I very nearly became another statistic of the spiritual drought the church is experiencing in our day. When I left a career in business to pursue a calling as a pastor, I felt fresh, alive, and driven by an all-consuming passion. Sharing the good news was my meat and drink. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else with my life.
By God’s grace, that’s true today more than ever. And the crisis of faith I endured and survived was the catharsis that brought me to this place of freedom and joy in Jesus.
Most of us don’t choose our theology, our beliefs, and understanding of the Bible and what it teaches. I didn’t. My first Bible was a Schofield. It was a gift. And combined with the early teaching to which I was exposed, my understanding of God and the salvation that comes through Jesus Christ was shaped by this view of scripture.
My early mentors also played a role in shaping the ministry path I followed. Choosing a “biblically conservative” seminary was a must. I followed their advice having no idea of the controversy in which I would soon be swept up.
That controversy - which continues to this day - ushered in the cloudless skies, scorched earth, and brown grass of spiritual drought in my life and ministry.
But spiritual drought, unlike physical drought, can go unnoticed. That’s certainly true of large portions of the church in our nation today. Sacrifice matters more than mercy. Religious rules replace the Royal Law.1 Allegiance to a theological camp blinds us to the inclusive grace that is the Good News of God’s Kingdom. And the institution that is born out of all these things rewards those who bow down to it while punishing those who dare question it.
I questioned it.
The reason I questioned it was because I was spiritually dehydrated. What was once living water had become a dirty stream. This wasn’t only true of my life and ministry. More and more, I noticed it in others. But many of these seemed unaware of their dehydrated state. The upward mobility of allegiance to the institution had either deceived them or seduced them. I wasn’t sure which.
Others appeared to be resigned to the desert. Conforming to expectations. Slogging away toward retirement and the retirement package they hoped would be enough.
Occasionally, in private, some of my pastor friends would confide in me that this was how they felt. Trapped. Nowhere else to go. Miserably enduring what at one time was their raison d’etre.
For my part, I’d had enough. The swirling controversy in our denomination sucked in everything in its path - churches, colleges and seminaries, local associations, mission organizations - everything.
Here’s an example of how it played out. I was on the way to the graveside with three pastors who participated in a funeral service. Like me, they had supported what was called the “conservative resurgence,” also known as the “Battle for the Bible.” Had things gone too far? Were the tightening restrictions on who’s in and who’s out really what Jesus meant by the narrow path?
One of my pastor buddies shared a story. He had recently attended one of the frequent conferences intended to indoctrinate and shore up support from the grassroots. One of his former professors spoke at this particular conference. In a private conversation, he asked this respected teacher, “Do you think things in our denomination have gone too far? Will this war never end? Are we weaning pups on fight so that all they know how to do is fight?
“Yes,” he replied. “But if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”
Trapped in the institution. Fearful for his family and future. Slogging toward retirement.
I picked up the phone in my office and dialed the number. Our church had recently completed a fundraising campaign for a new building. The consultant who led the campaign, recognizing that the church I served was similar to the one he once served and the many others he had worked with since leaving the pastorate and joining the fundraising business, nodded his head at me one day over dinner and said, “Call me when you’ve had enough.”
But as things progressed with this potentially new career in “ministry,” something didn’t feel right. The potential to make a lot of money in commissions was there, but was I trading one set of chains for another?
I began looking into ministry as a chaplain. A noble profession, but one for which I really wasn’t gifted. I was a teacher, a pastor, someone called to shepherd a community of God’s people, encouraging and modeling for them the way of Jesus.
It was about that time I received a call from Keith. Keith began following Jesus as a teenager in the first church I led. He sensed God leading him to become a pastor. After receiving his seminary degree, he served two churches. Until he hit the wall. Infighting and controversy were seeking to claim another soul.
Keith asked me to serve as a reference on his resume. He asked if I could recommend him to a new church, a different church, a better church. Praying and hoping that there really was a better church out there for Keith, I began searching for churches at the school from which I received my doctorate.
It was the Summer of 2007.
Sitting in my office, perusing the churches seeking pastors on my seminary website, I came across an unusual and unexpected fellowship of Christians. Seoul International Baptist Church was seeking to call and support its first pastor without any outside financial assistance. For years, the church had been led by missionary pastors. But the current pastor, who had served for eight years, leading the church to reach people from all nationalities and walks of life, had been given an ultimatum by the mission board of the denomination - leave the church and stay with the mission board, or leave the mission board and stay with the church.
It was a matter of policy change. Korea had, for the most part, been evangelized, Christianized. Missionaries needed to be in places that needed the gospel. And a city of 14 million, with people from counties and cultures around the world, was not on the list. This, of course, notwithstanding the apostle Paul’s missionary strategy.2
I can’t speak to his reasons for choosing to stay with the mission board. I do know that within a few years of serving in Thailand, he was let go by the Board for “conduct unbecoming a missionary.” I’ve often wondered if he made the wrong choice. Did he give in to the pressure placed upon him? Did that choice ultimately lead to his downfall? Only God knows, but his departure led to my restoration and the spiritual rainfall that revived the dry, thirsty soul that threatened to destroy my calling, my life.
To be continued.
In Christ,
Dan
These are the experiences that led me to write, “Where is the God of Elijah? Overcoming Spiritual Drought.” Here’s a link to the book for those who are interested.
"If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself,’ you are doing right.” (James 2:8)
Paul targeted the large cities of his day. He understood that by doing so, he could reach people from all walks of life, and the gospel seed sown in the cities would be carried by the people he reached around the world.
And God’s leading you to Seoul also saved me, my marriage and all three of my children.
Thank you, Brittany.