From Addict to Pastor to Seminary President — Dave Anderson
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What I’m about to tell you is something I’ve never shared with any of the churches I have pastored. It embarrasses me to talk about it, but it’s all true. By the time I was twelve, I was a full-fledged drug addict. I never got arrested, I never spent time behind bars—probably because my drug was not illegal. I was hooked on winning. You see, when I was born on the day peace was signed in Tokyo Bay ending in World War II (September 2, 1945), they put a picture of me in the local newspaper where we lived in California. I was the longest baby they’ve ever had in that hospital: 24 inches long and just 8 pounds. I was ugly. But I was tall.
I discovered when I was eight I could hit a baseball. It was just a Little League, but I was all-city when I was 9, 10, 11, and when I was 12, they wouldn’t let me play. It wasn’t because I was such a great athlete; I was just bigger, taller, and faster than the kids my age. I found a rush while running around the bases after a home run that I didn’t find anywhere else. I didn’t know about dopamine or endorphins, but I knew it made me feel good. The same thing was happening in other sports: football, basketball, and swimming. Then in the classroom, the same thing. At the end of high school, I was going to go either to Stanford or MIT. Then the principal of our school suggested Rice. Rice? I’ve never heard of Rice. Was it in China? Why, I wanted to know, should I go to Rice if I can go to MIT. The principal said because Rice is free. It’s free for anyone who can get in. Well, Rice only took 90 students from out of the state of Texas, so I didn’t think I’d get in. But when I did, my head was so big, I had to put it in a wheel barrel and roll it to class. If there had been a picture in the yearbook for the most conceited, that would’ve been me.
We had to take a class in the Bible to graduate from the school (The McCallie School in Chattanooga, TN, where Ted Turner says he became a Christin three times in his autobiography They Call Me Ted). I’d never read the Bible before. When we got to the 10 Commandments, I decided to do a 30-day test to prove I could keep from sinning for 30 days. Little did I know what God has in store for me. Needless to say, I failed the test miserably. I got caught necking with my girlfriend on campus—a prep school felony. They sent me home to Nashville to think about it for three days. While lying on the back seat of the bus going up Lookout Mountain, I realized I was a sinaholic. I couldn’t stop sinning even when I tried my best. I said a little prayer: “God, if your Son Jesus really rose from the dead, then He is on this bus somewhere. I need a Savior from all my sins. Please forgive me.” Immediately I was different. During my three days at home all I wanted to do was to read the Bible. That became the first step in God’s Woodshed of Humility. There have been more than I can count since. Much like the men I have met in AA, I consider myself a recovering sinaholic. I still struggle with my addiction to some degree, but God has done a mighty work in my life do use this broken vessel for his glory.
After Rice, I got married and went to Dallas Theological Seminary. Betty and I returned to the Houston area and have helped start ten churches and two schools like the one where I became a Christian in Chattanooga. We also started a fully accredited seminary, which, according to our accreditation agency (ATS) is the only one of their 180 schools that’s going to the world. We offer bachelor degrees, masters, degrees and doctoral degrees to 700 students. We are teaching in 70 countries in eight different languages. It’s as though God raised up a wave, and He’s letting us ride it. All glory goes to Him. I blame my wife and Jesus for anything good in my life. It’s all their fault.
