In my last post, I noted that my first sermon became something of a sign and seal of my calling to the pastorate. After that sermon, I was motivated to pursue the art of preaching. That was 26 years ago. Strangely enough, I didn’t follow the classical pastoral-calling testimonies at an early age. In fact, mine came through many toils and snares later in my late teens, as I referenced in previous posts. Nevertheless, from that moment on, I felt convinced that I had found my calling.
Our small college was the perfect environment to practice pastoral habits. I quickly began meeting everyone on campus, and my visibility made the process easier. The more I greeted new folks, the more I embraced my calling, and the more opportunities rose to minister to them and to preach and teach in various places—churches, downtown, dorm rooms, etc.
For those who don’t know much about Clearwater, FL, it is one of the highest concentrations of Scientologists in the world. Tom Cruise and others had homes near our campus. This opened up downtown evangelism for many of us at Clearwater Christian. We gathered to pray, then began walking up and down, looking for properly dressed individuals who fit the mold. They were easy to spot. I confess they were kind and generous, which gave us plenty of time to use our apologetic resources and hand them tracts. Notably, we usually found those tracts in trash cans spread through downtown. But we pressed on. We ministered to the homeless, the rich, and the L. Ron Hubbard disciples.
The following three years were full of delight. I was elected student body chaplain and took on more campus opportunities as a tutor, spiritual leader, and overall dorm “priest.” My enthusiasm for theology increased significantly. I came across Christian Reconstructionist works early on, along with my fair dose of John MacArthur and R.C. Sproul. That combination was a bit odd, but it helped seal convictions already playing in the background.
The Conflict with Baptist Roots
I had built a remarkable relationship with some of the Bible Presbyterians on campus. They were eccentric, at least from my Baptist perspective. They took the covenant seriously and had a sobering disposition. They treated the Bible with utmost respect, had unique perspectives on the Sabbath, and upheld Premillennial tendencies, which I have always counted as odd.
Their tenacity and vigor eventually won me over, along with the PCA and Recon literature I had devoured. By the time I spent Christmas break in Pennsylvania, I was ready to devour the Michael Horton book I was afraid to open. It was a snowy day, and the next day my non-Reformed convictions melted with the snow. When I returned to campus the next week, virtually all my professors knew something was different about me. I had swallowed the Reformed delicacies, and now I was on a conversion tour. More importantly, I realized then that my future as a pastor would have to be outside my Baptist circles. Unfortunately, that put my finances at risk, since my supporters saw me as an investment in fundamentalism. And I had made a really big change. But though they threatened me, they continued to support me, and by the time I graduated, I left debt-free.
In my second, third, and fourth years, I felt compelled to find a congregation that fit my current theological dispositions. And I did find it. That church was Holy Trinity Presbyterian (PCA) in Tampa Bay. The pastors, all Westminster Seminary grads, were gracious, took me in, and gave me remarkable opportunities to play music and even teach. I took it with great trepidation.
My final years in college became a season of confirmation for my calling—a calling I knew was different from what I first imagined. Instead of the preacher-boy of altar-call ethos, I was now delving into Genevan robes and Westminsterian intellect. And those worlds couldn’t be more different.
Over several essays, I’ve told the story of how the Lord led me into pastoral ministry. It began with a simple question from my nine-year-old son and has taken me back through Brazil, Pennsylvania, and eventually Florida. Here are the five installments thus far:
Part 1 — The Early Seeds of My Pastoral Calling
It all began when my nine-year-old asked how I became a pastor. The question took me back to my childhood in Brazil, growing up as a pastor’s son. I also share about the death of my father and some unexpected turns along the way.
Part 2 — The Night I First Considered the Ministry
I remember arriving in Altoona, Pennsylvania, and being cared for by Mrs. Dey and a Brethren congregation. After sharing my testimony publicly, someone asked whether I had ever considered becoming a pastor. That question opened up the vista for me.
Part 3 — Answering the Call to the Pastorate
My high-school years brought plenty of theological conversation and questions. It also brought a growing sense that the ministry might require more formal preparation than I had originally imagined.
Part 4 — Providence, College, and the Road to Florida
College was anything but straightforward. Some doors closed, others opened, and eventually I found myself headed to Clearwater Christian College in Florida.
Part 5 — My First Sermon and the Confirmation of a Calling
My early days at Clearwater involved groundskeeping, theological discussions, and an unexpected election as freshman chaplain. Before long, I was preaching my first formal sermon. Looking back, those experiences confirmed the path before me.
Nuntium
For those of you who don’t know, a little hurricane is coming our way. Isaias is making its way to our town and as a result, I had to cancel my participation in St. Louis for the marriage and family conference hosted by my good friend, Jeff Meyers. I was looking forward to joining him and Steve Wilkins and had tightened my three lectures. Nevertheless, God saw fit to close those doors. As for the hurricane, pray it offers us little spectacle and clears quickly by Saturday.
