Supreme Ambition Ministries

MY JOURNEY 14

Did I mention that Kathi and I have wonderful Children and grandchildren?  Yeah!  I thought I did.  It is seldom overkill to mention something a few times, especially when one is speaking fact.  One proof among many was when our daughter, Stacye, and her husband, Fernando, took us to Spain.  You see, Fernando is from Spain.  He came to the United States as an exchange student his junior year in high school.  He played basketball and played for the state championship in West Virginia.  Later, Marshall University gave him a scholarship and he stayed in the States to go to school.  It was while he attended Marshall that Stacye met him.  They married a few years later and, have given us two wonderfully, spirited young boys of whom we are very proud.

Periodically, Fernando goes to Spain to visit his parents, sister, and brother.  A few years ago he invited Kathi and me to go along.  It had been a dream of Kathi’s, since she was in high school, to see Spain with a native.  Kathi majored in Spanish in College, and has retained a deep love for the country to this day.  We had hoped to use some inheritance to finance the trip, but circumstances were such that we could not.  One day in the spring of 2003 I spoke with Stacye on the phone and told her we would not be able to go.  I assured her, when the money was available we would put some back for the trip.  She was disappointed, but very understanding.  In just a few hours she called back and said she had spoken to Fernando.  He said, “Stacye, the only way your parents aren’t going to Spain with us is if the Lord tells your Dad not to go.”  He continued, “I had intended to pay for everything anyway.”  How excited do you think we were?  From the time Kathi was 16 years old she had an ‘impossible dream’ to go to see Spain with a native.  How just like Jesus it was to allow her to see this beloved land with a beloved Native, our son-in-law.  A bonus for us was that we were not to be merely tourists, but rather, guests of Fernando’s family in their home about an hour and a half north of Madrid in the little village of Pozaldez (400 people). (Below is the train station in Pozaldez). Fernando’s father is the mayor, and we got to see his installation service.  Spain is a beautiful country with a rich history in culture, arts, religion, and culinary delights.

It seemed there was a castle on nearly every hill.  Seriously, almost everywhere we looked there were reminders of ages long ago.  From ancient ruins, outdoor markets and cafes, to walled cities, evidence of civilizations from the past rose from the fertile plains and virtually begged to be explored.  Fortunately, we had a few days to skim the surface of this precious adventure.  Interestingly, some of the most enduring memories for me were the smells and sounds.  One day a shepherd and his sheep wandered by our home (Kathi loves sheep, and she squealed as we ran outside and struck up a conversation with the Shepherd).  All the while we were being kept at bay by a very protective Border collie.  Walking the quaint, old, brick streets, and hearing the echoes of voices along the narrow corridors of the hamlets and villages caused me to pause and wonder, if I might have heard the ‘clacking’ of horses’ hoofs as a Roman platoon made its way toward me.  Perhaps the most delightful of all were the many unique aromas that stirred our senses as we passed by the outdoor cafes and bakeries.

As you can see, I can have quite an imagination.  That might be expected, since I think I have a little Don Quiote in my blood.  For those of you who don’t know, Don Quote is the valiant fighter of windmills from the great classic by the same name, and written by Miguel Cervantes.  The story was made into the long-running Broadway musical, “The Man of La Mancha”.  The song made famous by that musical is “The Impossible Dream”.  Kathi and I had that song at our wedding.  I keep the lyrics taped inside the front flap of my Bible.

To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe,

To bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go,

To right the unrightable wrong, to love pure and chaste from afar,

to try when your arms are too weary to reach the unreachable star.

This is my quest to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far.

To fight for the right without question or pause, to be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause.

And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest, that my heart will lie peaceful and calm, when I’m laid to my rest.

And the world will be better for this, that one man scorned and covered with scars,

Still strove with his last ounce of courage, to reach the unreachable stars. 

I mention this song because of a beautiful gift from our Lord while we journeyed through Spain.  We took an overnight trip to the beautiful walled city of Avila, where St. Teresa had intimate communion with Christ.  We traversed the entire city wall and then paused to do some shopping.  I found two silver-plated statues of Don Quiote and Sancho Panza (The former’s Squire).  With some encouragement from our daughter and my wife, I purchased them and they provide inspiration for me as they sit in my office today.  We walked from the shop to an old restaurant for the evening meal.  This place was really old, dating back to about 1200-1300 A.D.  It was a part of the wall of the city.  When we walked in we were greeted and seated.  No sooner had we been seated than over their music system was played the “Impossible Dream”.  I was in tears, along with Kathi and Stacye.  Fernando got in on the joy as well.  He exclaimed very excitedly, “You just bought the Quiote!”  All of us knew that we had just been a part of a “God thing”.

                I have had a dream from my college days that the Church would return to Christ the same kind of passion he has shown for us.  I have gone against the tide of ‘Churchianity’, found both in some dead orthodoxy and some fanatical spirituality.  I have issued the clarion call and challenged Christians to know the joy of intimacy with a living Lord in the corporate setting of a connected Church.  I have stood my ground against a progressive spirituality, which tends to leave solid Biblical teaching by the side of the road.  I have pressed past the entrenched carnal attitudes of the “Seven last words of the Church (We never did it that way before).  I have tried to be willing to march into hell for the heavenly cause.  I have been beaten, battered, and broken.  My dream…well, it’s still out there on the horizon somewhere.  Often I have been tempted to quit, saying, “What’s the use?”  However, I know my dream may seem impossible, but with God…all things are possible.  So…though my foe seems unbeatable, and my sorrow often seems unbearable…My scars are too deep, and the star is… well…just too far away.  However, I join the vision of the Lord of La Mancha…and say to my squire, “Sancho, My sword!  My shield!  There are yet more adventures before I rest.  Why do I continue on?  HE IS THE GOD OF THE IMPOSSIBLE!

