The First Calling


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 paper every week? I didn’t like writing one paper much less fifty a year. I also couldn’t imagine reading what I had written to a whole bunch of people. Every Sunday.  I heard what people said about sermons.  Who wants to hear that?  A few months later, I decided to attend Texas A&M and major in Agriculture Economics.  Enough of this silly minister idea.
At this same time, my dad’s dad, I called him Big Daddy, was sharing with my parents that he believed I would be a good minister.  Big Daddy wondered if I might end up serving the church.  His other son Milam Brantley, my Uncle Joe, was a Presbyterian minister. My parents wondered this also because of my activity in the church.  But when I decided to go to A&M and major in Agriculture Economics, they figured the ministry was not for me.
As I reflect on this call over forty years later, I notice where the call came – out in nature, with a group of friends, working on a camp.  I wonder what the call was to.  I interpreted it as a call to church ministry, to writing and delivering sermons each week.  What other kind of ministry is there? I wonder what would have happened if I had been able to simply sit with the call, to ask “God, what are you calling me to?”  To walk the woods.  To listen and breathe.  To talk to Ted Roelings. 
A few years later, while in college, I went with my campus ministry group on a Spring Break trip to Big Bend. There I heard another call to ministry.  Again, I thought this must mean serving the local church. I said, “No way.” Then I said, “If this is your will, God.” Again, I was out in nature.  I was with a group of friends.  I was with a campus minister, Mike Miller, whom I loved and respected.  I wonder now what this ministry was I was being called to. 
I am so grateful for the opportunity to serve the church for over 30 years.  I know God has been present and has blessed me in so many ways.  I have been pastor to some wonderful churches and been with some wonderful people.  I can never say I heard my call wrong to serve the local church. But my call, received in nature, with some friends and a beloved pastor, was not specified to the local church.  Serving the local church was my interpretation. What was God calling me to?  What is God calling me to? Perhaps some time in nature with some friends and a beloved pastor will bring some clarity.
This will be my last blog of 2019.  I wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

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