Getting My Feet Wet

This year I will celebrate my 20th year of pastoral ministry. A few years ago I began making some notes on my early years in ministry with the thought of writing a book about my adventures. This is the first chapter of that book. I hope you enjoy. Fr. Rick

"Peter answered him and said, 'Lord, if it be thou, bid me to come unto thee on the water.' And He said, 'Come.' (Matthew 14:28-29a)

When I felt called to enter the ministry I had visions of grandeur. I envisioned myself standing behind a large, oak pulpit with a Bible the size of the I.R.S. tax code and a congregation of thousands. I imagined a huge pipe organ pumping out Bach preludes and processionals with dozens of people, banners, and crosses. I could see the nimbus encircling my head as the light of glory shone around me.

What I could not envision was the reality. The reality was the living room of a rented house that was converted into a sanctuary every Sunday. The reality was a wobbly lectern built by my step-father from some scraps of wood found in his workshop. The reality was an electric keyboard purchased by my grandmother and played by my wife. The reality was a 100 watt light bulb hung from the ceiling fan over the makeshift pulpit.

The first church I pastored was made up of a few family members and friends from the neighborhood surrounding Fort Jackson, South Carolina. We named it Faith Community Church. "Faith" because that was definitely what we started on! "Community" because we were located in the heart of the Drexel Lakes community. And "Church" because, even though there were only twelve of us, Jesus said that we qualified by having more than the pre-requisite "two of three gathered" to worship Him.

The adventure lasted almost a year. During that time we had several conversions, several baptisms (held at a neighborhood Baptist church), and a wedding which was held at a local Methodist church to accommodate the crowd. I was also ordained at this church. My father, who was a Baptist minister, the Baptist minister who married my wife and I, and my former police chaplain made up my ordination council. These were the high points of my tenure as pastor of Faith Community Church.

The low points were many. The death of my grandmother, and the subsequent funeral, nearly devastated me both emotionally and spiritually. The lack of money devastated me financially. And because of all of this my family life was less that idealistic. Within a year it was all over. Faith Community Church was no more.

But there was a glimmer of hope over the horizon. A small Southern Methodist congregation just down the street from Faith Church was looking for a pastor. I sent them a resume' and made some phone calls and within a week I met with the pastoral search committee at Enon Southern Methodist Church. A month later I was standing behind the pulpit as I began a new journey at the helm of a new church.