November 3rd, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | one comment

MY JOURNEY 13

Some people are good ’starters’, but poor ‘finishers’.  They, like the proverbial Hare, start out very fast but soon run out of enthusiasm.  There endurance level is somewhat lacking.  God has a purpose and reason for each person both in the here and the hereafter.  For the follower of Christ our chief desire is to Complete the Mission to which we have been called.  Of course, the ultimate fulfillment is to live our lives in such a way that God receives the glory for all we accomplish in this life.  There are, however, ‘missions’ along the way to our Mission.  In my life I have had many ‘missions’.  My prayer is that they add up to the fulfillment of the Mission to which he has called me.

One such mission took place in August of 1997.  Being a Regional Representative for Hand to the Plow Ministries, Inc., I have had numerous occasions to minister with the brothers and sisters in the land of Haiti.  Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  It is known now as a Fourth-World Country.  Through the years our ministry has had the privilege of preaching the gospel, providing food, clothing, clean water, building churches, and giving gifts at Christmas to thousands of children.  Haiti is a nation, whose culture is polluted with Voo Doo.  It is even recognized as the State Religion.  Voo Doo, being a part of the culture, has stretched her tentacles into most households, social organizations, and even into the Church.  The ’spiritual darkness‘ associated with this demonic influence has  almost choked the life out of the people.  Six out of every ten children die by the age of five or six.  The average life-span is forty-five.  Economically, socially, and politically Haitians have no hope of their situation ever being better.

Prior to the trip we felt there might be a few places we would go in the country to pray, but one such place was on top of one of Haiti’s mountains in a little village called Cha Cha (Sha Sha).  This village is 4000 feet up on the mountain.  The only way to get there is by foot.  It is absolutely one of the most difficult trips I have ever taken.  We left the mission compound about 4:30 a.m. and travelled for a couple of hours to the base of the mountain.  We began our asscent at about 7:00 a.m.  It took us 4 hours to climb.  Did I mention we were in Haiti?….in August?  Man!  Was it hot!  By the time we reached the village at the top of Cha Cha, I don’t know about the rest of the group but my ‘transmission’ was draggin’ the ground.  We found the porch of the little Church we had built some years before and we each layed down to rest and ended up falling asleep for a couple of hours.  When we awoke, I felt like I had been hit by a Mack truck, and the last thing on my mind was praying…for Haiti…or anybody.  That’s not quite true.  I had one prayer request.  I was asking Jesus how he was going to get me back down that mountain.  Yeah…back down…We had to get back down and then drive two hours back to the Mission House.  The ladies had fixed us some peanut butter sandwiches and lemonade.  We thankfully ate, and I remember sitting inside that little Haitian Church muttering, “Jesus, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to participate in this prayer meeting.  I don’t even know, if Ican walk back down the mountain”

Suddenly,  One of the brothers from the back of the room began to sing, “I  bowed on my knees and cried ‘holy…”  Friend, I cannot explain what happened to me and to the others, but the power and presence of the Holy Spirit came into that Church through our brother’s obedience to sing.  Each of us was strengthened by his mighty hand.  For the next 2 1/2 to 3 hours we were lost in the wonder of his Presence.  It was on that day that my definition of prayer changed.  We sang, we rejoiced, we worshipped…but not once did anyone bow his/her head and pray a traditional prayer.  We were in precious communion with our Lord and with one another., and ‘prayer as ususal just simply would not work.  Somewhere during this glorious time each of us sensed the Lord speaking to us.  And what was his word to us?   He said, ‘ALL I EVER WANTED YOU TO DO WAS LOVE ME.’  We have made Christianity so complicated.  It is really very simple, so simple that a child can do it.

October 13th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 3 comments

MY JOURNEY 12

THREE ANGELS AND A LESSON IN FAITH

I mentioned previously that the Lord led us to begin again with a Church in our home, and we made the glorious discovery that we were… home.  I suppose not everyone is cut out for an expression of Church as a living-room full of people.  But, it seemed to work especially well for us.  It sort of felt like coming home after a hard day at the office with a lot of stress, and being able to slip into those favorite pajamas.  You know the ones.  They are just a little too big, but they feel ohhhh sooo good!  Yeah…well…anyway, you know what I mean.  Through the many years of ministry up to this point, it was as though I was searching for a more pure form of expression for the Church, the Bride of Christ.  Somehow, sitting in a building, lined up in rows, and staring at the back of people’s heads had never been my idea of Church, and I’m not sure it is what Jesus had in mind either.  Come on!  Do you really think Jesus got all excited and virtually salivated at Caesarea Philippi, during Peter’s great confession, because his Church would be housed in multi-million dollar edifices, and be promoting live-streaming conferences on ‘how to be happier in five easy lessons’?  As I have reviewed the most sacred moments of my walk with Christ in the last forty years, the times, when I have sensed the Presence most have been those, where the programming has been kept to the minimum, and people have been allowed to express their passion for God.  Now that is not to say that a spiritual free-for-all is the answer either.  I’ve been in those kinds of meetings as well..and…trust me…they ain’t fun neither.  In fact, I have had the most spiritually, meaningful experiences of my life in, what some might think, polar opposite venues, a mountain-top in Haiti and an Episcopal Church.  The key was then, and always will be the Presence of God in the midst.  But…I digress.

