It was early Sunday morning, October 14, 1956 that Janice, John Yost, a
university fellow student, and I drove 30 miles over a windy, dusty gravel road
from the campus of Washington State University to two rural churches in the
ridge-farming country of the Idaho panhandle. John Yost and I were
seminary-bound seniors at Washington State University, whom the district
superintendent asked to be student pastors in Kendrick and Julietta, Idaho –
small country churches only five miles apart without an assigned full-time
pastor. John and I had completed our studies for a Local Preacher’s License, so
the bishop was authorized to appoint us to serve the congregations. John (a
college administrator) and his wife, Linda, now live in Peoria, IL. He phoned me
last night and we conjured up warm memories of those initial pastoral
experiences.
It still seems unbelievable to me that God saw fit to call me into the
ordained ministry! I have called myself one most unlikely. I was raised
in an unchurched, very dysfunctional family of origin. I was being academically
trained for a scientific career – pharmacy. Janice’s father was a minister, my
first pastor and spiritual father; and Janice later confessed that she was
convinced as a youth that she had had enough of living in a minister’s home to
last a lifetime! She had vowed never to marry a minister! Well, she didn’t; she
married a pharmacy student. God saw to it Janice kept her vow, and then
God called me into the ministry! God is cunning indeed.
How did that call happen? I had just finished my junior year at the School
of Pharmacy at WSU. Janice and I had been married a year. Her parents traveled
to Pullman, WA for a visit. Over lunch one day her parents asked about my
studies, Janice’s work, and my extra-curricular activities in campus student
Christian activities. He must have observed the animation and delight with which
I shared those experiences. Then he asked the question that triggered the
proverbial “ton of bricks” to descend upon me: “John, have you ever thought
of going into the ministry?” “No!” was my immediate reply. Out of the corner
of my eye, I saw Janice grimace (maybe “cringe” is more apt). Her dad simply
left it there with encouragement to think and pray about it. He told us what he
saw in me to be gifts and graces for ministry. I wrestled with the decision for
a month or more. Janice and I had some long discussions. One of her worst fears
was that I might become an absentee husband and father, and that unrealistic
congregational expectations that had been put upon her as a minister’s child
could be put on her as a minister’s wife. I made a commitment to honor her
concerns and do all in my power to prevent her worst fears from becoming a
reality.
It seemed important for me to seek confirmation of the call. I spoke with a
number of people, who knew me and whose judgment I respected. The confirmation
was there. Though when I talked with the dean of the School of Pharmacy, who was
an active Methodist himself, he tried to dissuade me, saying, “John, we need
good Christians in the drug business.” Of course, back in those days “drug
business” had only a positive, lawful connotation! I struggled with guilt. A
hometown neighborhood pharmacist, who knew me since I was about five years old
and gave me a job during my high school years, was awaiting my return to take
over managing his store since his health was failing. The letter I wrote to
Walter Armstrong about my decision was one of the most difficult letters I’ve
ever written. He was gracious in his reply.
At the start of this extraordinary journey I immediately identified with the
prophet Jeremiah, who said, “Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak,
for I am only a boy. But the Lord said to me: do not say ‘I am only a boy;’ for
you shall go to all to whom I send you and you shall speak whatever I command
you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you…” This assurance of God’s
promise to always be with me has been a constant comfort in moments of
difficulty, danger, and self-doubt. I am persuaded that one doesn’t become an
ordained minister because one wants to but because one must.
Though I continue to have a love for science, in my heart of hearts it has
seemed from the beginning that ministry is where, as Frederick Buechner puts it,
my “deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger” meet. So, fifty years ago
yesterday my journey of pastoral ministry began.
What a journey it has been! What a calling! Many times I’ve been challenged
to do the near impossible. It’s been said that being a pastor is like being a
stray dog at a whistlers’ convention. Everyone in sight is simultaneously
beckoning you to come to them. Whether you serve a church of 200 members or a
thousand members, you have as many bosses. Everybody has a notion about what the
pastor should be doing. I learned very early in ministry that I can’t please
everyone. I must be true to what I believe God is calling me to do and to be,
and I must be true to myself.
