The Name of It Was Called Marah
The words of Hezekiah, King of Judah:
During the decade of the Clinton presidency, I was pastor of a small Southern Baptist church in the Deep South. Years before I arrived, that church had adopted as its statement of faith the historic Abstract of Principles, which is also the doctrinal statement of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. Slowly, however, a situation arose in the church concerning me and the Abstract - not that I somehow deviated from it, but rather, that I actually believed (and taught) what it affirmed. Without getting into specifics, suffice it to say, the issue got tense and sometimes emotional.
Nevertheless, I still hoped against hope that the Lord would somehow intervene and bring us all together. In my mind that wasn't far-fetched because, even with our differences, there was a degree of mutual affection, albeit strained. But it just didn't happen. Instead, the truth of Amos 3:3 pressed heavily upon my mind: “Can two walk together, except they be agreed?” On that score, there wasn't any doubt. Although we called ourselves one church, we neither agreed nor did we walk together. In reality, the church consisted of three groups - a small group that sympathized with my doctrinal leanings, another small group that adamantly opposed those views, and a middling group that seemed uncertain, swaying back and forth, almost like spectators. In the end, there was little common ground. So after a little more than seven years as pastor, I resigned with sobbing regret.
In the days immediately following, I wore shame like a garment, and sorrow sat in my heart like a stone. Because when a minister loses his church, whether he is voted out or forced out for whatever reason, it's emasculating. By all outward appearances, I was a failure. I didn't want to see anyone; I didn't want to talk to anyone. And I think I had a taste of what Hezekiah meant when he said “I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul” (Isaiah 38:15). If I hadn't believed in God's loving sovereignty over of my life, especially in those first few months, I could have easily lost my mind or worse.
But Hezekiah also said, “Behold, for peace I had great bitterness: but thou hast in love to my soul delivered it . . .” (Isaiah 38:17). Despite my spirit being crushed, the Lord still showed kindness to me and my family. We never missed a meal, and every bill was paid without going into debt. We were able to rent a small house in the next county, and away from all the stress of the previous few years, it was probably the best six months we ever had as a family. My children were preschoolers at the time, and the house had a large screened-in porch where they played for hours. Our landlords even gave each of them their own kitten which they adored. And my bruised soul began to heal. To this day, we still have fond recollections of the time we spent in that little house.
It's now been twenty years since I resigned that church. And while I regret what happened, I have no regrets about leaving. I still consider myself a theologian of sorts, but I have no desire to pastor another church.
“Like a crane or swallow, so did I chatter: I did mourn as a dove: mine eyes fail with looking upward: O LORD, I am oppressed; undertake for me. What shall I say? He hath both spoken unto me, and himself hath done it; I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul. O Lord, by these things men live, and in all these things is the life of the spirit: so wilt thou recover me, and make me to live. Behold, for peace I had great bitterness: but thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption: for thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back” (Isaiah 38:14-17).
During the decade of the Clinton presidency, I was pastor of a small Southern Baptist church in the Deep South. Years before I arrived, that church had adopted as its statement of faith the historic Abstract of Principles, which is also the doctrinal statement of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. Slowly, however, a situation arose in the church concerning me and the Abstract - not that I somehow deviated from it, but rather, that I actually believed (and taught) what it affirmed. Without getting into specifics, suffice it to say, the issue got tense and sometimes emotional.
Nevertheless, I still hoped against hope that the Lord would somehow intervene and bring us all together. In my mind that wasn't far-fetched because, even with our differences, there was a degree of mutual affection, albeit strained. But it just didn't happen. Instead, the truth of Amos 3:3 pressed heavily upon my mind: “Can two walk together, except they be agreed?” On that score, there wasn't any doubt. Although we called ourselves one church, we neither agreed nor did we walk together. In reality, the church consisted of three groups - a small group that sympathized with my doctrinal leanings, another small group that adamantly opposed those views, and a middling group that seemed uncertain, swaying back and forth, almost like spectators. In the end, there was little common ground. So after a little more than seven years as pastor, I resigned with sobbing regret.
In the days immediately following, I wore shame like a garment, and sorrow sat in my heart like a stone. Because when a minister loses his church, whether he is voted out or forced out for whatever reason, it's emasculating. By all outward appearances, I was a failure. I didn't want to see anyone; I didn't want to talk to anyone. And I think I had a taste of what Hezekiah meant when he said “I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul” (Isaiah 38:15). If I hadn't believed in God's loving sovereignty over of my life, especially in those first few months, I could have easily lost my mind or worse.
But Hezekiah also said, “Behold, for peace I had great bitterness: but thou hast in love to my soul delivered it . . .” (Isaiah 38:17). Despite my spirit being crushed, the Lord still showed kindness to me and my family. We never missed a meal, and every bill was paid without going into debt. We were able to rent a small house in the next county, and away from all the stress of the previous few years, it was probably the best six months we ever had as a family. My children were preschoolers at the time, and the house had a large screened-in porch where they played for hours. Our landlords even gave each of them their own kitten which they adored. And my bruised soul began to heal. To this day, we still have fond recollections of the time we spent in that little house.
It's now been twenty years since I resigned that church. And while I regret what happened, I have no regrets about leaving. I still consider myself a theologian of sorts, but I have no desire to pastor another church.
Labels: Abstract of Principles, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary
posted by Troy Hurdle | 6:03 PM
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1 Comments
