I bought a house with my brother

After an entire childhood of being pounded over the head instructed by my mom to “Buy appreciating assets, not depreciating assets,” my brother, David, and I moved out of our parents’ house into our first home.

Though the themes of my life had not yet been fully formed, they were still there, implanted, growing, crystalizing. So, even before I recognized my future of serial starting or community building, I did what came naturally to me—I co-founded a community.

David and I purchased the home in 2003, shortly after I began at ASU. While attending Scottsdale Bible Church (SBC) and actively participating in its college group, he and I recruited a few other roommates from SBC to fill out the home and cover the mortgage. As expected among groups that age, everyone was looking for a place to regularly hang, so our house quickly became the common destination.

But a “house” alone wasn’t enough, in my opinion. We needed to brand it. That’s when we came up with the name—The IZZI. It sounded like…something. When we invited people over, we didn’t invite them to “our house,” we invited them to The IZZI. Even my parents referred to the home by name rather than simply calling it our house.

Of course, a name is only the beginning. Soon, I had a logo drawn up so it was made even more real. Given the fact that this time was before the day of mobile GPS ubiquity, we also designed business cards that had a map and directions on the back. You should have seen people’s faces when they got one.

It didn’t take long before the community grew. After a few months in the place, we decided to start throwing some epic parties (there may have been a house fire once—but I’ll save that story for another time 🔥😳). Hundreds of people would show up. We invited our neighbors. We had bands. Weight lifting competitions took place. Root beer kegs abounded. And. It. Was. Awesome. The parting gift for our party attendees? A brand T-shirt, of course.

Like all good things, The IZZI came to an eventual conclusion. Before Nicole and I married, I started to de-bachelorize the place and make it a home more suited for a young couple than the six guys who once lived there. But for years afterward, as Nicole and I had new guests visit our home, we would still hear their awed whispers, “This used to be the IZZI, right? I heard about this place. Is it true that…?”

Oh, the stories. And yes, all of them were true.