Jesse Hedrick
Hi, My name is Jesse Hedrick, and I am a bi-vocational pastor at a small Baptist church in West Kentucky. I am married to my beautiful wife, Paige Hedrick. I’m so excited that you all have decided to look into Pursue Truth to try and cultivate a deeper, more intimate relationship with God.
I started out as a young man in a youth group. I was under the understanding that I was saved at a younger age. I was in church every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday. I raised my hand at a young age in VBS and had no reason to think I wasn’t saved. I later found out in 2014 that I was, in fact, the furthest thing from truly being born again.
It all began on a chilly October or November night. My youth group had sponsored an in-church youth outing. We had supper, games, praise and worship. No youth outing is complete without the youth pastor bringing a small lesson or message, and this was no exception. After the message, one of the boys there, who was very musically talented, was strumming a guitar and singing an altar call of sorts. God laid it on my heart that night that I was not following after Him the way I should be, and that tore me up. That night I “re-dedicated” my life to Christ. That same year, I preached my first sermon of sorts in a Christmas giveaway our church did for the community. Looking back, I realize I was no more saved before that night than the damsel still tied to the tracks. That was the night I was truly born again into the fold of Christ.
I continued on in life, rolling through the hills and hollers that life had to offer. A Preacher’s Kid (PK), I was the perfect image of what a child should be. (My parents might agree to disagree.) I had good grades, played football and baseball, respected those around me, and stuck up for my younger siblings, of which I have two. After high school (2018), I chose to blaze my own trail and disregard what God had in store for me. After some years, though, I was brought back to where I should’ve been prior. I was living the dream. I had a job, was married, both vehicles were paid off, and had a house. Life was good. Except it wasn’t. I was miserable. I drank every night after work, after supper, and then went to bed. My life was right where I thought it should be, and I was going through the worst part of my working years like everyone else who hit it big did—grind it out. Then a pastor approached me, one whom I hadn’t sat under in some years since my dad had become a pastor. He asked me, “When are you finally gonna stop fighting God and do what He’s called you to do?” Then he proceeded to tell me that I was going to be absolutely miserable in my life until I finally gave it up.
I started out as a young man in a youth group. I was under the understanding that I was saved at a younger age. I was in church every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday. I raised my hand at a young age in VBS and had no reason to think I wasn’t saved. I later found out in 2014 that I was, in fact, the furthest thing from truly being born again.
It all began on a chilly October or November night. My youth group had sponsored an in-church youth outing. We had supper, games, praise and worship. No youth outing is complete without the youth pastor bringing a small lesson or message, and this was no exception. After the message, one of the boys there, who was very musically talented, was strumming a guitar and singing an altar call of sorts. God laid it on my heart that night that I was not following after Him the way I should be, and that tore me up. That night I “re-dedicated” my life to Christ. That same year, I preached my first sermon of sorts in a Christmas giveaway our church did for the community. Looking back, I realize I was no more saved before that night than the damsel still tied to the tracks. That was the night I was truly born again into the fold of Christ.
I continued on in life, rolling through the hills and hollers that life had to offer. A Preacher’s Kid (PK), I was the perfect image of what a child should be. (My parents might agree to disagree.) I had good grades, played football and baseball, respected those around me, and stuck up for my younger siblings, of which I have two. After high school (2018), I chose to blaze my own trail and disregard what God had in store for me. After some years, though, I was brought back to where I should’ve been prior. I was living the dream. I had a job, was married, both vehicles were paid off, and had a house. Life was good. Except it wasn’t. I was miserable. I drank every night after work, after supper, and then went to bed. My life was right where I thought it should be, and I was going through the worst part of my working years like everyone else who hit it big did—grind it out. Then a pastor approached me, one whom I hadn’t sat under in some years since my dad had become a pastor. He asked me, “When are you finally gonna stop fighting God and do what He’s called you to do?” Then he proceeded to tell me that I was going to be absolutely miserable in my life until I finally gave it up.