Bio (If you need one)
Jay McCarl is an author, pastor, chaplain, theologian, historian, musician, artist and tour leader, specializing in eschatology, ancient Near Eastern customs, the Book of Revelation and chaplaincy crisis response. In 1998 he founded Biblical Dinners Ministries, providing unique perspectives on ancient Israel from a Biblical and prophetic standpoint through tours, live presentations, conferences and social media. He has a Masters degree in Chaplaincy Ministry and has served as a senior pastor and law enforcement chaplain for more than thirty years. Jay has been married to his wife Kathee since 1979 and has four children and two grandchildren.
Me
So, here I am: pastor of Calvary Georgetown Divide, serving folks in the Sierra backwoods. I speak a lot, do Biblical Dinners, Galilean Weddings, teach, preach and take groups of people to amazing places. I’m an author, law enforcement chaplain, Bible-lands tour leader, teacher, artist, musician, husband and dad. And though it goes without saying, this is my personal blog—the views expressed here do not necessarily reflect those of CGD, PCLEC or anyone else but me. There you go.
Story
I despised all things having to do with God, Jesus and religion—a 10-year old atheist. My Darwinian indoctrination in grade school had done its work. Then the God-who-wasn’t-there showed up one day, in the form of a classmate wearing a snappy Boy Scout-ish uniform. Whatever organization it was, I wanted in, and my friend arranged a ride to the meeting. It was at a church.
The ‘scout troop’ was turned out to be ‘Royal Rangers’—a christian scouting group—and the church was Pentecostal (to put it mildly). My skin crawled. A man with a flattop haircut entered the bustling room and greeted me warmly—then he turned to the boys and said a terrible thing. “Let’s pray.” And they did—twenty young men stood up and began to wriggle and speak in tongues. Horrified. Someone finally said “amen” and they got down to business—and to my dismay, it was fun—so fun, in fact, that I returned the next week—and the next. And that was when Mr. Flat-top knelt in front of me and asked, “Would you like receive Jesus as your Lord and Savior?” I inexplicably answered, “Why not?” and prayed. The Atheist died.
Two years later my family moved to Southern California, followed by nearly three years of ugly: violent bullies, coerced academic mediocrity (good grades hung a target on me), few friends and no Christians. It wasn’t long before I lapsed into serious doubts about God, reasoning that if God existed He didn’t care about people (the turbulent condition of the world, Vietnam, et al)—or perhaps He just wasn’t there at all and that humanity was consigned to meaningless extinction. So I prayed—and it wasn’t a nice prayer. “God, if you’re there, you’d better prove it, or tomorrow night I’ll kill myself.” I meant it with resolve.
To my astonishment, God showed up the next morning at gym class, in the form of two social rejects.
The next morning started painfully early at school gym class. I was pacing, shivering in my all-white shorts and shirt, prepping for calisthenics. The usual two morning-friends meandered over—like me, both non-athletes and uniformly attired. But rather than indulging the usual small talk, they surrounded me and said, “You need to come to Campus Life tonight.”
I had heard of this club, but wanted nothing to do with it, mistaking it for a coven of jocks and cheerleaders. ‘No’, I replied, and reminded them that I was already in three school clubs and president of two of them—I didn’t need to join another one. Besides, I had other plans that night. My friends persisted. “If we pick you up, will you come?” I really didn’t want to go, but their persistence was annoying and I gave in. “All right—if you pick me up, I’ll go.” I had no idea what I was getting into.
We arrived at the school in the early evening and made our way to one of the multi-purpose rooms. It was already packed with students and laughter—the carrying-on made for a deafening social roar. Then he stepped up to the stage, and the room calmed.
He was big and blonde—he had on an open-collar shirt and dark polyester slacks (rare in hippie-days). Perched on his round face was a pair of thick horned-rim glasses resting over his slightly cross-eyes. He didn’t introduce himself and no one told me his name. The big man immediately launched into a noisy clapping game that I immediately lost, finding myself getting ‘zapped’ as a penalty on the infamous ‘Campus Life Electric Chair’. Ouch. “Welcome to the club,” I thought, “I could be home killing myself right now.”
The big man led two more games and then sat down on the little electrified stool (now disabled) and began to ask ‘discussion’ questions to the group—reasonable and introspective. This caught me off guard—this was a social club, wasn’t it? The students devoured the questions, often giving personal, unguarded answers. What was happening? Where was this going?
I still don’t remember the specific questions asked by the big man that night, but I never forgot his words as he ended the discussion. He said, “In case you haven’t noticed, our topic tonight is hope—and I’m here to tell you that if you don’t have Jesus Christ, you don’t have hope…”
I went numb. God just spoke. He answered my foolish threat. He’s really there. Under my breath in that crowded room, I said, “Okay, God—I’m listening.”