Once Kathi and I determined we were going to start all over and try to get to know our Lord we needed a frame of reference.  While living in Sarasota, and during the last year there, we were privileged to attend a gathering of believers outside of the city.  They had taken the name, THE CHURCH AT THE BARN.  They now actually meet in a ‘barn’…well…it’s a pretty sophisticated barn, but a barn nonetheless.  However, prior to the building of the barn, they met in the living-room of our friend, Steve Coder.  It was while attending a number of these services that I was arrested by the beauty, and power in simplicity.  I recall one time specifically, sitting in that living-room with about 30-40 brothers and sisters in Christ.  We sat around the wall in a circle with the younger children sitting ‘crisscross-applesauce’.  Get the picture?  Suddenly, Steve called on a twelve-year-old boy to sing.  He stood and sang acapella a song I had never heard about how much he loved Jesus.  The tears streamed down his cheeks as he sang.  That was great, but then I looked around the room and saw a little four-year old girl looking intently at this young man singing with tears running down her cheeks.  Once the song was complete Steve said he felt someone needed to respond to this song in prayer.  The same four-year-old girl began to pray in a most powerful way.  I had never heard most adults pray with as much conviction and knowledge of Christ.  At that point I remember thinking that Steve was sitting on a gold mine of true spirituality.  I recalled the words of Dr. Francis Schaffer, when he defined ‘True Spirituality as being perfectly content at any given moment and always thanking God…’ 

We carried this dream in our hearts as we began to meet in our home.  This period of our lives was to last nearly 3 ½ years. but the residual effects continue to influence us today.  It remains to this day the most rewarding type of ministry we have ever done.  It also was to be one of the greatest times of testing and lessons on faith we have ever had.  You see, our congregation consisted of our three children and their families (thanks kids, so much, for your love and support), and a small handful of other seeking, saints.  Unfortunately, there was not enough finance coming in to support us.  During this transition time Steve Coder had asked me to be on the Board of Hand to the Plow Ministries, which is a para-church, missions work, specifically started to minister to the needs of the suffering people of Haiti.  Now, Hand to the Plow is ministering in numerous places throughout the world.  Additionally, Steve asked, if I would be a Regional Representative for the ministry, which I did.  I was excited to be a part of this ministry, and it has been some of the most personally rewarding ministry I have done.  Because of this mission work, I sent out letters to friends, family, and churches asking for financial support.  Although for those 3 ½ years,  we did not have a regular salary, the Lord marvelously provided for us, and we were never late with one bill, and even paid our rent in advance most of the time. 

There were times, however, when, we would come right down to the ‘wire’, so to speak, and God would make us trust him for his provision.  On one such occasion, I was very concerned about having adequate finance for our needs.  I was praying one morning about it, and the Lord spoke to me through my daily journaling and said, ‘I know you are worried about the money to pay your bills.  Don’t!   I have sent three angels, and that will be enough.’  I closed my journal and tried to rest in the security of his promise.  Later that same day a single mother stopped by our house, unexpectedly, and handed us several dollars.  She said the Lord told her to give us the money.  In the afternoon a friend came to help Kathi wallpaper the bathroom and said that she and her husband felt led to give us some money.  That same evening I received an email from Steve Coder, and at the end he said, ‘Oh, by the way, we took up an offering for you and Kathi Sunday and we’re sending you a check for 342.00.”  The Lord said we were not to worry.  He had sent three angels and that would be enough.  It was enough.  All bills were paid and our faith was filled to the brim.  He doesn’t always answer so miraculously, but he did that time, and that experience, along with the promises in his word, have become the foundation for a deeper faith in a loving, caring, providing God.

STAY TUNED…

September 18th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 2 comments

MY JOURNEY 11

I really never thought we were homeless at the time and I guess in some sense we weren’t, but the reality was for a few months we did not have a place to call ‘home’.  We, however, were so deeply intrenched in the adventure of getting to know our Lord that we did not think much about ‘home’ for a while.  Hiding under the surface of every mile we travelled, though,  was a longing for home.  Home is that place where one feels secure, safe, and a place from which one launches out to discover new ‘lands’ and ‘vistas’.   It is also a place to where one can retreat, if the winds and the waves of life’s sea become too boisterous to walk upon.

After our two weeks in Saint Louis we went to Millerstown, Kentucky, population 32 (and that’s everybody plus some pets).  There’s not much there except a Christian radio station (WJCR), and Don and Gerri Powell.  From that hilltop in southcentral Kentucky they literally broadcast the gospel all over the world.  Don is the brother of Gary Powell from Ormond Beach, FL.  He had asked me to come preach an Indoor Campmeeting for him.  We had a glorious time together.  Don has since gone on to be with the Lord, but his son, Donnie, Jr. is carrying on the work his father started.

September 8th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 3 comments

MY JOURNEY 10

OASIS IN THE DESERT!

It was a beautiful but cool day in central Georgia that November morning, when the three of us left Warner Robbins to take our trek south to Ormond Beach.  Even in Georgia the smell of Fall was in the air, and as strange as it may sound that smell brought hope to my heart.  Little did we know what awaited us in the next months and how much our faith was to be put to the test.  On the other hand ,illuding our imagination or fondest  thoughts, was the treasure which was immediately ahead of us at a little spiritual, watering hole called Oasis Christ Fellowship.  Arising out of the desert of their own lives, Pastor Gary and Beverly Powell had birthed a body of people with a vision to help wounded Christians from all walks of life.  Their burden was then and remains today simply to give a ‘cup of cold water in Christ’s name’.  Rolling into Central Florida that day were three (3) parched and dry pilgrims in desperate need of an oasis.  We had come to help them for a few weeks.  However, in the precious plan of an omniscient God, we were the ones to be the primary beneficiaries of something called, HELP. 

Seldom in our lives have we been loved and appreciated as we were those eight (8) weeks at Oasis Christ Fellowship.  We made friends to whom we are still close today. Names such as  Luke, Hill, Davis, O’Connor are only a few among many, whose memory we hold dear in our hearts.

