sound issue was not an accident or a malfunction. God took over the sound system. He shut it down, and there was nothing we could have done to get it back on. That day, I learned that God never makes a mistake. As I walked back to the event area, I saw things with new eyes. I saw the 300 volunteers cleaning up the mess that 5,000 people had left. It took hours just to get the streets back to the way they were. Wow! 300 people getting off work, arranging for babysitters, and driving through LA traffic. I mean, the permits it would’ve taken to block off the city streets in Hollywood, the weeks waiting for approval, the hundreds of emails back and forth. All the food that was donated, and what it took to get those donations. The 14 cooks that spent hours grilling hot dogs. However, the person we came for would not watch the drama or eat the hot dog or even stand in the blocked-off zone we had created. God did all of this through us not for 5,000, but for one. This one didn’t even have a name anymore. He wasn’t the mayor, he wasn’t a celebrity, he wasn’t a well-to-do family man. In fact, he had lost his family and was just trying to survive. I am overwhelmed by this reckless love of God. God doesn’t see crowds; He sees the one. In fact, He’s always seen the one. Maybe today you feel embarrassed like Gabe the stormtrooper or abandoned and forgotten like Cardboard. God both sees and loves you at your worst as if you were the only one. The Bible says, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8 NIV). He is not embarrassed of you or ghosting you. He gave His very life to redeem you at your worst. Let God break sin and shame today with His perfect love. God loves everyone from the drug addict stormtrooper to the lost homeless man named Cardboard. God has not forgotten you, because you are His kid. Let that destroy your fear today—God’s eyes are on you today. He not only sees you, He adores you. He is not mad at you but madly in love with you. Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re His. Let that drive you to Him, not from Him.