All of Our Story

Our pain shapes us, but it doesn't define us. Put on your running shoes. Let's get to heaven tired.

I’ve had some people ask if I would share my sermon from July 12, 2026, “All of Our Story.” This is my story of how God has brought me to this point in life. Below you’ll find the video of this message, a transcript, and a link to the pictures shown in it. You can also listen to a podcast of this, as well as a daily devotion, through Apple Podcasts or Spotify.

Below is the transcript of my sermon and a link to see the pictures referenced.

Romans 8:28

Our next reading of Scripture comes from Paul’s Letter to the Romans, chapter 8. We’ll be reading just one verse—Romans 8:28.

“We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

This is the Word of God for the people of God.

Thanks be to God.

Last week I mentioned one of the running jokes in my ministry: whatever passage I just read is usually my favorite passage in the Bible. The truth is, I love Scripture. I genuinely love it. I’m looking forward to resuming our Wednesday Bible studies this fall. I’ll be teaching on Wednesday mornings and Wednesday evenings. Every morning I also record a short online devotional called Rooted. If you’re interested in receiving it by email, there’s information in your bulletin about how to sign up. I simply love God’s Word. I love studying it, teaching it, and learning from it alongside God’s people.

There are certain verses that have shaped my life more than others. Last week I preached from what I would call the lens through which I read the entire Bible: John 3:16. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life.” Whoever. That word has shaped the way I read every other passage in Scripture.

I also have what I call my favorite preaching verse. It’s Romans 2:4: “Do you not know that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?” I love that verse because fear is a terrible motivator for faith. You can scare people for six months, but eventually fear wears off. Being afraid of God isn’t what transforms us. What changes us is discovering the kindness of God. We don’t repent because God threatens us. We repent because God loves us.

But today we’ve come to what are probably the two verses that have become my life verses. Genesis 50:20: “What you intended for evil, God intended for good.” And Romans 8:28: “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose.” Today I want to tell you why those verses mean so much to me. I want to share a little of my story and explain how these verses have shaped my life, my ministry, and, I hope, the ministry we’ll share together.

My full name is Andrew Thomas Stoddard, but everybody calls me Andy. People have asked, “What should we call you?” Andy is just fine. If my mama could call me Andy, you can too. I was even talking with Josie this morning about what the children should call me. It’s funny—you spend your whole life teaching children to say “Yes, sir” and “Yes, ma’am,” and then one day you’re the person they’re saying it to. If they need a title, “Pastor” is perfectly fine.

But here’s the thing. Today I’m Andy Stoddard. I wasn’t always. I brought a picture with me. That chubby little fellow was me. But when that picture was taken, I wasn’t Andrew Thomas Stoddard. I was Andrew Thomas Jones.

My family story is... complicated. Holly suggested I might need a flowchart to explain it, and honestly, she was probably right. So let me introduce a few people. When I say Mama, I’m talking about Maxine Stoddard—my grandmother, who raised me. When I say Daddy, I’m talking about Connie Stoddard, my grandfather. When I say Mama Sarah, I’m talking about my biological mother. And when I mention Charles Jones, I’m referring to my biological father.

I was born in McComb, Mississippi, in April of 1976. Lincoln County and Pike County—that’s where my people are. If you’ve ever met a Woodall or a Beginner from that part of Mississippi, chances are we’re related somehow.

Mama Sarah was a special education teacher in the McComb school system. She married my biological father, Charles Jones. From the outside, life probably looked normal. But it wasn’t. Charles struggled with alcoholism and addiction. Eventually Mama Sarah realized she could not raise me in that environment. She left. She tried one last time to make the marriage work, but it became clear it wasn’t going to happen.

As she walked out the front door carrying me in her arms, Charles shot her in the back. She died protecting me. In one of her final acts, she handed me to her best friend, who drove away while friends hid me around McComb for hours because they feared his family would try to find me. I was two years old. He later pleaded guilty to manslaughter and served fifteen years in prison. I’ve never really known him. In fact, I wouldn’t recognize him if he walked into this sanctuary this morning.

There are details that make the story even harder. Mama Sarah was murdered on April 16th—her mother’s birthday. She was buried on April 18th—my birthday. So birthdays have never really been a big celebration in our family. They’ve always carried a measure of grief.