Well, all too quickly, our time at Oasis was completed.  The salary stopped.  Oasis kept us on for two additional weeks, but once again…we had no place to go.  Gary wanted us to stay at Oasis, though they had no salary to offer us.  I could have gotten a job teaching and we could have made a good home there, but the call upon me to ‘know him’ and preach his unsearchable riches  was strong, and seemed to urge me onward.  Finally, we got a call from a pastor in St. Louis, MO., who was going on vacation for two weeks and asked, if I would come and stay in his home and tend his flock, while he was away. Since we had no where else to go and the door seemed to be open, we loaded our car to the brim and started for St. Louis. I think we surely must have looked a little like the Clampets.  Not really, I suppose, but it sure seemed like it.  The difference was the Clampets had a home to go to. I guess…well…we were now officially ‘homeless’…  We will never forget our Oasis in the Desert!

September 4th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 4 comments

MY JOURNEY 9

Living by faith is a term easily tossed around by us evangelicals.  But, in my limited experience, faith is only a word until you have to put it into practice.  Kathi and I had received word from God, “Get up! Go Away! This is not your resting place!  Now, what were we to do?  We humans like to have our spiritual ducks lined up  in a row, but in the life of faith it seems God is all about ‘leaning not to your own understanding’.

I was anticipating word from the ‘man of God’ and my former Senior Pastor from WV.  That Senior Pastor had hinted that he had talked to the ‘man of God’ and apparently the Lord had confirmed there was a Church looking for a pastor, where my gifts and calling would be a good fit.  There was an interim pastor in that position, however, and he needed to be consulted, before any final decision was made.  Woops!  There go the ducks again!  This time tragedy struck.  It seems my dear ‘Senior Pastor’ from WV had a serious moral failing and had suddenly left town.  Of course, the main concern was for him, his family and the precious congregation in WV, all who were reeling from such a devastating blow.  But, as the old saying goes, “…Here I stand in the moonlight abandoned by women and men, saying over and over, ‘I’ll never eat onions again’.”  Now I, too, am really in a fix.  No one is either available or interested in seeing I get to a place of ministry, and I’ve got less than (60) days before I need to leave and go…well…somewhere.  Can you ladies imagine what my wife was going through at this point?  To her credit she was stalwart and resolute in faith that we follow our new-found, desire  to ‘know Christ and to make him known’.

On Sept. 12, 1995 Kathi, Nathan and I sent the truck with our furniture on ahead of us to Warner Robbins and we spent a couple of days visiting with Steve and Linda Coder.  We had rented an apartment in Warner Robbins.  It was on the second floor.  When we arrived, I opened the door and our things were literally stacked ‘floor to ceiling’.  I have not been one to get easily depressed, but folks, I was depressed  Most of the rooms looked the same way.  I did not say a word.  Kathi started hanging pictures.   Did I mention she is a nester?  I moved some boxes out of my way till I could find my easy chair.  I sat down, closed my eyes and began to pray.  I said, ‘Jesus, how long am I going to be here’?  I prayed for a while and to my surprise my precious Savior spoke to me.  He told me Iwould be there for about 6-8 weeks.

August 28th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 3 comments

MY JOURNEY 8

 On March 3, 1993 Kathi and I arrived in Sarasota, Florida.  It was a big move for us.  We left all three of our children in West Virginia: Chad and Stacye were in college and Nathan was completing his sophmore year in high school.  We hated to leave our children , but off we went into what we thought was obedience to God.  We had been told by two men we respected deeply that it was God’s will.  At the time there seemed to be no choice.

The following Monday morning I was met by a barage of upset mothers.  May I tell you that I hope I never have to face such a situation again in my life.  What I went through that day was way above my pay-grade.  I had to remind myself of the words of the Apostle Paul in Romans 8:28 ,“God causes all things to work together for good to them that love the Lord…”  Some of those dear ladies were concerned that I might actually be a child-molester, and they let me know so in no uncertain terms.  After trying to soothe their frayed nerves  and after a couple of hours, I looked at one of those distraught mothers and said, “You know, M’am  I know I’m a good guy, but I realize you don’t have a clue about who or what I am.  If I were in your position, I would feel the same way.”  When I spoke those words, all the worry and concern left her face.  She decided to leave her child in our center and she became a faithful supporter of our program.

I called my Senior Pastor from West Virginia, who had told me it was God’s will for me to go to this Church and shared with him our dilemma.  He said he would talk to the ‘man of God’ about the situation.  Alas!  I heard nothing from either of them for weeks.  Kathi and I began to ask Jesus what we were to do.  We were both broken and disillusioned.  We had done our best for twenty-five years to submit ourselves and be servants and it appeared no one cared.    We thought the minister we served in West Virginia and the ‘man of God’ were two of the greatest on the earth.  We put everything on the ‘back burner’ just to have the privilege of serving them.  I missed my children’s childhood, in great part ,because, I spent so many hours (60+/wk) for 16 years serving ‘my men of God’.  My health was in jeopardy. Driven to near dispair, I was sitting in our home in April, 1995, having been in this present predicament for two years.  Suddlenly, I looked at Kathi and said, ‘Honey, we’ve both got college degrees, and I have a Master of Divinity, but none of it means anything.  Could we just start all over and try to get to know God’?  She quickly responded in the affirmative.  After 26 years we just started as if we were new converts and tried to get to know Jesus intimately.

Some months prior to this I had met a servant of Jesus, Steve Coder.  He is the President of Hand to the Plow Ministries and the Senior Elder in a fellowship outside Sarasota called, The Church at the Barn.  From the moment Steve and I met it was as though our hearts were knit together in an unusual way.  We discovered we had a similar view of the Church as the Bride of Christ. Steve, Linda, Kathi and I began to fellowship together.  Since 1996 I have travelled with Steve to Haiti and to New York City after 9-11 on mission trips.  I mention Steve at this point because he was to be used of the Lord to help us find direction in our life.

