When I was a young boy, church was a significant part of my life. I went to Sunday worship, Sunday school, VacationBibleSchool, Lenten Services, Advent Services, Potlucks, etc. Whenever the church had an activity my family was there. Aside from school, church was where all my friends were. In a small town in Tennessee, as a person who came from a family of basic means the church was a large part of my social life. Other than my grandmother’s home, my friend’s houses during my high school years, it was my other home. In fact, during college, I was the sexton and became quite familiar with the physical working of a church.
In that setting, being at church was as common as eating dinner at home. My father and mother served on various boards and helped when something was needed. I mowed the yard, shoveled snow, picked up trashed, washed dishes, read in church, assisted in worship, sang in the choir, observed my father at church council, etc. I did whatever was needed to be done. In my high school years, I snuck away with a girl at a lock-in and made out in the pulpit.I was quite comfortable, as you can observe, at church.
Somewhere about my junior high years, I began to ponder what it be like to be a minister. I would sit in church and listen in awe at the sermon. I wanted to do that. One Good Friday, when a soprano sang”Were You There” I was swept away with the thought of being in church all my life. I longed to do what my minister did.
In my ninth year of school, our youth group took a trip to Myrtle Beach. It was my longest trip from home that I had ever made up until then. As part of the trip, we were to stop at Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary.Quietly, I kept this yearning to be minister close to my heart. At the front of the seminary, the name of the school is in large letters cut out of stone. While there, I wandered off from the group to go and see the sign. As observed it and in front of it, I vowed that I would return one day. I kept this to myself as well.
Back at home, I ran for president of our Luther League. I became more and more active. Little by little I told people of my desires to be a minister. At a youth service, I got to speak. After the service, an elderly lady in the congregation came up to me and affirmed that I was on the right path. Before I knew it, I was involved on a synodical level, voted to attend the national church gathering, I was flying to Atlanta planning events, speaking with Bishops, hanging with select youth leaders and dropping Trigonometry in high school since I didn’t plan to do the cosign of St. Paul. The cat was out of the bag. I was on my way to be a minister. I was following my inner call.
You might think that “going public”, revealing my secret, the inner call, was easy. Actually it was scary. What would people say?In public, the general public, outside the safe surroundings of the church, amongst friends at school, it wasn’t as easy. In the general public I got questions of all types. I heard every strange story one could conjure up. I had middle aged women tell me their personal lives. People treated me like a religious person. A religious person as they believed a religious person should be. And every time I stepped out of their impressions I was questioned. “You shouldn’t drink alcohol,” they would say. “Why do you have to go to school?” they asked. “I love you, but I don’t want to get close to a minister” she said. This was a new terrain.
In this new arena of pubic ministry, external call, I sharpened my understanding of who I was. I had to so that I could survive. I actually grew closer God as I talked to him more and more exploring what this call was all about. My mind was no longer focused on the internal call but my attention was moved to wondering where God was calling me. Better yet, where was God taking me. Where in the world was I going to end up?
In college, I eased along as a history major in a large university exploring historical questions about life while I attended on a casual base a local school where I sang in the choir. On occasions, the minister would use me to help in various things. But most of my time was at school amongst 40,000 others playing in our minds.
In 1980 I returned to the school sign that I personally vowed to see again in my junior high years. In seminary, the external call reared its head again. Seminary boards, psychologist, bishops, professors, and my internal angst, would all question me. Where did I rank amongst my classmates? Was there a place for me in this church? Would I get through the academic rigors? Would I have enough money to see this to its end? I put my nose to the grindstone and quietly explored my internal and external call. I searched and explored where God was taking me. I feared that I might get left behind.
Today, 25 years later, I am ministering at a church where I was called to when I graduated seminary. Both professionally and personally, I have been exploring for a quarter of a century the question, “Where are you taking me God” I have discovered that the call is a constant. It’s not like you are saved once and for all after seven easy steps. No, God is evolving grace. Following God is letting go of the banister and balancing life in His hands. What I have discovered, is that God is always nearby even when I have lost sight of him. He has gone ahead and planned my next step in life.
I have no idea at all where God is taking me. All that I have come to know is that I would not follow anyone else. I have had my ups and downs. I have many questions and awful fears. I have known anger and I have cried my tears. I have laughed and hurt. And during it all I have grown closer to God and more understanding of others, because they probably have no idea where God is calling them in their lives.
