Readings: Psalm 43, 1 Thessalonians 2:9-13, Matthew 23:1-12, Genesis 12:1-8
Preached at Bridgehampton Presbyterian Church, NY, November 5, 2023
Last week I was explaining how there have been three questions that I have been asked throughout my ministry. Firstly, “How did you come to faith? Secondly, “What made you want to be a minister?” and thirdly, “What made you decide to come to America?”
Last Sunday I was sharing how through an unlikely combination of Rock Music, Youth Retreats, chocolate bars and the unmerited grace of God I came to be embraced by the Christian Faith in my late teens. This week “What made you want to be a minister?” My hope is that as I share how God called me, that you’ll consider where God may be calling you.
Returning to where I left off last week. As a teenager I went on a Christian youth retreat about freedom. Two friends had prayed for me that the freedom of Jesus Christ would become a reality in my life, and it surely did! I knew life could not be the same again. It felt a bit like when you are on a jet plane, and you zoom down the runway and the power pushes you back in your seat. I was starting over. I knew the reality of Jesus Christ. I knew that God was my Father. I knew that the Holy Spirit was doing something inside of me that had not happened before. But where was it leading?
The answer? Downhill - fast. I went back with my newfound Christian brothers and sisters to the reality of my non-Christian friends. I tried to tell some of them of my newfound faith. They laughed. I told them that I’d changed. They didn’t believe me. I can’t say I’m surprised. At that stage of my life my language was not as choice as it should have been, my alcohol intake was more than was healthy and I probably resembled the guy you really hoped your daughter would never bring home for dinner. Inside I felt different, but truly I had a lot to learn.
I started to behave inconsistently. I would act one way with the folk at church, another way when hanging out with the non-church friends. It didn’t feel right. I wanted all this freedom stuff, but I didn’t want it to cost me anything. I liked the good feelings but wanted a good time. After a while it hit me. I wasn’t flying anymore. I didn’t know if the plane had landed, if it was still hovering around or had crashed out beyond repair.
What was going on? God was dealing with me patiently - in God’s time. Showing me new things I had yet to realize. Showing me ways, I could serve God. Showing me how I was free to do anything, but that not everything was good for me. Showing me that if I was serious about having the sort of freedom Jesus expressed then it demanded deep commitment.
I mentioned last week a verse from Galatians 5. “You were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature, rather serve one another in love.” It was as though, through God’s Spirit, God was teaching me the deeper implications of that text. It’s one that is hard to really live by because the nature of Christian freedom is so radically different to that which our culture tells us being free is all about. It is freedom that is found through obedience rather than through doing as we please.
I have been asked “What made you want to be a minister?” and the answer to that question has its roots in my experience of coming to faith. For me the measure of my discipleship was my willingness to act upon those things I felt God was calling me to do. Those who heard the call of Jesus also heard the command to follow. This brings me to another scripture which has shaped my life. Genesis 12:1 “Now the Lord said to Abram, Go Forth.” Hearing the call to “Go Forth” and acting upon the command were not the same thing.
I’d like you to picture me as a 19 year old. I know that may be difficult now I’ve reached this stage in my life! But indulge me. I’ve been struggling with how to be a Christian and keep true to my beliefs. I’ve been spending less time with my non-Christian friends and more time with those who encouraged my faith. After wasting a lot of time in High School and landing in a dead-end job stocking shelves in a supermarket, I’ve been back to college to obtain some qualifications and I am now working on a Government funded scheme.
The work involves helping elderly and disabled people with their gardening and working out in the countryside maintaining footpaths. I’m working with a mixed bag of people, including some young offenders whom I have become friends with and I’m even sharing my beliefs with them. Better still the hours are flexible, so I’m able to give a lot of time to what was becoming my real passion… the band.
Coming from Liverpool I cherished a dream that, like one of the Beatles, whose music I grew up with, I could make it through life writing songs and playing music. Like Jake or Elwood from the ‘The Blues Brothers,’ I was “on a mission from God”, because this was no ordinary band. I was playing in, but a gospel Rock Band and we didn’t want to be famous throughout the world, we wanted to save the world.
Never mind that the church folk said we were playing the Devils music whilst some of the un-churched said, “We like your music, but why do you have to keep bringing Jesus into it?” God was opening doors. There is talk of record contracts, festival appearances, slots on prime-time T.V.
To top it all I am nineteen, going on twenty and I’ve fallen in love. As I shared last time, one of the reasons I was attracted to church was that some of the girls looked good. Now I was engaged to one of them. I have my wife’s permission to say that because it was her and after over 45 years of marriage, I still think she’s lovely.
So, for a near 20 year old lad things couldn’t be much better. Great job, great band, great fiancé, great expectations. Yet throughout it all, when I stopped to listen for long enough, there was this little voice, somewhere deep inside that said, “You should go into the ministry.” Whenever I became aware of it, I would say “But Lord I have my ministry, my work, my music, my relationships. I’m doing fine.”
