|Mending & molding the pieces into a whole Body|
Broken Pastor, Broken Church
January 1, 2001
My calendar for the summer and beyond was blank. I usually planned my preaching schedule for a full year, but beyond the second Sunday in June—nothing. I had no ideas. I sensed no leading from the Spirit. But it was only January, so I decided to try again in a couple of months. Again, nothing. By then, I suspected the Lord was up to something.
A member of my church had told me the year before, "Don't die in this town." I knew what she meant. She didn't envision Columbus as the peak of my ministry. Columbus was a county-seat town with three universities nearby, and, for Mississippi, cosmopolitan. I felt Columbus, First Baptist, and I were a good match. The church grew. We were comfortable together. My family was settled. Our sons and daughter had completed most of their schooling, and after twelve years, they called Columbus home. My wife, Margaret, and I had weathered a few squalls, but life was good—a little quiet, perhaps even stagnant, but good.
And suddenly I could hear the clock ticking. Did God have something more for me?
First Baptist Church of Charlotte, North Carolina, called in March. I ended my ministry at Columbus the second Sunday of June and began in Charlotte one month later.
After I'd been in Charlotte about a month, the man who chaired their search committee phoned. "I have some people I want you to talk with," he told me. He picked me up and drove me to the impressive home of one of our members. In the living room were a dozen men, all leaders in the church and in the city. Another man appeared in charge.
"We want to offer you some guidance in pastoring the church," he said. "There are several issues we feel are important, and we want you to know where we stand." He outlined their position on the ...