August 26th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 3 comments

MY JOURNEY 7

A GIFT IN A BROWN, PAPER-BAG!

As a young child one of my favorite things was a picnic.  For the kids in our community a picnic consisted in whatever our mothers put in a brown paper bag.  One of the most exciting parts about the picnic was opening the bag to see what was in it.  More often than not I was delighted with the sandwich, chips, and dessert that my mother provided.  However, there were those occasions when what I found in my brown, paper-bag was less than appealing, perhaps due to the fact that one or more of my friends had something lots better than I had.  It was then that the bartering began.  I would talk, manipulate and trade till I got just what I wanted.  Truth be told, what I ended up with was probably no better than what I started out with, but the joy was in the thrill of the chase…Know what I mean?  Forrest Gump summed it up fairly well.  “Momma says, ‘life is like a box of chawclits’.  You never know what you’re gonna’ get.”

The next sixteen years of our life were to be just that.  I think I failed to mention in the previous blog, when we left Racine First Baptist Church, we had nowhere to go.  I mean nowhere, folks.  I was a 29 year old preacher with a wife and three (3) young children had been branded within the American Baptist Convention as a man with ‘doctrinal difficulties’ and I had no prospects for the future.  There was a non-denominational Church about an hour from where we lived.  We had met the pastor at series of special meetings he was having at his church, and I had travelled to Israel with him a few weeks previously.  I trusted him as a brother in Christ and called to pray with him concerning direction for our life.  He thought I was desirous of a position in his Church.  I really wasn’t.  I just needed some spiritual guidance.  During our conversation he said, “Dave, you bring Kathi and the children and we’ll put a roof over your head and food in your stomach.”  Thank you, Brother!

And so…the ‘picnic’ began, and I began to open my bag.  The first few items I had in the bag were really good and made me want more. The church provided us with a two-bedroom trailer and a small salary initially and I began to help with whatever needed to be done: ministry, construction, etc.  Within a few months it seemed good to the pastor and to our family that we become a permanent addition to the staff of this successful church.  I and another pastor became youth pastors.  The church had a vibrant youth group with a number of them really excited to follow Jesus.  Our youth meetings consisted of playing together for one hour and then having a time of worship together in which one of the two of us leaders preached to and challenged these kids to a closer walk with God.  A great number of those youth are continuing their quest as adults to follow the Lord Jesus, and have led their children to do the same.  PTL!

As I have alluded to, the emphasis of this church and her ministry was following Jesus.  An emphasis was placed upon obedience to God that is missing is many churches today.  The Sermon on the Mount is concluded by our Lord with a parable concerning the proper place to build a house.  His conclusion is that for a house to withstand the bombardment of the elements it must be built on a solid foundation.  Jesus’ own application to this parable indicated that the wise man is one who ‘hears these words of mine and DOES them’.  Apparently, Jesus saw the importance of obedience to God.  Unfortunately, preaching a steady diet of obedience without also preaching the balance of a passionate relationship with Christ lends itself to the creation of people who are vulnerable to legalism.  As you might conclude that is exactly what happened.  A visiting minister with whom we travelled and, who came to our church frequently, even did a missionary tour of churches he had helped establish, preaching on the carnal nature.  Somehow he came up with 200 to 300 characteristics of the carnal nature.  By the time he got through that preaching assignment even the Baptists were losing their salvation.  LOL!  The picnic was starting to go south and some of the food did not taste very good.  But, you know, once you have tasted something good you are willing to move some moldy bread aside to get back to the good stuff.  I kept eating.

The message on obedience to Christ degenerated into the importance of following the ‘man of God’.  In our movement we were associated with a very precious and gifted man of God.  The senior ministers of our churches gladly submitted to and obeyed this man, because he exhibited a unique love that could only come from God.  Unfortunately, the senior ministers began to desire the people under them to be as faithful to them as they were to the ‘man of God’.  This led to a misguided messianic complex among the churches, and an inflated view of who we were compared to others within Christ’s church.  Before long the unspoken version of truth was that our ‘man of God’ was the greatest of all, and we needed to sacrifice everything for his calling and ministry.

There were numbers of people committed to this cause, and I was one.  I have always tried to be a 100% kind-of-a guy.  If I am into something, I’m into it lock, stock and barrel.  What could be greater than to be a part of an end-time ministry?  So, I was whole-hearted in my effort.   The ministry became the most important thing in my life.  It was more important than my wife or my children.  Don’t get me wrong?  I loved them, but I thought the best thing I could do for them was to serve my ‘man of God’.  And serve I did!  Following is a partial list of the jobs I had concurrently for 16 years at that Church: Associate Pastor, Christian Education Director, Day Care and Pre-School Director, Athletic Director in a Christian School (K-12), Vice Principal, Bible Teacher, Physical Education Teacher, Basketball and Track coach, Pastor of a Sunday School Class of about 60 people, Visitation Leader two nights each week.  In addition to that I was one who stood ready 24/7/365 for any and all personal help the senior pastor needed.  As you might imagine, those 16 years took quite a toll on my health and my family.  Even writing about it makes me really tired.  During those years it was not uncommon for me to work nearly 60 hours per week.

Not all of our experience there was negative.  Our children were able to grow up there and have a place they can think of as home.  We have many friends both in and out of the church that are treasured.  We had some wonderfully, anointed spiritual experiences and were exposed to some of the greatest in Christian and classical music.  Being there was not a ‘picnic’…or maybe it was.  It’s just that…well…I didn’t know all  that  was in the brown, paper-bag. 