Now let me tell you a little about the family that raised me. My grandmother, Maxine, was actually living in Ecuador when Mama Sarah was born. She had married a man named Carol Leon, and they spent several years there. Eventually that marriage also became abusive. She returned home to Mississippi with two children, determined to build a better life. She worked during the week in New Orleans while her mother helped raise the children back home. Those were difficult years. But they were years marked by extraordinary strength.

Eventually Mama and Daddy adopted me and raised me as their own. To the world, we probably looked like an ordinary family. But underneath, we carried deep wounds. That tragedy became one of the defining moments of my life. Outside of coming to know Jesus Christ, nothing has shaped me more.

It’s one of the reasons I love being a pastor. I love sitting beside hospital beds. I love praying with families. I love walking with people through grief. Because I understand, at least in part, what suffering feels like. Don’t ever tell me the worst thing can’t happen. It can. But here’s what I also know. God is still good.

I’ve never been a fan of what I call Christian fairy tales. You know the story: Someone becomes a Christian... and suddenly everything works out. They win the football game. They get the promotion. The diagnosis disappears. Sometimes that’s not how life works. Sometimes you follow Jesus... and you still lose the game. You still lose your job. You still bury someone you love. Following Christ doesn’t mean life becomes easy. It means you never have to walk through life alone.

That tragedy shaped me. It made me passionate about forgiveness. It made me realistic about suffering. It also gave me a tremendous sense of urgency. I shouldn’t be standing here. That’s not a metaphor. I literally shouldn’t be here. God spared my life. I’m not going to waste one second He’s given me.

I want to go to heaven tired. So when you come to church... wear your running shoes. Because we’re going to run. We’re going to work. We’re going to serve. We’re going to share the good news of Jesus Christ with Starkville, the Golden Triangle, and wherever God opens doors.

And yes... I’m going to make mistakes. I’m going to say things wrong. I’ll probably get part of the service out of order. But I’ll love you. I’ll work hard. And together we’ll do everything we can to proclaim the grace of Jesus Christ.

Because I believe this. I really believe this. I believe Christ conquered the grave. I believe forgiveness is real. I believe broken lives can be restored. I believe Jesus still changes people. He certainly changed me.

When I was a senior in high school, I was an angry young man. One night I sat in my bedroom and simply prayed, “Lord, I can’t do this anymore. You’re going to have to help me.” And He did. Jesus Christ changed my life. Every Sunday, we’ll offer an invitation because I believe people still need Jesus. He changed me. He can change anyone.

God also used people to shape me. My teachers at Bogue Chitto... my church family at Johnson Chapel United Methodist Church... pastors... Sunday school teachers... people who loved a hurting kid when they didn’t have to. Honestly, I should have become another statistic. Instead, people invested in me. Teachers, thank you. You save lives every day. The church that raised me saved mine.

Then God shaped me through every appointment He gave me. Boyle, Linn, and Linton taught me how to love people. Coy taught me how to fail—and how to be myself. Ripley taught me leadership. Asbury taught me vision. St. Matthew’s taught me how to lead through joy, through conflict, through COVID, through cancer, through grief, through disaffiliation. Looking back now, I believe every single church prepared me for this one. Romans 8:28.

If I hadn’t been raised by my grandparents... I wouldn’t have attended those schools. I wouldn’t have met Holly. I wouldn’t have become a United Methodist. I wouldn’t have served those churches. I wouldn’t be standing here.

Please hear me carefully. Romans 8:28 does not say that all things are good. Some things are evil. Some things are heartbreaking. God does not cause evil. We live in a fallen world. But God is so powerful that He can redeem even what evil intends to destroy. That’s the promise. Our pain shapes us. But it does not define us. The grace of Jesus Christ defines us.

And if you’ll allow me to stop preaching for just a minute and start meddling... it’s been a hard few years. You’ve been through a great deal. I’ve been through some difficult years too. Pain looks different for different people, but pain is still pain.

Here’s what I want you to know. I believe God has not abandoned this church. I believe He has been preparing this church. The world doesn’t need another perfect church. It needs a church redeemed by the blood of Jesus. A church that’s cried. A church that’s struggled. A church that’s learned grace. A church that has discovered that God’s faithfulness is greater than its failures.

Friends, I believe every part of my journey—both the beautiful moments and the painful ones—has brought me here. And I believe every part of your journey has brought you here as well. Now we get to write the next chapter together.

So put on your running shoes. We’ve got work to do. We’ve got a kingdom to build. We’ve got a Savior to proclaim. And I am honored to be your pastor. I cannot wait to see what God is going to do in the days ahead.

“We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.