I thought all pastors were appointed by God. Ordinary boy children grew up and one day, God “Himself” tapped them on the shoulder and whispered loud enough in their ears in case there were any doubt.
“You are a special one,” He might say. “I am “calling,” you to be a leader of those who love Me. Take thyself off to a particular Bible college where I will lead you, and then draw as many people as you can to go to your particular church building amongst dozens of church buildings within your city, and I will bless you. You will know I am blessing you as you count the number of people attending your church. There will be more following you than other pastors at other churches. That will be your sign that you are anointed. And you will know that all the other churches aren’t as blessed as yours is…because YOU are VERY special.” (I know…you don’t have to tell me…this is cynical).
When our pastor left to take another position in the organization, and after much prayer by the district office, a new man was appointed to take over our 1000 member church. Soon after I began to see cracks form in my belief that all pastors were appointed by God.
During one of his first Wednesday night services, our new pastor got up to “preach” the Word. His wife, who so far hadn’t seemed to want to involve herself much with her new parishioners, sat on the very front row. Quietly, we waited for our new pastor’s words.
“I absolutely couldn’t STAND my wife.”
He proceeded to talk about the past (how distant this past was, he didn’t say) and his negative feelings about his wife. They didn’t sound at all like they were left in the past, but instead, he sneered as he told us his reasons, as if he were right back in that place…not only remembering but still feeling all the worst feelings he had for her. I got the idea that not much had changed in the ensuing years. The fact that I can remember this incident in full detail some forty years later pays tribute to the shock I felt listening to him that night. What kind of sermon is this? Is there a Bible passage to be found anywhere?
Our new pastor’s wife sat stoically listening to him as he continued to bring up all the reasons why he (used?) to feel this way about her. He revealed a lot of embarrassing details about her, and I remember feeling sorry for his wife and thinking he would probably be in a lot of hot water after they got home. On the other hand, I thought, maybe pastors don’t ever argue with their wives. Maybe their lives are so anointed they don’t have disagreements like mere mortals. Maybe she will assume God told him to talk about these things. After all, didn’t the Holy Spirit have as much to do with sermon topics as the pastors themselves?
The sermon ended with him talking about how close he came to asking for a divorce but then a friend quickly and completely fixed his marriage by suggesting he bring her flowers every day. After that, all was heaven on earth between the two of them. There was a point to this sermon, but I can’t remember what it was. It was like one of those commercials that is so well done and entertaining that you can’t remember what product they were trying to get you to buy.
I wasn’t convinced they were still in love with each other, but they were very private people and there was no way to know for sure. I decided to toss any thoughts I had about their relationship out of my hard heart and move on. I still could not allow myself to think negative thoughts about people who God clearly brought into my life to lead and guide me towards the heavenly gates.
I began to hear grumbling within my friend group about strange things going on within the church leadership. It seemed the new pastor’s parents decided to move to town to support their son and become part of the (paid) leadership of the church as well. Many people weren’t comfortable with the nepotism of this move. The parents were appointed to be “elders” and were placed on the board. Some other men were asked to step down and new ones (friends called them “yes” men) replaced them. And the weirdness continued.
One day, it was announced that our church was opening our sanctuary up to another pastor in town who wanted to bring in two famous “prophets,” from across the country. It seemed their own church building wasn’t large enough to house everyone who would want to be there. I was excited. “Prophets!” Typically, in these meetings, God tells the man (prophet) something they couldn’t possible know about someone sitting on the pews. They then proclaim something (usually positive) about the person or their future…something good is going to happen. I was very excited and hoped God would tell them something about me.
I knew the prophets had been in town for a couple of days, and had been staying in the home of the pastor of the other church. The anticipation of the event built and I got to the church building early in order to get a good seat.
I noticed the difference immediately. People I didn’t recognize were already there, hours early, and as I looked for a place to sit, I noticed many paper signs on the seats that said, “Reserved,” apparently put there by members of the host church. After all, they seemed to think, “they” were the ones actually putting on the event. Why would we think we could just waltz in and sit down in our usual places? I also noticed dirty bare feet resting on the tops of the seats in front of them, and a dozen or more “Big Gulp” cups of soda slurped through straws and left on the floor. Ragtags, I thought.
