In 1980 I took my first appointment as a preacher in the United Methodist Church. I attended the Divinity School at Duke University where I earned my Master's Degree. During these years at Duke I learned quite a bit about the history of the Methodist movement. In the early days of the American Frontier, it was the Methodist circuit riding preachers who carried the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the untamed western fringes of settlement. They were, in large measure, responsible for spawning the Second Great Awakening. I loved this. I had become familiar enough with the politics of the church on the conference level that I was already skeptical. It seemed to me that it was all about oiling the machinery of Methodism. I knew this was not our history. Historically, Methodist preachers were the ones who were willing to leave the comfort and security of the settled, established eastern churches to ride the western frontier in search of converts, even to the displeasure of the heirarchy of the church. These preachers were not interested so much in the process of the institutionalization of the church as they were in carrying the good news of Jesus Christ to the lost. What I saw going on at conference was a far cry, in my estimation, from our roots.
In 1984 I was standing outside the parsonage one night looking up at the beautiful vastness of the heavens. I felt in my heart that God was speaking to me. I could see a door before me which was closed, and could feel in my spirit that God was asking me if I were willing to cross that threshold for Him into the unknown of what was beyond. I did not have a firm enough grasp on the comfort and security of the institutional church at that time to say "No." I was still the child (at heart) full of wonderment of what God could and would do through those who were willing to trust Him. Say I told Him I would cross that threshold if He would open the door before me.
For a long while, nothing seemed to change. I had a great ministry in my first appointment. In 1986 I moved to my second appointment. This too was a great experience. For about six months I was the only pastor in that small community. The Baptist minister there had moved on. The Presbyterian preacher had retired. So I had the wonderful privilege of being the spiritual leader for three churches, of vastly different theological perspectives. It was fantastic. I was enjoying the greatest spiritual high of my life.
Then it all began to change. I didn't see it coming. I guess I dropped my guard. A friend in that community was very much involved in the church. But he was also involved in the lusts of the flesh. It was nothing to see him visiting the local ABC store. For some reason, it bothered me that he could go to such a place, and no one would say a word. But if I went there, the entire town would be having me for Sunday lunch. I didn't even want to go there, but I am telling very briefly what actually transpired over a period of time. I began to resent living in a parsonage (the proverbial glass house).
It went from bad to worse. A young lady came to the church to be our choir director. She was beautiful in appearance. And she was much too friendly to me. It took me by surprise. I didn't anticipate any of it. She and her husband were not getting along too well. She needed someone to talk to. I genuinely cared for her. I will not give all the details here. Suffice it to say that she presented herself to me in a way which I found extremely difficult to resist. But I did resist. Not for any noble reason. I was afraid. What if I didn't read what she was doing correctly? I stood to lose everything. I hated what I was thinking. I was happily married. I loved my wife. She had been beside me through thick and thin. But here I was, thinking "unholy" thoughts about another woman. I hated this. But I also hated that because I was a preacher I couldn't even consider it. There was a war inside me I had never known. It was the war between the person in Christ I wanted to be, and the very real passions and desires which are natural to all of us, but which, if unbridled, will destroy us. I didn't know how to resolve this. If a person who was merely a member of the congregation had an affair, the people would talk about it for a while, and it would soon pass. But if I were seen with her, all hell would break loose. I resented it. Besides, I was married. I loved my wife. I shouldn't even have thoughts like this. Then I began to condemn myself for even having these thoughts.
To complicate matters even more, in December, 1991 she announced her resignation, and she left the church and the community, just like that. I was shattered. I had feelings for her I didn't understand. I couldn't handle it. Now she was gone. I went off the deep end.
A year later I left that church as well. I thought moving would help me get my thoughts back together. And it did, for a while. But then the end came. A man and his son began attending the church. His wife was Korean. She attended the Korean church in the area. The man had surgery on his knee, and after the surgery, his wife attended worship with him, to bring him. She liked the church, and decided to attend regularly. Being Korean, she didn't understand a lot of what was happening, and she would stay behind after worship and Bible study from time to time to ask questions. We became very good friends. We ended up having a affair. My ministry, and my marriage came to an end. The woman with whom I had the affair chose to remain with her husband, and they moved to another state. This was the proverbial straw which broke the camel's back.
In August, 1999 I surrendered my credentials. In October of that year my father died. I had it in my mind that I had worried him to death. The guilt was more than I could bear. I started drinking, heavily.
I have told all of that to say this... after six years I have gone to hell and back. But I now understand something about my original calling I didn't understand initially. The people who are scattered, and distressed, and like sheep having no shepherd are not "out there." They are people who sit in worship every Sunday morning. They are people who attend Sunday School, and who appear outwardly to have it all together. They are our preachers, and our teachers, and our lawyers, and our town officials. They are our sons and daughters, our parents, and our best friends. They are people just like us. But they have been conditioned to hide, rather than to share, what is killing them inside. They have been seduced by the religious to believe if they dare share what is inside, or even admit and own it, they will be condemned.
I went through a six year period of overwhelming guilt for what I did to my wife. I hated God. I hated church. I hated everything, and everyone, including myself. This was, for me, my wilderness experience. But the joy of the wilderness is that it was there Moses met God. It as there he finally understood the calling he believed he had even before he met God at Mount Sinai. The Bible says, in Acts, that Moses thought they would understand that he was to be the deliverer of Israel. This was BEFORE he ever encountered God in the burning bush, when God called him. Yet he already had a sense of calling. It was in the wilderness that he met God, and that God confirmed the calling.