By this time the desire for preaching and discipleship was welling up within me.  I felt the desire to…as we preachers say…‘get back in the pulpit’.  I remember one day saying, ‘Jesus get me out of here’!   It wasn’t long after that when I was sitting in my office and I received a phone call from a pastor in Sarasota, Florida.  He asked if I had ever considered leaving the ministry in West Virginia.  I told him I had not seriously considered it.  He asked for permission to speak with the senior pastor and the ‘man of God’ about me coming to Sarasota to assist him and then to take over as pastor, since he wanted to retire.  This was in October, 1992.  I did not hear another word from anyone until around the middle of December of that same year.  It was a Sunday afternoon.  Kathi, the children and I had just returned home from seeing a presentation of The Nutcracker Suite.  We had gotten home just in time to get ready for the Sunday evening service.  The door bell rang.  It was one of the associate pastors and right behind him was the senior pastor.  When I saw them, I knew.  The senior pastor said, to the children, “Well children.  I guess we better tell your parents they are going to Florida.”  As I said, I knew immediately what was going on.  Kathi didn’t have a clue, nor did the children.  I had not told them about the phone call from the pastor from Sarasota.  Kathi was shocked.  At first she thought we were going for vacation and she was excited.  However, it was soon apparent to her that such was not the case.  The pastor then clarified that we were moving to Florida to become an associate and then later become senior pastor.  Kathi’s face turned white as a sheet.  I thought she was going to die…Truly…I thought my wife was dying right before my eyes.  Then more quickly than I can tell you, she jumped up off the couch and ran over and stood in front of that senior pastor and said, “Pastor, I’ve been praying right here on this couch for years and I’m ready to go.”  I think I mentioned before that I can never figure her out. Smile!

 On March 1, 1993 Kathi and I pulled away from a 16 year ‘picnic’ and a gift in a brown, paper-bag.  We were scared, scarred, and glassy-eyed…but off we went….in obedience.  Little did we know that the ‘School of Brokenness’ had yet another picnic and another gift for us. *

STILL MORE TO COME…Hope you’re not weary…

August 20th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 4 comments

My JOURNEY 6

GOD’S GIFT FROM THE MOUNTAIN

We were very content in Fairmont.  We had a nice home, two precious young children, a congregation with some vision and opportunity to do something significant in Christ’s vineyard.  Interestingly, I had been given the assignment of finding a camp where our regional Southern Baptist churches youth groups could have a retreat for the spring of 1974.  Unfortunately, all the camps in northern West Virginia were booked and the only one I could find was near Charleston, which was some distance away.  Since we were going to be near the church of our mentor, Dr. Daniel Light, I thought it might be good, if we featured their fine youth choir.  I called Dan to speak with him about it and in the course of the conversation he mentioned there was a Church in Racine, WV which was looking for a pastor.  Apparently their pastor had left for another Church.  Dan said the previous pastor was a graduate of Southwestern Baptist Seminary and they liked him so well they wanted another Southwestern man.  Dan asked if I would be interested.  I explained I had only been in Fairmont less than a year, and I really wanted to stay there.  My desire was for a ministry of longevity.  He said, it was the Church in which he had been ordained to ministry and that his wife, Jenny’s relatives were in the Church.  He asked if I would at least pray about it?  I said, “Well, I can at least pray about it.” 

The arrangements were made for the retreat and a sizeable group of us from northern WV made our way south to Charleston to Camp Virgil Tate.  While at the camp Dan talked with me more about First Baptist Church Racine and the more he talked the more I could sense the Holy Spirit stirring me about it.  One of the difficulties I faced was Kathi.  You see she is like most ladies; she is a nester.  She had put her roots down, had found another young mother in our neighborhood with a child about the age of our oldest, and life was….well…it was good.  Of course, I would not want to uproot her and our babies unless we both felt this opportunity was definitely from God.  So, on the way home to Fairmont from Charleston, I began to pray, “Lord, if you want us in Racine, please let Kathi be open to the possibility.”  When I arrived home, I said, “Honey, How would you like to move to Racine, West Virginia?”  She quickly responded, “Let’s go!”  

Shortly, we made our way through the interview process and were on our way to Racine, WV.  Now you need to understand something.  Racine is not… (Deep breath)…it’s not your typical urban community.  In fact, it’s not typical anything.  Now don’t get me wrong.  It’s not bad, just different.  At least it was different for us.  I was used to the flat Kanawha River valley where I was raised among dairy farms.  Racine is nestled between the gorgeous mountains of West Virginia.  The sun still rises there but just does it a little later in the day than it does in most other places.  Racine had a small grocery store, post office, and a barber shop.  But Racine also had some people whose desire was to know Jesus.  Although the terrain was much different and the cultural opportunities were limited, it was the call of God and the spiritual hunger of a few people that drew us there.  Some of the dearest friends Kathi and I have today still live between those mountains of the Big Coal River.

We settled into what we hoped to be a long and fruitful ministry.  Arnold Tamplin, Pat Hudson, Harold Madison (who was a Methodist layman), and I began to visit up and down the roads and into the ‘hollers’.  We began to win people to Christ.  Before long there was a spirit of anticipation among the people both in and out of the Church that God might visit that little community.  Sometime along the journey I felt the Lord prompting me to invite an evangelist from San Antonio, Texas, Larry Taylor.  Larry came with a simple message of Christ and him crucified and a personal testimony of his own deliverance from Heroine.  During that meeting there were around 140 decisions for Christ; 90 of those decisions were first time decisions for salvation by students from at least two local high schools.  Of course, the main thing one wants to do is to get those new converts into churches and into some kind of discipleship.  We did just that.  We set up stations in other communities and attempted to firm up the decisions that were made.  Unfortunately, many of those ‘first-timers’ did not remain true at that time.  My prayer is that later in life they referred back to that initial experience and went on to maturity in Christ.