Genesis 12:1 “Now the Lord said to Abram, Go forth....”
I wonder how many times the Lord told Abram to ‘go forth’ before he went? Over the next two years my comfortable world fell apart. The band, that mission from God, broke up. Yvonne and I set our wedding date and obtained a loan on this lovely corner house in a nice area of town near the sea. The week before we were due to be married the bank informed us the loan was no longer available.
The day before we were due to be married the works manager called me into the office. ‘Got a problem’ he said. ‘According to the governmental guidelines, we must pay you a higher wage as a married person, and we don’t have that cash in the budget. If you get married, you are out of a job.’ Ouch!
Yvonne and I went ahead and were married. That scripture about Abram and Sarai leaving their Fathers house and going out not knowing where they were heading took on a special significance. I had lost my job, I’d lost my place to live, and my musical dreams were shattered. The frightening thing was that I’d been trying so hard to do the right thing, to do what I thought God was calling me to do, except of course for that little voice about the ministry.
I learnt however that when God is on your case, things work out. Against all the odds a place became available at a ludicrously cheap rent just a few doors down from where we’d first tried to purchase a home. Yvonne still had her work and after a while I managed to land a position in the Civil Service. A few months after I was dismissed from that Government scheme the whole project collapsed. If we’d had a loan to pay back on that corner house, we could have ended up in serious debt.
And the band? Well, sometimes there is a very thin dividing line between “Doing the will of God” and “Doing what I’d like the will of God to be.” Sure, we had a ministry and were breaking new ground. But God was saying “go forth.”
There were reasons why I didn’t want to be a minister. In Great Britain most of the clergy I knew didn’t seem at all interested in the things that excited me. They never seemed particularly relevant. And as Groucho Marx once said, I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to be part of any organization that would have me as a member.
After we were married Yvonne and I moved from our hometown and began attending a church that had been the Welsh Presbyterian Church, but had become an Elim Pentecostal Church. We became pretty active, and they even allowed me to be their volunteer youth leader for a while. One night they had a youth mission rally. During the prayer time, I was sitting in the pew, head down, eyes closed, not really seeking God for anything, and there started to come over me an overwhelming sense that I should offer myself as a candidate for the ministry of the Welsh Presbyterian Church. There was no audible voice, no blinding light or messages from the pulpit or sky, just an incredibly intense feeling that this was something that I had to act upon and until I did there would be no peace in my life.
After the service I went to see the preacher. I told him, “I think I’ve had a call to the ministry.” “PRAISE THE LORD!” he said. I added “Of the Welsh Presbyterian Church.” Now, I did not know this at the time, but the Welsh Presbyterians and the Elim Pentecostals hadn’t exactly had a positive history of good relationships. The pastor said, “I think we better talk about this.”
After what seemed like an endless evening as he explained to me the errors of Welsh Presbyterianism, I gained the impression that, in his opinion, Presbyterians were only slightly to the left of the Satan. The strange thing was, the more he talked, the louder the voice inside of me became telling me to offer myself as a candidate for the Welsh Presbyterian ministry.
I thought I better tell Yvonne. “Yvonne” I said (Using that voice young husbands use when they tell their wives something that they are not sure how they will react to), “Yvonne, I think I’ve had a call to be a Presbyterian Minister.” Yvonne replied, “Well God hasn’t said anything to me about it!” She was about as enthusiastic at the prospect of being a minister’s wife as I was about being a minister.
We arranged to see the late Rev Barrie Redmore, the Presbyterian minister who had baptized Yvonne, confirmed myself and married us. He listened carefully and then told us to and come back in a year’s time if I still felt a sense of calling!
A year later the feeling was stronger than ever. The process of becoming a candidate for the Presbyterian ministry was set in motion. At the age of 23, after taking nearly five years to come to terms with the notion that God may be calling me to the ministry, I finally went forth to Aberystwyth, on the coast of Mid-Wales, where I attended seminary.
So, to answer the question, “What made you want to be a minister?” the fact is that I never wanted to be a minister, but it became a question of obedience to what God was showing me. These days as I look back to, if you include seminary days, nearly 45 years of ministry on two continents, I am forced to swallow my pride and admit that God knows best.
As I said at the start of this brief series about “This is my story, This is my song,” my aim in sharing these things is not to put myself on a pedestal, but simply share with you how God has worked in the life of one of God’s reluctant disciples, with the prayer that you will discover in your own life the awesome possibilities that open up to you through giving your life to be lived under the Lordship of Jesus Christ and through trusting in God to lead you, through the work of the Holy Spirit and the guidance of God’s Word.
Next time “What made you decide to come to America?”
To God be the Glory. Amen.
The Reverend Adrian J. Pratt B.D.
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