(David) I spent most of my first thirteen years in ministry viewing my church's board as my primary opponent. The church I arrived at in 1988 had a mixed-sex administrative board. We managed to change it into an elder board three years later, and into a male leadership group two years after that. But its spiritual depth never kept pace with its change in name or makeup.
More significant to the life of that church was another change that occurred the year we went from an administrative board to an elder board, the arrival of Gary Knapp, a young Bible college graduate who became my half-time assistant pastor in 1992. Gary turned out to be a brother born for adversity. We went through conflict together, sacrificed salary together, prayed through danger together, and eventually in partnership with several dear men saw the glory of God revealed in the establishment of Christ the Word Presbyterian Church.
Today Gary serves a PCA church in Delaware, and though I miss him, I no longer need his courage in battle the way I once did. I'm grateful to God for the unity we enjoy as a session at Christ the Word. Nor am I at a loss for brave men to inspire me. Everywhere I look in Christ the Word I'm encouraged by faithful and courageous men--and nowhere more so than in the officers of our church. I sometimes think God made my first thirteen years painful and conflict-fraught to teach me to appreciate His blessings in these latter years.
But speaking of courage, a few examples of pastoral bravery from my years with Gary...
1. Summers were seasons of gossip at that church. The Puritan saying, "Idle hands are the devil's workship" rang especially true in summertime when programs slowed and gossip and intrigue multiplied. This was never more true than during my weeks of vacation. Someone would invariably stir up the pot whenever I was away.
Upon returning from vacation one year, I was informed by Gary that a middle-aged divorcee had slandered me throughout the church. Gary wanted to know what we should do about it. I was reluctant to confront. Dealing with gossip and slander is always difficult, but it's especially so when you're the focus. I opted to ignore it. Events altered my decision, however, when later that week the woman called and asked us to help with a chore at her house.
Gary and I took the call as a sign we should confront. And since Gary had been the one others had gone to with the slander, he volunteered to lead the discussion. We did the chore. As we were preparing to leave, Gary brought up the slander. With obvious embarrassment the woman struggled through a half-baked denial. Gary had her dead to rights; she was so clearly lying to salvage pride that I wanted to accept her excuse and go. We all knew what was going on, I saw no point in pushing further. But the denial seemed to incense Gary. Rather than move on, he began listing each of her accusations against me and after each accusation he asked if she denied saying this as well. I'll never forget his final statement, "Sally (not her real name), I heard that you even said that David can't walk right. Is that true?"
I wanted to crawl out of the house. I've never seen a more systematic demolition of an excuse, and I realized that day that I'd met my match in pastoral courage in Gary.
2. We were leaving a hospital. Inside we'd been forbidden to visit a dear woman in a coma by family members who harbored bitterness toward us.
Walking to our car, I heard my name called from behind me. I turned to see the woman's 6'4" son running toward me, anger written across his face. A split-second before he arrived Gary stepped in front of me, spoke his name loudly and asked him what he wanted. The son muttered something about us never trying to see his mother again, then retreated toward the hospital.
Later that afternoon I asked Gary why he'd stepped in front of me. "Because he was going to punch you," Gary said. I was equally convinced that I had been about to be punched and that Gary's intervention had saved me.
3. Things were coming to a head in our confrontation with our previous denomination over its dalliance with open theism and inclusivism. The elders had determined to close the church, return the building to the denomination and begin a new church.
But opposition was mounting among certain long-time members the church. And it seemed that the opposition always knew exactly what the elders were thinking and planning--so much so that for a time we even stopped meeting at the church and held session meetings at an elder's office instead.
One day, visiting an opponent's home, we were warned that our opponents had tapes of our plans. Gary's and my eyes widened. When we returned to the church we tore apart the attic above our offices. Sure enough, there they were: two microphones attached to tape recorders inserted into light fixtures in our offices. That discovery led to a changing of the church locks and a series of very difficult confrontations which went on for weeks.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Ministry lacking in courage isn't real ministry. I sometimes think it would be good to administer a test of physical courage alongside the theological exams for ministerial ordination. Physical and spiritual courage were prerequisites of the Old Testament prophetic calling--and of the apostolic calling in the New. Nor, I fear, have we reached a day in the life of the American church when physical courage is no longer necessary in ministers of the Word.
I thank God for the courage of Gary--and for that of my current partners in ministry, Mike Ahrendt, Andrew Dionne, Robert Forney, Ben James Sr., Harold Guthrie, Mike Vrlenich, Matthew Miklovic and Scott Killy.
