Back in the fall of 1999, Miranda and I were able to reconcile and end our three month separation. I was able to land a teaching position with Jefferson Davis High School in Montgomery, so we loaded up and moved for the fourth time in three years.
After we got here, we started attending Vaughn Forest Baptist Church, a great church that was planted by one of my former pastors. The church is a fantastic one, but Miranda and struggled to find our niche. There is no real reason that I can clearly identify, but Vaughn Forest was never home for us. We struggled with finding a true sense of community, and it simply never occurred. The worship, teaching, and preaching were all fine… but for whatever reason, we weren’t finding our place. More than ever, we needed church to be a place of healing for us, but we didn’t find this church to be that for us. Finally, after months and months of struggling, we made a move. One Sunday, we visited Christ Community Church in Montgomery.
Over the next several months, God began to slowly heal the hurt that I had held onto. Over time, I had begun to embrace my role as a wounded pastor. I had served a church, and as a result, I had been hurt. I shared very openly with my pastor, Keith Waldrop, about my experiences, and he was incredibly supportive and encouraging. He allowed me to slowly become involved with various ministries of the church. At his invitation, I was part of a pastor’s study group that did research for him when he needed extra resources for sermon writing. I was also part of a men’s encouragement group that he led. On a couple of different occasions, I was able to help lead in worship through drama.
One of the strongest facets of Christ Community was the worship. Donald Butler is one of the most gifted worship leaders I know, and I was privileged to be able to regularly worship with him. On more than one occasion, Keith chose not to preach as a result of the intital worship going so well. I was so blessed by his humility in that… so many pastors would rather die than give up their pulpits on Sunday morning.
One Sunday morning during a time of extended worship, God began to stir my heart. I knew what He was saying to me, and I was uncomfortable with what I was hearing. Unable to stay in my seat or to stand and sing, I moved to the back of the worship center. Little did I know that Keith was already there. He sensed my hurting, and put his arms around me as he asked what was wrong.
Looking him dead in the eye, I told him through my tears, “Keith, God’s call on my life hasn’t changed. I was called years ago into ministry, but I have ignored that for the past several years. It has been easier to play this role… to be yet another pastor wounded by people who call themselves Christians. Do you remember the story where Jesus was about to heal the lame man but first asked him, ‘Do you want to be healed?’”
Keith nodded yes, that he remembered. “Keith, I am that lame man. He defined himself by his wounds, and I have done the same thing. It’s time to let go of that… but I don’t know if I can.”
Keith prayed with me that morning… I know I was in tears, and maybe he was, too.
We stayed at Christ Community Church for several more months before we were nudged out of the nest. I wasn’t sure if I would fly or crash into the ground, but I knew I had to spread my wings and try.