Wild Mustang: Lover of Soul and Inviter to the Dance

The First Calling I first heard a whispering of a call into ministry before my junior year of high school. I grew up at St. Andrew Presbyterian Church in Lake Charles.   We attended every Sunday, both Sunday School and Worship and I participated in the youth groups in Junior High and High School.    The call whispered while I was attending a summer work camp at Camp Lacombe, outside of New Orleans. The purpose of this work camp was to get ready for summer camp. I remember walking through the woods with the other high school campers and our leader, the Rev. Ted Roelings. I thought “this is good. I like being here in the woods.   I liked Ted. He’s a nice guy, for a minister. I enjoyed the work we were doing. It was good to serve together.” Then the thought came to me.   “I could be a pastor like Ted.” At that time, I did not know what I wanted to be “when I grew up.”   Perhaps I could be a minister.             I quickly pushed the idea out of my head.   Who wants to write a pa

Following the Fool             Today I want to share the story today of what launched me on this journey into the Wild. In the Fall of 2014, I had served as the pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Whitesboro, Texas for over four and half years. It had been a wonderful time, yet I felt myself getting disconnected. Bored. Not looking forward to going to the church building and participating in the ministry of the church.             This church of 65 members, located a few miles west of Sherman, Texas had done many wonderful things while I was there. Started a Saturday morning community breakfast in their fellowship hall that served between 100-150 people each week. Participated in a mission trip to Guatemala. Renovated the 1878 sanctuary, last updated in the 1950’s.   Offered tutoring to 3rd graders from a local elementary school. Loved one another and the community.   Learned, worshipped, shared with one another.   I was thankful to be their pastor. It had been a great exper

Jesus and Mary             A few years ago, I was at the old St. Paul’s Hospital in Dallas to see a member of the church I was serving.   I stepped out into the courtyard of the hospital and found a bench to sit on.   I decided to have a prayer time. I looked to my left and saw a statue of Jesus. I looked to my right and saw a statue of Mother Mary.   I held my left hand out and said, “Come Jesus come.” I held my right hand out and said, “Come Mary come.”   In that moment, in a way I cannot explain, I felt the presence of Jesus on my left and Mary on my right.   My thought was Jesus should be on my right and Mary on my left but that was not what I experienced. It could all be in my imagination, but it felt so real. This soon became a method of praying – holding out my left hand and saying, “come Jesus” and holding out my right hand and saying, “come Mary.”             After I began this Wild Mustang journey over four and half years ago, I was meeting with my therapist friend Su