First Baptist was doing well.  The revival had helped the Church.  Several adults with children were joining the Church and the ‘cogs in the wheel’ were churning.  There was a problem, however, that began to surface.  From the beginning of our ministry Kathi and I felt our call was to the Church, rather than to the lost.  That’s not to say I wasn’t evangelistic.  While we were in Racine our Church was second in the state (around 600 churches) in baptisms.  But, I saw the real need was for the new converts to have a healthy spiritual environment in which to grow.  Some of the leaders in the Church, however,  wanted me to preach evangelistic messages from the pulpit.  I, on the other hand, saw my scriptural position as an equipper of the saints for the work of the ministry.  Some of the ‘saints’, however, thought they were paying me to do their witnessing for them.  The local Barber, who was unsaved, started coming to Church on Sunday mornings.  One day I went to get my haircut and he said, ‘Preacher you keep preachin’ the truth.’  He said, ‘The way you’re preachin’ is right.  I don’t care what those people down there say.’

After Kathi and I had been at the Church for about two years we were introduced to a man of God and his autobiography, which chronicled his walk with God.  Both his book and his messages were challenging, and spoke to some of the same issues about which I was concerned in the Church…lack of Christian maturity being one.  He pointed out the importance of God’s people being obedient to his will and giving evidence of the salvation within.  Tragically, after we had attended a few of his meetings and I even journeyed to Israel with him, the ‘power pockets’ within the Church began to work against me.  The false accusations began to fly.  The least accusations were that I was not preaching Baptist doctrine.  The worst were that I was involved in black magic and witchcraft.  Neither of the two extremes, nor any of those things along the continuum was true, but rumors don’t depend on truth, only willing participants to share a negative message.  Before long, private Board meetings were being held without my knowledge, and one Sunday in February of 1977 the Chairman of the Deacons stood to announce a Special called Business Meeting for the next Sunday.  I knew immediately what that was all about, so Kathi and I began to pray about what we should do.  We did not want to cause division within the Church.  What to do?  The next Saturday night I tossed and turned all night wrestling with the decision.  Finally, word came.  I was to resign and not put the Church through the difficult choice of taking sides for me and/or against life-long friends.

At the end of my message I read my resignation, sent my wife and three children (Nathan was born while we were living in Racine) out of the building to spare them any more hurt, and I sat down on the front row to allow the Church to act on my resignation.  Sadly, some people, who had not been in Church for months, came that day to vote against me.  Some of them began to say things that were untrue and crushing.  Finally, in the midst of one ‘speech’ I stood, turned and faced the congregation and said with tears in my eyes, “I love you with all my heart”, and I walked out of the building. 

In the years that followed I was called back to Racine to assist with funerals and for special celebrations. On one occasion after attending an anniversary celebration and standing and talking with some of the members, our oldest son, Chad said, “Dad, which ones were against us?”  I said, “Son, could you not tell?” What he did not know was that he had been standing with me talking to the main person, who was against us and he couldn’t tell by me that the man wasn’t a good friend.  Hallelujah!

Our youngest son, Nathan Aaron, was born while we lived in Racine.  His name means “God’s gift from the mountain”.  He, along with Chad and Stacye are very precious gifts from God.  But perhaps the greater gift we received from the mountains of Racine was a lesson in love. Maybe this is the first homework assignment in the School of Brokenness.  It’s easy to love when you’re new in town and everyone is trying to get acquainted with you, but it is an entirely different issue, when men are speaking evil against you falsely.  Let’s see!  What did Jesus say about that?  Oh yeah!  “Blessed are you when men revile you, and persecute you and say all manner of evil against you falsely for may sake, for so persecuted they the prophets who were before you.  Rejoice!”  Doesn’t God have a sense of humor?  Rejoice? And yet as we grow in Christ there is a depth of truth in his words which defies reason.  I confess, I don’t know much about this ‘suffering’ thing but I do try to claim the Apostle Paul’s words to the Church at Rome.  “God causes all things to work together for good to those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose…” (Romans 8:28).  I’d like to think I love my Lord more deeply today, in part, because of ‘God’s gift from the mountains’. 

MORE TO COME…

August 18th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | one comment

MY JOURNEY 5

THE SCHOOL OF BROKENNESS

Now that I was graduated from Southwestern Baptist Seminary, I was ready to begin my ministry in a nice urban church, or so I thought. I had my Master of Divinity degree…three and one-half years of intense learning. Surely now I could begin shepherding a group of people. I was so excited to get started, but Kathi and I had no direction from the Lord, and few churches were contacting me to candidate. One day the phone rang and it was our mentor, Dr. Dan Light. He was the minister under whom I was called to preach, and who married Kathi and me. It was he, who encouraged me to attend Southwestern, since that is where he had gone to school. He was then, and has been now for over forty (40) years a dear friend and Spiritual Guide. When I answered the phone, I heard his beautiful, baritone voice say, “Brother, come on home to West Virginia. We need you!” On that word we loaded up an EZ-Haul truck, and with Kathi’s father’s help, made our way back home to West Virginia with two (2) children in tow.

We unloaded our few belongings in my parents’ garage, and drove to Huntington to live temporarily with some friends from college days at Marshall. They had a brand new baby. We had Chad (18 months old) and Stacye (2months old). Did I mention this house was about 800 square feet in size? We slept on a, rollaway bed no bigger than a twin size, which was just about right for a young married couple. Since I had no church in which to minister, I had to get a job. I got a position on a construction crew, swinging a sledge-hammer, knocking down walls inside a building to make ready some exclusive apartments. I remember one day in particular I swung that sledge and failed to let my hand slide down the handle. One of my fingers jammed into the wall. I yelled…No bad words; you understand…just “ouch!” or something permissible for a ‘man of the cloth’. My finger was cut open and I was bleeding. I guess I had a lot of pent up anger, because I remember feeling as though this was just as good of an opportunity as any to have a long overdue conversation with the Lord. So I said, “OK, I went to Texas and went to school, something I didn’t want to do, just because you wanted me to. I graduated. I got this precious Masters degree, and what good is it doing me?” I’m stuck here in this old hotel doing a job I could have done with no education.” Fortunately for me God does not seem to get upset quickly. Unfortunately for me God seldom talks to me when I get like that. So, I spent 2 months in that job before being called by the First Southern Baptist Church of Fairmont, WV as their first full-time pastor. In the late spring of 1973 Kathi, the children, and I made our way to Fairmont to begin our ministry.

