Saving the World a friend at a time

 

            Less than two years into my new life in the Lord, I sat in a pastor’s office discussing the possibility of creating a new contemporary service. My pastor, Jake Olmstead, and my “worship mentor,” Cathy Brunell, were talking over possibilities. I, outside of the church for 20 plus years, was mostly listening.

All they knew was a tale of my having been in a “church band” decades earlier where we rewrote lyrics to fit the music of popular radio tunes, and we visited churches all over the counties in which I grew up. That was all I knew about, we knew about, contemporary worship.

I believed then, and now, that if the music I could hear on Christian radio would match the music I could hear in church, I would be much more likely to find my way into that church – which was the point of all this, I figured.

Oh, I knew absolutely nothing about how to produce that music. I was in the very beginning of discovery of early contemporary stalwarts like Rich Mullins, Stephen Curtis Chatman, Amy Grant, Clay Crosse, Petra and many, many others. Olmstead and Brunell knew even less than I, and didn’t listen to the station or any like it. Still, they were receptive to whatever I might suggest. I had spoken at something called Laity Sunday the previous October, and as the calendar year sprinted toward Spring, we were talking about creating the new service. They talked to me like I had some idea of what to do. I did not, not really.

            But somewhere in that conversation between two great friends who have passed the River Jordan figuratively since, Cathy mentioned my desire to go into ministry. Brother Jake paused, turned to me as best I can recall, and asked if I really wanted to go into organized ministry, licensed or ordained. I answered, much to my surprise because I truly hadn’t been given that much thought, “Yes, I really do. What would it take?”

            Jake reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a large red book that described the path to “licensed” ministry, as something called a Local Pastor (a term I had not heard of nor knew nothing about).

            And my life changed, again. Soon I was in part-time ministry. Soon I was preaching once a month at the Gretna Contemporary Service. Soon I was singing at that service, solos once a month and praise team each week. Soon and very soon I was leading and planning a worship service.

            I didn’t know where I was headed, I only knew what my heart felt each Sunday evening when the service began. When I stepped up to preach, God filled me with words, ideas, excitement that came from outside myself. I couldn’t even explain that with authority. I just knew what I felt.

            Let Luke describe what the introduction to ministry is like in the Acts of the Apostles. The miracle of Pentecost had just occurred where devout Jews from every nation living in Jerusalem had heard the Apostles speaking in their native tongues.

            Then Peter stepped forward with 11 other apostles and shouted to the crowd, “Listen carefully, all of you, fellow Jews and residents of Jerusalem! Make no mistake about this. These people are not drunk (as some thought).”

            Peter preached. No training. No school. No help. No power point. No idea of what would come next. But he preached, and the Bible says, “Peter’s words pierced their hearts, and they said to him and to the other apostles, ‘Brothers, what should we do?”

            He told them to repent and turn to God and be baptized in the name of Jesus. “Then you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit,” Peter said, again despite having no training other than the confused walk of his with Jesus for three prior years. 

            And “those who believed what Peter said were baptized and added to the church that day – about 3,000 in all.”

            Friends, I have to say I knew nothing about ministry when I went into ministry. I had never heard of the Christian Calendar. I knew nothing of, well, anything. I had never given communion. I had never prayed in public. I had read a bit of scripture in public, but not much. I certainly had not written an entire sermon. I had no master plan about any of this.

 I simply followed the Spirit of God, which led me to teach a Sunday School class, then Bible studies. I began a journal from which the weekly Sunday bulletin would begin to take a piece that we called That’s Life. Eventually, I would write two books about God’s call. I would write 10 years worth of journals. I would start a daily “blog” in 2009 that would lead to more than 25,000 page views.

Someone once asked me what would happen if I ran out of words. I guess I never have. I have absorbed everything I could about God, following his Son’s walk as tenderly as I could, and I guess the most important thing I’ve learned in the 18 years since is that the walk God has called us to take can not be a solo journey.

My dear wife, Mary, my children, my fellows, those in need of help, those in pain, all are ones who God supplies mercy and grace to. God walks with us. God calls us. God equips us.  The journey began in a pastor’s office. It has rolled up mountains of joy and sweet, sweet mercy and down to valleys of doubt and worry. The journey has been one of study and one of prayer. It has been one of the heart and one of the head, and the soul has been catered to, as well.

All those years ago, I simply wanted to quit drinking so I could be a sports editor of a major metropolitan newspaper. That’s all. That’s it. I didn’t go in search of God, certainly didn’t anticipate going into the ministry.

The Psalmist wrote, “I’m thanking you, God, out in the streets,
singing your praises in town and country.
The deeper your love, the higher it goes;
every cloud’s a flag to your faithfulness.
Soar high in the skies, O God!
Cover the whole earth with your glory!
And for the sake of the one you love so much,
reach down and help me—answer me!”

Many of us have found Jehovah, the Father, to be a surprising God, granting us gifts we never asked for, never imagined.

Every cloud has been a flag to his faithfulness, a calendar day to his loving trust.

I never meant this to happen. I never anticipated any of it.

This is the way these things work. In the first few months of sobriety and a new walk with Jesus, in the fall of 1995, I went to a giant book sale at a local Catholic seminary. I don’t know what I was looking for, but what I found was a book called, “Of the Imitation of Christ by Thomas Kempis. I had never heard of it or him, though his work in the 1400s was such that John Wesley was a reader. Kempis was a monk in a Netherlands monastery when he wrote the book.

He “walked with Christ in such intimacy” that the book is a rich inheritance to millions of Christians. It was through this book that I began to understand sacrifice. I talked to a psychologist soon afterwards about healing and happiness. He asked me what I was searching so hard for. I told him happiness. “I want a life where I can be happy. That’s all. Just happy,” I said.

He asked me if I could find a way to settle for peace.

Friends, years have flown by, but what I’ve seen in all of them is that God is walking with me, lifting me, helping me, teaching me, pushing me, pulling me. His direction has always been pure; his gifts have always been sure; his love has never disappointed.

I’ve learned how much I have been accepted by a God who knows my name, sees into my heart.

I’ve learned more than anything, I think, who fits into my churches, the churches I serve. They’ve always been for the hurting, the miserable, the malcontent, the damaged, the sick, the dying. My surprising ministry at surprising churches has always been about having a place where we can cry together, be honest together, seek God together.

From that one day in Gretna to this one day in Eunice, Jesus has healed as well as saved.

My life has become about one thing. It all comes down to a man dying on a cross, saving the world. All. Everything.

FRIENDS
MICHAEL W. SMITH
And friends are friends forever
If the Lord's the Lord of them
And a friend will not say never
'Cause the welcome will not end
Though it's hard to let you go
In the Father's hands we know
That a lifetime's not too long to live as friends.

ELIJAH
RICH MULLINS
This life has shown me how we're mended
And how we're torn
How it's okay to be lonely as long as you're free
Sometimes my ground was stony
And sometimes covered up with thorns
And only You could make it what it had to be
And now that it's done
Well, if they dressed me like a pauper
Or if they dined me like a prince
If they lay me with my fathers
Or if my ashes scatter on the wind
I don't care
When I leave, I want to go out like Elijah

SAVING THE WORLD
CLAY CROSSE
And we complicate the truth
And convolute the story
But as far as I recall I do believe it all
Comes down to a man,
dying on a cross
Saving the world
Rising from the dead
Doing what He said, He would do