Another learning along the journey has been this: parish ministry is about
constant un-finished business. The office “in tray” is always full. This means
ministry involves 10-12 days, six (sometimes 7) days a week. Unless I was out of
town on vacation, I felt I was on call 24/7. There were times when a vacation
was interrupted by a crisis in a parishioner’s life. There have been the usual
deadlines: sermons to write, classes to prepare, hospital and home visits to
make, administrative details, crisis intervention and emergencies to respond to,
pastoral counseling, premarital counseling and weddings, grief counseling and
funerals, conference, district, and community volunteer work. You can imagine
the amusement I felt when, some years ago at a Christian vocation conference for
youth, a college student suggested to me that a pastor has an easy
one-day-a-week Sunday job! I replied, “Yes, but it’s a 60-hour day!” Each
pastoral task requires tremendous focus and time management skills. She or he
must be a self-starter; highly self-motivated. What I’ve enjoyed in this
multi-faceted job description is the variety of ways to serve people. Seldom are
any two days alike.
Having something meaningful and relevant to say every week from the pulpit
is a great challenge. When I preached my first sermon on October 14, 1956, I was
frightened by the prospect of running out of sermon ideas within months or a few
years. I discovered along the way that I can’t live along enough to exhaust the
topics of the Bible and how to apply them in daily living! There is something G.
K. Chesterton, the great British preacher, once said that has kept me on my
toes: “Ministers would make good martyrs. They’re so dry they would burn
quickly.” Certainly that cannot be said of our current pastor, John Auer!
When a minister accepts the task of the prophet, he or she is called to be
faithful, not popular. You win enemies as well as friends. Jeremiah, for
example, found that out when he dared to be a spokesman for God’s judgment
against the immorality and injustices of his countrymen. When we clergy feel
called of God to be prophetic, we would do well to be sure of our facts, speak
the truth in love, and be fearless of the consequences. Over a half a century I
have sought to take seriously the words of Isaiah that Jesus applied to the
purpose of his public ministry: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he
has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim
release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed
go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” There have been times
when I sought to be faithful to the biblical imperative to do justice regarding
the plight of migrant farm workers or the specter of racism or our nation’s
propensity to rush to war. In the process I have taken my lumps. But I have
found refuge in the words of Jesus: “Blessed are you when people revile you
and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my
account…for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you”
(Matthew 5:11,12). Ministers of the Gospel are called to offer a balance between
com-forting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable!
If the ordained ministry is a near impossible job, why stay with it?!
Speaking for myself, God will not let me off the hook. It is only by the grace
of God that I can accomplish anything of lasting value, offering Christ,
offering spiritual sustenance. It is indeed heart-warming to watch people change
through a relationship with Jesus Christ and grow spiritually. It is a wonderful
privilege to baptize and walk with others through the critical moments of their
lives. It is a profound joy to channel God’s love, mercy, peace, and hope to
others. God has blessed me with wonderful churches to serve over the years,
including this one. Each has challenged me to grow as a person and a pastor in
different ways.
I’ve been privileged to serve the wider human family through overseas
mission projects, chaplaincy for the Nevada Legislature, confidant to two Nevada
governors, volunteer chaplaincy in the Nevada state prison and Kairos prison
ministry, helping to start a child abuse prevention program, establishing a
community soup kitchen, helping to start a rehabilitation program for men who
have battered their wives and children, serving as a police and firefighter
chaplain, serving on the Nevada Juvenile Concerns Com-mission and the Nevada
Commission for a White House Conference on Children and Youth, and many other
avenues for community service too numerous to add here. I really feel blessed
with the many opportunities that have come my way.
This leads me to an important point: in the presence of a shortage of
ordained min-isters, I want to encourage you to consider the possibility that
God may be calling to ministry you or someone you know who exhibits the
appropriate gifts and graces. Many who enroll in seminary are considering
full-time Christian service as a second career. Not all are fresh out of
college. The need for ministers is especially great in isolated rural
communities such as we have scattered in Eastern Nevada, ministers who
understand and appreciate small town rural life. John Auer or any other
minister, me included, would welcome the opportunity to explore ministry with
anyone who feels a Divine nudge. I’m sure John Auer and certain members of this
congregation were helpful guides for Ann- Mary MacLeod, who is now following her
call as a seminary student.
Finally I want to remind you that you are already ministers by
virtue of your baptism. We ordained persons have a “specialized ministry.” All
baptized Christians have a “generalized ministry.” You are out there in the
trenches every day and your ministry of love, service, and justice in the name
and spirit of Jesus Christ is crucial. Your occupation can be a Christian
vocation, too, where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger intersect.
This past summer as I was approaching this fifty-year milestone, I reflected
poetically on this amazing journey. My poem is printed as a Meditation in
today’s worship bulletin. I want to share the closing stanza with you now:
The Rev. John H. Emerson
