Don’t Forsake Your Calling

Before I came to Tremont Temple to serve as a pastor, my plan was to plant a church in New Bedford, MA, a rough-hewn city that was formerly the wealthiest city in the North America per capita, maybe even the in world due to its whaling and textile industries in the mid-1800s. My first exposure to the city was in a police car. All prisoners in Bristol County were dropped off at the infamous Ash Street Jail where they were held awaiting trial. The drive to the jail was about 20 minutes, and many early mornings working the midnight shift as an officer, I made that journey with a captive audience for the gospel in my back seat. After leaving policing, heading to Louisville for seminary, fast-tracking to Capitol Hill for further training, and then joining the pastoral staff at Grace Harbor Church in Providence, it became my dream to plant a church in the famous whaling city, the setting that kicks off Melville’s Moby Dick. And yet, the dream of planting a church in New Bedford would never become a reality.

While pastoring in Providence, I came to feel that church planting was not what God had called me to do. There’s no doubt that God calls people to do very hard things for his name. But I firmly believe that those he calls he also makes willing. Like in 1 Timothy 3, the first qualification of an elder is a desire to do the work. Through my interaction with church planters and observing the nature of their work, I realized that it wasn’t for me. When I came to Grace Harbor, the agreed upon plan was to be there for a year and a half, gain some experience as an associate pastor, and then head to New Bedford, taking with me some members from Grace to start the New Bedford plant. Yet, my heart was not in it and I wasn’t sure what to do next. In fact, though I loved the gospel ministry, with no clear options in front of me, I strongly contemplated a short stint in the military.

I had always admired the U.S. military and I’ve always thrived in team settings. I found it most enjoyable to take leadership among groups of boys and men to complete challenging tasks. In my younger years rising to the rank of Eagle Scout, I took leadership in my Boy Scout troop. I was selected in the Plymouth Police Academy to be a platoon leader. In high school and college sports, including football and track, I was selected as Team Captain. A penchant for this kind of thing led me to negotiate a 2-year contract with the Army Rangers. Having already completed my Master of Divinity, I knew I would likely return to ministry, but with some cool stories to tell. And so, I went to the army recruiter in Providence, took the ASVAB test, and it was determined that I was well-qualified to aim at being a part of Ranger Regiment.

Almost everyone in my life, my parents, Adriana, my fellow pastors, friends, and others urged me not to do it. The contact was on the table, ready to be signed, yet the voices I had been hearing gave me pause. I had been married for a little over a year, and Mercy had been born only several months before. We were newly married with our first baby. It was not exactly the most convenient time to join the Army Rangers. If I’m honest, I think perhaps I was struggling to submit myself to an ordinary life of marriage and ministry. I suspect that I had thought of church planting as a deliciously daring quest. But now that the thrilling prospect had died and I was having to adjust to a mundane ministry existence with no big adventure up ahead, I veered off into a path of folly. Thankfully, the Lord intervened.

While I was struggling to make a final decision, through a series of divine appointments, one between Kevin, the lead pastor of Grace Harbor, and Denton Lotz, the pastor of TTBC at the time, I was invited to meet Denton, who was looking for an assistant pastor. Kevin strongly encouraged me to meet with him, and so there I sat, on Court Street in front of the New England Center and Home for Veterans. I was early for my meeting with Denton and had pulled out a small paperback copy of a sermon by the Puritan Richard Sibbes called, “Christ is Best” which was an exposition of a passage from Philippians. As I read the sermon, Sibbes quoted Exodus 17, the story of Israel fighting the Amalekites at Rephidim. It’s a familiar story—Moses watched the battle from the top of the hill, and while he held the staff in the air, Israel prevailed. When his arms dropped, Amalek did. But Aaron and Hur held up his arms, and Israel conquered.

Sibbes used the story to make his point, saying something like, “All of the men of Israel armed themselves with swords and shields to fight the enemy that day. But it was the man of God on the hill, waging the spiritual battle, who determined the outcome. If the Lord has gifted and called you to wield the weapons of ministry—to be a faithful gospel minister, do not forsake your calling. Do not trade in your spiritual armor for common weapons made of steel.” I am paraphrasing Sibbes to death, and from a cloudy memory, as I sat there ten plus year ago, and I no longer have the copy of that sermon. But Sibbes’ point filled me with both terror and joy. Why had I been so misguided? How had I come so close to trading in my Bible for a different kind of sword? I continue to have a deep reverence for our military, but what came home to me that day on the bench was that God had called me to be a pastor, and for me, there was nothing more urgent than to preach the gospel. God doesn’t call every Christian to be a vocational minister. Rather, he calls us to be a gospel light in every corner of the earth. The lesson I want us to reflect on is this: Whatever God has called you to do for him, be it in the home, in the office, in the church, or on the street, do not forsake your calling.