I found out that the big man’s name was Ray Schmautz, former middle linebacker for the Oakland Raiders, student-body president of Talbot Theological Seminary and Campus Life Director at my alma mater, Glen A. Wilson High School. It was also obvious that God was using him and spoke through him—and I needed to know God.
Everything changed over the next few weeks—my priorities, my goals—life itself. I felt the need to pursue this ‘God Who is There’—and at the time, Ray was the key to unlocking Him. I began attending a weekly Bible study he was teaching at a friend’s house, where Ray revealed a Jesus I never saw before. I wanted more. The more I learned about Jesus, the hungrier I got.
I didn’t know Ray well at that time, but he treated me with surprising attention and invited me to a discipleship group that taught the basics of being a Christian. I started to grow. I attended a small, three-day retreat in the desert (led by Ray), where he introduced me to some of his friends—pastor John McArthur (the retreat speaker) and musician Dennis Agajanian. I grew more. A few months later I invited myself to twelve-week discipleship group he was starting for student-leaders (which I wasn’t), and he reluctantly acquiesced to my pleas even though I didn’t fit the profile. By the end of the twelve weeks, I was the only one still attending. He seemed perplexed. I grew more…
A year and a half passed, and there was to be another retreat in the desert—this time Ray was the main speaker, and the topic was the Holy Spirit. Ray was a Talbot-man, which meant he was not a Pentecostal, theologically speaking—and him talking about the Holy Spirit for an entire weekend was unexpected. What occurred late on the second night of the retreat was even more unexpected.
The retreat was in late November—our high desert camp was buffeted by a relentless sandstorm and sub-freezing temperatures. Despite the forbidding conditions, Ray was at his best—his speaking skills and charismatic personality painted an electrifying portrait of the person and work of Holy Spirit. God was again speaking about Himself through this man. Every meeting was a spiritual feast—especially that final evening session. As he concluded, Ray instructed us to observe a ‘discipline of silence’—speaking only to God until breakfast the next morning. “Go outside and spend some time with the Holy Spirit,” he said, “Ask Him to fill you…” And despite the harsh, windy night, we did.
I wandered into the freezing desert a short distance from the camp and prayed just as Ray said. “God, fill me with your Holy Spirit…” He did. I was suddenly on my face in the stinging, blowing sand, unable to stand or speak. God was here—not as a burning in a bush or voice booming out of the freezing darkness—just a deep silence filled with meaning, purpose and affection. I was hearing—knowing—so much in the silence of that incomparable moment. Only God could do something like that. For me, everything changed that night, forever. I felt a call to ministry (which, in my purview, was crazy) and knew with certainty that God was Lord. It was an unanticipated outcome for the student of a Talbot man…
Life changed, and High School became filled with the unexpected: evangelism, discipleship, forgiving bullies and being mentored by men like Ray, the young John McArthur, Dennis Agajanian and Ben Patterson.
After graduation I moved to Huntington Beach, joined Orange County Campus Life staff and pursued degrees in fine arts and astronomy. It was the days of the Jesus Movement and I attended the tent-church, Calvary Chapel of Costa Mesa, where I continued growing under the ministries of Chuck Smith, Greg Laurie, L.E. Romaine and Mike Chaddick—and got busy in their many ministries.
To maintain my habit (food) I became a sail-maker until going full-time with Youth for Christ. In 1979 I married Kathee Alexander and we relocated to northern California to assist at a big church that self-destructed two years later. Following a brief sojourn in San Diego I was offered a position at Calvary Chapel in Auburn, CA where, two years later, we planted a church in the nearby town of Cool, where I’ve pastored ever since. Cool. Really.
The subsequent years have been my most exhilarating, exhausting and fulfilling—I’m breathless and blessed. Along the way, God brought me into close contact with mentors like Gayle Erwin, Ken Needham, Chaplain Mark O’Sullivan, musicians Bob Ayala, Duane Clark and Oden Fong, and a few others I only met from a distance like Os Guinness, Francis Schaeffer, Dr. Jim Fleming and too many others to mention here. He tasked me with Biblical Dinners and Galilean Weddings, which took me to six continents, became books and eventually, movies. I’ve led wilderness stress camps and later, study tours of Israel, Turkey, Jordan and Greece. He introduced me to dear friends in the most unexpected places on earth, and it was all about Jesus, all the time. Who’da thought?
Above all, my love for Jesus continues to grow—He remains everything to me. He forgave my sins and taught me to forgive; He chased me down when I ran and took me down when I got cocky. He cared when I didn’t, stayed faithful when I wasn’t and loved me when I hated. I am His forever.
Maybe He’s chasing you, too. Let Him catch up—He won’t hurt you. He saves.
A friend wrote once wrote,
“You’re on the ride of your life,
Only God knows where you’re headed;
Sit down, hold tight,
You’ll go places you never imagined;
Through the ups and downs, twists and turns,
Trust me,
It’ll be quite a ride…”
It has. Thanks for checking in.
—j
Jay McCarl 
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