As I look back on that humble beginning there were a lot of firsts. I had my first Sunday in our new church. I had my ordination in our new church…and…let’s see…There was something else. What was it? Oh yeah…I ran off my first deacon. Not any deacon, mind you. This one was the Chairman of the Board. Can you believe it? I actually ran off the Chairman of the Board of Deacons on my first Sunday in ministry. Boy! What a gift! In my defense, he got mad because he thought I was trying to do his job as devotional leader of the Sunday school. It was a ‘rookie’ mistake on my part, but he would not be consoled. Some of the people said we were probably better off without him, but I felt like a dog.

Interestingly, throughout my ministry I have run into these situations on numerous occasions. Each time a situation occurred I would question my ‘call’ or think about resigning…but I never did. It was not long before I began to realize that when I graduated from seminary I enrolled in another school, THE SCHOOL OF BROKENNESS. I was to discover that I would not graduate from this school in weeks or months…but in years. In fact, after being a student in this school for 40 years I’m not sure I have even left kindergarten. When one walks onto the campus of The School of Brokenness and finds the main classroom building, a discovery is made. The steps to the building go ‘down’ not ‘up’. There are few enrollees in this school and fewer seem to ever graduate. The mascot is a Lamb. The symbol is a Cross.

I was confused, when I would run headlong into struggles, tests, trials and battles. I was one of the ‘good guys’. This stuff is not supposed to happen to ‘good guys’. Right? A closer inspection of the Bible reveals, however, that God’s people have always been people, who suffered. Apparently there is a maturing process that must take place, and interestingly, suffering plays an important role in all that. Paul said in Philippians 3:10, “That I might know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings…” A few years ago I was privileged to spend some time in a car with Gene Edwards, the chief proponent of the House Church in America, and a prolific author. Gene asked me to share my testimony with him. I did, giving him the ‘Reader’s Digest’ version. My friend, Steve Coder said, “Gene he’s not telling you everything.’ Gene then looked at us and gave us one of the most pregnant statements ever uttered, at least to me. He said, “Until a man of God suffers, the Church does not need to hear from him.” I have had several years now to meditate upon that statement and around forty (40) years of preaching and ministry upon which to test it. Something happens to a person, when he suffers. There are spiritual qualities of humility, and a depth of love, which cannot be known apart from joining in “the fellowship of his sufferings”. In fact, Paul gives quite an insight to this mystery saying, “…we are…fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him…” (Romans 8:17). I still don’t like suffering. I try to get out of just as much of it as I can. But, after all these years I think I have a little understanding of what it all might mean. I’m not the same man I was on that ‘first’ Sunday in 1973. That young preacher boy was to have several more run-ins with ‘Deacons’ and the like. I’m still in The School of Brokenness. There are no signs of graduation and no one is fitting me for a cap and gown just yet. But…well…something has happened to me. I think I actually know Jesus a little. I mean really know him. I do know that I love him more deeply and my fellowship with him is sweeter than it was in those early days.

Could I share a precious experience with you from those days as Pastor of First Southern Baptist of Fairmont? Kathi, the children and I were only there about fourteen months. During that time I was very zealous for the Lord. I would walk the streets of Fairmont and go ‘door to door’ taking ‘Religious Surveys’. I even trained my flock in personal evangelism and showed them how to do the surveys and lead into the ‘plan of salvation’. Well, one of the young ladies in the church was the only ’saved’ person in a very large family. She had a brother, whom they called Bo (Pronounced ‘Bow’). He was an alcoholic. I visited in their home and got acquainted with Bo. Shortly, I began to receive calls from Bo on Saturday night, when he had drunk just enough beer to loosen his tongue. He would ask me to come pick him up at the local bar, which I did. We would either come back to my house or drive around and he would want to talk about Jesus and being saved. Then he would ask me to take him back to the bar and drop him off, which I did. Once in a while Bo would show up at a Church service with just enough beer in him to give him courage to be there. However, on one special Sunday evening service Bo came…and he hadn’t had a drop to drink. I preached and gave the invitation. Down the aisle Bo came, staggering like a drunken man, who had had nothing to drink. He gave his life to Jesus and the Lord took away his desire for alcohol.

Well, Bo was one of my new disciples so I trained him in personal evangelism and the taking of the ‘Religious Survey’. A part of that survey was the question, “Of which of the following religious founders do you know the most about: (1) Moses, (2) Buddha, or (3) Jesus Christ.” Bo had never learned to read very well. One day he and I were out going door to door, when we came upon a home where both the man and woman were outside working in the yard. I asked Bo to take the survey with the man, while I surveyed the lady. I could overhear Bo struggling with the survey. When he got to the question about the founders of religion, instead of saying “Buddha”, he said, “BUBBA”. The man with whom he was sharing said, “Buddy, what in the world are you doing out here?” Bo responded, “Let me tell you what I’m doing out here.” Bo then put away the survey and told the man how Jesus saved him, and delivered him from alcoholism. I left that Church after only fourteen months and after I left, Bo Simmons became a deacon in the Church. Isn’t God good?

More to come…Whew!

August 14th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 6 comments