I was I guess about thirty, Dawn and Michael probably eight and six respectively. That would make Kim about 20. She was a very young mother (jk). I had been actively involved in the ministry for about eight years. I had pastored one church and most recently served as youth pastor at another. I was at a crossroad in life, searching for my next step in ministry.
I did some deep soul searching during that time as I had before and would many more times in the future. I told God when I answered the call to ministry I would go anywhere he led as long as He led the way and provided for me and my family while we were there. I received an invitation to try out for a pastorate one evening from a church in the south. This wasn't really Deep South but further south than I was accustomed.
I visited the church a couple weeks later and it was love at first sight. I felt the love of the people when I preached and they felt the spirit of the Lord as they listened. We moved into the parsonage about a month later.
It was literally a dream for the first six months. The church was out in the country with the parsonage right next door to it. Our yard was about five acres with trees everywhere. The parsonage was nice enough and roomy, and the people were just wonderful. They showered us with gifts and acts of kindness daily. Our kids hit it off with the neighborhood kids too. We thought we had found our permanent home.
Well, the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. As pessimistic as that sounds, there is much truth to it....especially in the ministry. If you don't believe me, ask Peter and Paul.
We were there about nine months when we decided to check into doing foster care. We had talked of this for years. Now seemed like a good time to start. Before DHS would do the home study they suggested we get approval of the church. We thought this to be simply a technicality, but we were in for a rude awakening.
We excitedly announced our intentions one Sunday morning before church. We fully expected the church to be happy for us and totally supportive. The church did not share our excitement though. The response was instead unsupportive and bordering on indignant. After a few moments of discomfort following my announcement a deacon stood and said we probably needed to have a board meeting to discuss it that night after church.
We had no idea what the problem was. These people had been our friends. I had hunted with them, eaten with them, and visited them in the hospital. They had been nothing but good to us. Something was wrong though and I figured we were going to find out soon enough.
That was one long afternoon. My ministry and family's future were both apparently at stake. That afternoon Kim and I did a lot of praying. Before church that night we called the kids into the living room and prayed a hedge around our family and ministry. We would do this several more times over the next couple years. If I learned only one thing at that church it was that there is power in prayer.
I met with the board that night. I still had no idea what was going on. The meeting lasted several hours. Most of that time was spent with me fielding potshots and questions that appeared to have nothing to do with why we were meeting. They complained about my preaching, how I mowed the lawn, and how we kept the house. On numerous occasions I had the urge to walk out of the meeting, grab the kids and my wife and be done with it. Something kept me there though. It was as if God had His hand on my shoulder holding me in my chair. He was very clear in His intentions. He wasn't done with me there yet.
Remember, I still had no idea what this really was all about. I finally got my fill of the whole inquisition. I informed them it was time to cut to the chase and address the issue at hand. Were they going to allow us to do foster care or not?
They stuttered around for a little while after I asked that, then the chairman finally let the cat out of the bag. He said, "Brother, we all admire what you are trying to do here. We have nothing against you helping some of these kids out. I guess my question is, can you specify what nationality is placed with you? Do you know what I mean?"
Well, at this, a light went on. It became very clear what the problem was. I responded, "I am afraid I know exactly what you mean, Brother. You are referring to race, not nationality. Yes, I figure we could, but not with a clear conscience." To this he responded that it would probably be in the best interest of us and the church that we not do foster care.
I was shocked. I was not raised around prejudice and had never witnessed it in this manner first hand. This deacon would later explain to me that he normally explained the situation to potential pastors. For whatever reason he had not when he called me. The fact is, had he, I would not have even considered that pastorate. It seems apparent God wanted me in that small town.
Before I proceed I might point out that at this point I felt this chairman of the deacon board was my greatest enemy, that he was an agent of the devil himself. Over the next couple years I would eventually discover though that he was my greatest ally, a friend willing to give up all for the sake of honor and what he knew to be right. He informed he was simply trying to protect me at this juncture.
Before I left that meeting I assured the board I no longer had any intention of doing foster care as long as I remained there. I would not drag an innocent black child into that kind of prejudice. I told them that they could rest assured that I would not bring the neighboring blacks into the church as well for the same reason. I then looked at all of them intently in the eyes and said, "I am not sure what my next move will be, whether I stay or go. I do know this though, when I stand before God at judgement, I will stand before Him with a clear conscience concerning this issue. I am not sure where you will stand."
In hindsight, to be quite honest, I am not sure where each of those six men stood. A couple of them proved to be loyal friends. A couple proved to be downright two faced hypocrites.
The next two years were very difficult for our family. We would field emotional and spiritual attacks on numerous occasions for various reasons. I preached on compassion and against prejudice many times seemingly to no avail. Their defense and attack were mostly covert rather than overt. Very little was spoken directly about the actual issue at hand.
Well, I was scolded on occasion for mixing with the neighboring blacks and on one occasion one of the deacons made some comments about the perception of my blonde daughter playing with the neighborhood black boys in our back yard. That discussion just about led to blows.
This went on for two years. I was falsely accused of various acts on numerous occasions. They even staged an inspection of our house while we were on vacation. We were constantly on the alert, fearing their next move or attack.
After about two years though we came to an em passé. The attendance had dropped and key members were withholding their tithes and offerings. I started driving a bus to help offset a pay cut. I was determined not to leave until God made His intentions clear though. His intentions became clear when the church went back on some promises they had made to me concerning my kids when we came.
I'm not going to use up the space to explain the issue here. It was very important to my kids and our future at the church. I remember when the vote was tallied the chairman of the deacon board turned to me, his face was as white as a sheet, and he said ashamedly, "Brother John, I don't know what else to say to you except, we lied to you and your family." I responded, "I am confident everybody present knows what that means. I have no choice but to resign."
We borrowed a camper trailer and moved into the back yard of one of the other deacons. We didn't know how long it would be, but we were prepared for the long haul. I continued driving a school bus and Kim went to work in the school cafeteria. God provided though and we were at our next church in Guymon, OK within six weeks.
You know, in so many ways I could look at those three years of my life as a waste and my ministry there a failure. Much good did come out of it though. For one, I learned no matter how bleak things appear, God is in control. We faced some hard times there, but God always pulled us through. Also, no matter how much you feel a failure, God brings some good out of all our good intentions.
Several of the young from that church have moved on to other places and ministries. At least two of the kids are now in full time ministry. No matter how much you feel you are speaking to deaf ears, some are probably listening. Many did change their attitudes toward blacks then and as the years followed. Another church in the community in which I had close ties to has now opened its doors to black families.
My kids went through a tough time themselves, but were exposed to something they otherwise would never have known. They are both stronger as a result. They have also developed a love for their fellow man they might otherwise never known.
God has implanted in me a great hatred of prejudice and racism. He has given me a love for those different from me and a compassion toward those less fortunate. Much of this drive was planted during and nurtured through this experience.
Im not sure what you will take from this story. I will tell you this, this wasn't that long ago and not too awfully far from where I live today. Prejudice and racism is still alive and well today. Blacks and other minorities are still being oppressed. God Himself is no respecter of persons. He despises prejudices and expects the church to do the same.
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