It was late one night when I was out in my car that I happened upon a station playing Christian music. Christian music in those days wasn't really my thing, but I felt drawn to it on this evening. As I listened, I could tell it was either a live concert event, or a recording of one. The featured artist talked about having cancer and the bleak outlook for his life. He talked about being in pain, right there on the stage, and yet in his voice I could hear not only confidence but joy. He talked about Jesus like a friend, rather than a disappointed parent, which had been my perception of Him. And at the end of his set, the large crowd responded with warm, generous applause. When the announcer returned to the air, he said, "That was Jim Wheeler singing, 'To Live is Christ,' from Taylor University."
That night a desire, actually a conviction, was born in my heart. Maybe one day, would God allow me to be part of Taylor University? When someone would ask from time to time what brought me to Taylor, rather than unpack that story, I simply answered it had been the Lord. I didn't say that because I didn't want to recount that story, but because I understood in my heart that the workings of God are mysterious and beyond our understanding, that He is good, and that He uses sinful, fallen people (like me) to accomplish His purposes in this lost and fallen world.
I worked at Taylor from 1986 until 2023 - first as a photographer, later expanding into the role of media liaison and spokesperson, to editor of the Taylor alumni magazine, and finally, for 10 years, managing Taylor's social media presence. God blessed that work. He blessed it so richly that I made it a point never to take credit for any good thing I did, but instead to thank Him for his leading, blessing, and keeping.
So many incredible memories. Jay Kesler's inauguration. Taylor's sesquicentennial and then dodransbicentennial (175 year) anniversaries. The construction of buildings. Being there for great wins on the field and court for the Trojans. And meeting and interacting with so many men and women who loved Jesus and loved people.
That isn't to say there weren't hard times. The 2006 van accident that claimed the lives of five of our Taylor community members was the saddest and most profoundly difficult experience (outside the deaths of my own parents) I ever encountered. Seeing the Memorial Prayer Chapel even today is a reminder of those hard days, the cries of our Taylor students and faculty, and the overwhelming sorrow we all experienced in 2006.
God was there in all of it, guiding me, blessing the work, occasionally giving me a well-earned kick in the pants, and continually growing His image in my life.
In late 2022, as I increasingly sensed the Lord was closing the door on that period of my life, I recognized, perhaps after some wailing and gnashing of teeth, that God was every bit as in control then as He had been all along. So when I advised my coworkers at Taylor that I had decided to retire, it was with joy and acceptance, even if there were some tears. Change is hard. I wasn't driving from my home in Muncie to the campus five, sometimes six days a week. Yet my love for Taylor and belief in its mission, its students, faculty, staff, administration, and Board of Trustees remained. If anything, it strengthened. I still came to ball games to shoot photos. Taylor still needed my institutional knowledge and I was happy to help in that regard. And there were still times that Taylor invited me back to photograph a special event or two. So in the fall of 2025, when Dr. Alan Blanchard asked if I would return to Taylor in a more official capacity to teach a photojournalism class as an adjunct, I did pray about it and think about it before saying yes, but in my heart, I sensed my love for Taylor was every bit as strong and so it was a relatively easy decision.
Being able to regularly interact with Taylor students, reconnect with dozens of people whom I have come to know, respect, and love, and teaching in the new Horne Center has been a greater blessing than I could have imagined. Whether God will have me in this role for a longer or shorter time I cannot tell. But I do know He has me here now. Again. And that is good. In the words of Psalm 16, "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places."
