“I’m coming back, and you’re not ready.” These words, though inaudible, pierced through my drunken haze, echoing in my mind as I stood before the wall-sized window, gazing at the lights of Gillette, Wyoming. Despite the blur of commotion around me—blaring music, clanking billiard balls, and raucous laughter—that voice spoke directly to my wayward and lost soul.
I was the third child of teenage parents, and life was not easy for our family on any front. By the time I reached age five, my parents’ marriage had ended. My brother and I stayed with our dad, while my sisters went with our mom. Our dad embraced the wild and selfish lifestyle of the unconverted, and my brother and I learned to survive on our own, scavenging food from a nearly empty fridge, behaving like hellions, and drinking the pony beers Dad gave us to allow himself a few moments of peace. It was not an environment in which any child should be raised.
A few years into this chaos, our mom’s brother, Uncle Scott, was passing through en route to a ski trip and stopped to see how we were doing. The situation was appalling to him—a newly converted Christian fresh out of a full-blown hippie lifestyle. He called our mom and said, “I’m taking these boys with me.” There was no objection from our dad. Thus began our first taste of family life, which was more in line with the way God intended it. He and his wife, Jackie, treated us like their own, fed us balanced meals, and introduced us to popcorn and apples, nutritional yeast and haystacks. We even attended Adventist church school for a couple of years. Life was good.
When I was around the age of eight, Mom decided she was ready to take on the two of us boys again. She worked hard and loved us, but it was a tumultuous life as she wandered out of one bad relationship and into another.
Another bright spot in our childhood came when we lived in Riverton, Wyoming, probably around the time I was in fourth grade. Dr. Omar Wagner was a counselor at our school. One Sabbath, we ended up at the local Adventist church because of a visiting relative, and Dr. Wagner, an Adventist, saw us there. From then on, he faithfully drove several miles out of town each Sabbath to pick us up, take us to church, welcome us into his home for a sumptuous Sabbath dinner, and then return us home. He and his wife, Arlene, did this regularly for two years until our family moved away. I distinctly remember him wrapping me in a big bear hug every Sabbath, and saying, “Jesus loves you!”
After the move from Riverton, our lives spiraled further out of control. Mom’s relationships went from bad to worse, and as we entered our teenage years, we fended for ourselves to a great extent, looking for love and attention in all the wrong places. Alcohol became a part of my life by the time I entered high school along with some of the “lighter” drugs that were a part of the high school party scene.
As I approached the end of high school, my goals were shallow, self-centered, and hollow: to have fun, play basketball like Michael Jordan, and get rich. After I graduated, I continued with my party lifestyle. I got a shot at college ball and stuck it out as a college student for one year to live this dream. Then I entered the workforce and was doing quite well for myself, accumulating wealth, cars, motorbikes, you name it, until the fateful night in the Boot Hill Bar in Gillette. I knew it was the voice of Jesus calling me to Himself, but I didn’t know how to respond. I was entrenched in a lifestyle themed on selfishness and indulgence and felt stuck there.
I resorted to picking up my Bible and reading some here and there. About this time, it just so happened that Uncle Scott was holding Bible studies in his home. I began to attend on occasion. I was enthusiastic about what I was learning and shared my thoughts with friends, expressing a desire for something more meaningful in life. My comments were not well-received. I was living a life of hypocrisy, keeping one foot planted in the world while dabbling with one toe in the Water of Life. I danced between the light of God’s love and the world of darkness.
One evening as I sat in my office after a busy day of turning another dollar, tears streamed down my face. It all felt so empty and I prayed for God to take over my life and rescue me from my struggles with worldliness. Shortly thereafter, Pastor Paul Vercio, who also attended my uncle’s studies, stopped by my office and invited me to church. Accepting that invitation anchored me on a path of renewal, out of the darkness and into God’s marvelous light. I chose to leave my lucrative job to work with my uncle in masonry, allowing me to honor the Sabbath.
During this time of surrendering my heart and my choices to God, life took on a whole new dimension. I began to see the world through new eyes—the skies were bluer, the leaves greener, and the birds’ songs felt like they were composed just for me. The contrast between my past darkness and the newfound light and freedom was striking.
I immersed myself in Bible study and prayer. I simply could not get enough of the precious truths I was learning. I loved to share what I was learning and had a burden for my friends and family. Over time, my brother, sisters and both parents embraced Bible truth and were baptized into the Seventh-day Adventist Church.
After a few months of living the new life and getting baptized, Pastor Vercio urged me to study theology at Union College, and a local church
member even offered support. However, something held me back. I continued working with my uncles and eventually started my own masonry business. I felt called to share God in the marketplace, distributing literature to countless clients and contacts. Yet, people often told me, “You missed your calling; you should have been a pastor.” I resisted the idea, thinking of myself only as a construction worker. But the question lingered over the years: Did I ignore God’s calling?
As time passed, I served in various capacities as a lay leader in the church, holding an evangelistic series in South Africa, and stepping in as lay pastor as needed. While I gained significant satisfaction from seeing a building project come together and creating something that will last for a lifetime with my hands, nothing brought me greater joy than playing some part in a soul being set free from the devil’s chains and experiencing deliverance into an abundant life in Christ that lasts forever.
In my twenties, I married and became the father of three. When that marriage ended, I was heartsick over what it meant for my kids. Years later, longing for a soulmate and co-laborer in faith, I prayed earnestly—and God answered by bringing me my true partner and the love of my life.
After Janna and I married and settled in Dickinson, we began receiving calls sporadically to join others in their various ministries. We prayed about each one, and I felt increasing conviction that God was calling me into full-time ministry. When our pastor transitioned to a conference role, and we began praying for whomever God would send to fill his place, I sensed a great desire to be able to serve the Lord and my local church in that capacity. I wrestled with the idea of sharing that desire with the conference. However, my wife and I talked and prayed about it and decided to keep it between us and God.
About a month later, Elder Jason Logan approached us about me becoming the next pastor at Invitation Hill in Dickinson. I exchanged a knowing smile with my wife. Jason asked, “You’ve been praying about this, haven’t you?”
Looking back, I am humbled to see how God has had His hand on me throughout my life, protecting me from untold and unnumbered dangers and from myself, always guiding, leading and loving me. I am thrilled at the opportunity to dedicate my life fully to the mission of delivering God’s last-day message to a hurting world.
Ron and Janna Wright serve together at Invitation Hill in Dickinson, North Dakota, where Janna is the head teacher at Invitation Hill Adventist School and Ron is the newly appointed pastor of Invitation Hill Church.