“They are desecrating our sanctuary!” I tried to remind myself about what Jesus said about letting the “poor” sit in front. Okay…I thought. I hope the Lord will show the prophets where I’m sitting all the way back here.
Over a thousand people showed up that night. Many were in the gym, set up as an “overflow” area with television screens piping in the supernatural excitement of the event.
As the evening wore on, the prophets called out to many people in the “audience” As they stood up, they told them detailed information about themselves. The prophets seemed to knew certain birthdates, nicknames, and other personal details about the loss of jobs or other circumstances (that only their pastors knew about). Their “words from the Lord” were only for those from the host church members. Not once did they have anything to say about any one of the hundreds of people who attended our own church. I thought this was very strange and to me, revealing. I thought about where they could have gotten this information (other than from God whispering in their ears) and I remembered they had spent 48 hours with the pastor of the host church. Hmmmm. As I sat there, my mind began working overtime.
Near the end of the service, they asked for money and a lot of it. Then they “prophesied” that the Lord would be mighty angry if there was anyone there who did not believe what they had said. I kept my doubt to myself. After all, what if they were right and God was angry at me for my cynicism? My anxiety skyrocketed to a new level. Even if no one else knew what I was thinking, God would know. I had to shake off my sinful doubt toot suite!
I mean, obviously these were mighty men of God, right? After this meeting ended and the prophets flew back home (on our dime), our new pastor invited them back for a second meeting (again on our dime). Obviously, my dissonance was unfounded.
Again, I prayed that God would have one of the men give me a holy message. Again, I was disappointed. Not only did I not get a message from God, neither did anyone else. One of the prophets, sitting on a chair on the altar, stood up and told us that God told him he was not to do any prophesying at all. Instead, he was to share a poem God had given him in the middle of the night.
I remember thinking about all the people, some driving an hour or more to attend, who were going to be extremely disappointed in this announcement. We came for holy entertainment, and we were now being told that God himself was going to be a no show.
I don’t remember the words of the poem as much as I remember the cadence. It went something like this:
“Da da, da da, da da, you see.
Da da da, you see.
Da da, da da, da da, da, you see.
Da da, da da da, you see….”
etc.
I know, right?
We were all standing, to give honor to God because he gave this man prophet a poem. It had to be an important message…one worth standing for.
Surely, God could write a better poem than that. As soon as that thought popped into my mind, I rejected it out of hand! I mean God could strike me dead right here, right now! Or maybe the prophets can read my mind and will call me out in front of everyone! How embarrassing would that be? Then not only the prophets but all my friends and the horrible people from this other church would know I was a doubter! I forced myself to straighten up (literally) and fly right!
At the end of that very disappointing night, there was another call to give (a lot of) money and another warning (from God through the mouths of these men) that there was not to be any doubt in any of our minds or we’d be in the danger of hellfire.
In the days ahead I heard from very few people who had serious doubts about what had happened in those meetings. I continued to be afraid that God would punish me for my own doubt. Some months later, still afraid, I decided to write a letter to a type of watchdog organization headed by a man named Walter Martin. He had written a book called “The Kingdom of the Cults.” Dr. Martin’s mission was to filter out the b—-s—- that had found its way into church culture in America and call it out.
In my letter, I asked him what he thought of these two particular “men of God,” and I explained what had happened in the two meetings. About six months later, I received a personal letter from the organization.
It seems they were very aware of these two men and my story was being commonly reported by others who had sat in churches across America and had very similar experiences. They wrote me about the manipulation of tying the giving of money to a “word” of warning from the Lord, threatening people with the wrath of God if you had any doubts.
I felt vindicated, but just thought it was a problem with our new pastor. He was an outlier, I thought. I couldn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. But so many people, even friends of mine, had fallen for this stuff hook line and sinker. How could I think of myself as “above it all?” I may be smart but I’m not that smart.
Oh well, I’ll put it out of my mind. After all, what else have I got?
NEXT: The weird only gets weirder… stay tuned!
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