The Day I Became A Pastor

John & Lee RushtonThis article is lovingly dedicated to the memory of my friend John Rushton and to his dear wife Lee.  Lee, you and John suffered much these past four years, but never forget, God has walked this road with you, and God will lead you home.  I love you, and continue to pray for you daily.

Your friend & pastor,


Note to article:  This article was written in January, 2007.  Since then, my friend John has past away.  Please remember Lee in your prayers. 

I was called on August 8th, 1988.  But, it wasn’t until the fall of 2004 that I became a pastor.

November 2002, my family and I began to serve our first church as pastor.  I had served in various places, doing various things (youth pastor, collegiate pastor, small group pastor), but never “the pastor.”  Antioch Baptist is a rural church averaging about 75 in worship.  It is located six miles outside of Lafayette in Chambers County, Alabama. 

My family and I lived across the street in a small brick home with white trim, a carport, water pump, and a storage building.  Rolling hills, cow pastures, and the occasional wild turkey painted the view with grace as the pines grew tall and nothing but the azure sky is seen against the green of the trees. 

Small communities are amazing.  If you drive past them on your way to another place, they draw no more attention than a speck of dust as it drifts through your home.  But, if you take a moment, focus a little, you can see that speck not drifting, but dancing.  It glides on the currents, dipping, diving, soaring, and then it is out of sight.  Small towns too have their own cadence their own waltz.  Continue reading