Eternally Grateful
Dear Eugene,
I still remember in the hot-headed naiveté of my youth, once I was asked to speak in front of the entire congregation of my church to "encourage" Sunday School attendance.
Then I was a (grossly unqualified) Sunday School teacher who had much self-righteous energy to spare. I ended up turning the "public announcement" into forcing everyone down a guilt-trip that ultimately achieved the double-whammy to further alienate those who found no value in going to Sunday School and also solidify the Pharisaic sentiment of others who were glad to have an angry, ignorant youth for their gramophone.
That was embarrassing, one of the biggest regrets of my life. My heart sinks every time I recall it. How I wish to erase those ten minutes from my life!
One person, in private, raised concern over my antic; but still, by and large he agreed with my sentiment. I knew nothing about the way of the Gospel then, and this dear brother knew nothing either. He was very kind, and I shall remember him always for confronting me out of love.
Yet both of us knew not the way of the Gospel and The Way that is Christ then. No pastor approached me about my self-righteous indignation, my sin.
It was not my "approach" that needed "adjustment"; it was my soul that needed pastoring. But no pastor approached me. In fact they drummed me on with their acquiescence.
I was riding high then. I swear I was able to recite the first section of Lewis' "Mere Christianity" by heart (I still can). I held my new-born daughter in my laps while exhorting my students about the Bible in face of a then recent spectacular tragedy, the 9/11 terrorist attack. I was eager and earnest to go where no other Sunday School teacher was able or willing to go. I was dabbling in "every wind of doctrine." I was a mess.
And no one talked to me about my sin. No pastor. No elder in the church. No fellow Sunday School teacher. No parent. I was a motherless child raised by hypocrisy.
I so very much wanted to please God, but God was not pleased. He let me went my way for a while. Yet he didn't let me go. He knew me down to the very last hair that I shed and loves me to the end.
Pastor Pete, your "Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places" is the most influential book in my life. I must have read it no less than ten times cover to cover. I am losing count, no kidding. That long time ago, how I knew God didn't let me go was when he sent you to become my pastor and in particular sent me this book. I would have been in hell in more than one sense and more than one way if not for your book, and probably bringing my family and community with me. My heart skips a beat just by thinking how I was standing on the edge of a precipice, how close I was to great destruction.
So much of today's Alex is shaped by your pastoring, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Even last week, when I was enormously discouraged in my church ministry, I heard your voice. Sometimes in a day you would call me back to God once, twice, thrice! You are one gentle tough pastor.
Forever in debt, eternally grateful, Alex
I still remember in the hot-headed naiveté of my youth, once I was asked to speak in front of the entire congregation of my church to "encourage" Sunday School attendance.
Then I was a (grossly unqualified) Sunday School teacher who had much self-righteous energy to spare. I ended up turning the "public announcement" into forcing everyone down a guilt-trip that ultimately achieved the double-whammy to further alienate those who found no value in going to Sunday School and also solidify the Pharisaic sentiment of others who were glad to have an angry, ignorant youth for their gramophone.
That was embarrassing, one of the biggest regrets of my life. My heart sinks every time I recall it. How I wish to erase those ten minutes from my life!
One person, in private, raised concern over my antic; but still, by and large he agreed with my sentiment. I knew nothing about the way of the Gospel then, and this dear brother knew nothing either. He was very kind, and I shall remember him always for confronting me out of love.
Yet both of us knew not the way of the Gospel and The Way that is Christ then. No pastor approached me about my self-righteous indignation, my sin.
It was not my "approach" that needed "adjustment"; it was my soul that needed pastoring. But no pastor approached me. In fact they drummed me on with their acquiescence.
I was riding high then. I swear I was able to recite the first section of Lewis' "Mere Christianity" by heart (I still can). I held my new-born daughter in my laps while exhorting my students about the Bible in face of a then recent spectacular tragedy, the 9/11 terrorist attack. I was eager and earnest to go where no other Sunday School teacher was able or willing to go. I was dabbling in "every wind of doctrine." I was a mess.
And no one talked to me about my sin. No pastor. No elder in the church. No fellow Sunday School teacher. No parent. I was a motherless child raised by hypocrisy.
I so very much wanted to please God, but God was not pleased. He let me went my way for a while. Yet he didn't let me go. He knew me down to the very last hair that I shed and loves me to the end.
Pastor Pete, your "Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places" is the most influential book in my life. I must have read it no less than ten times cover to cover. I am losing count, no kidding. That long time ago, how I knew God didn't let me go was when he sent you to become my pastor and in particular sent me this book. I would have been in hell in more than one sense and more than one way if not for your book, and probably bringing my family and community with me. My heart skips a beat just by thinking how I was standing on the edge of a precipice, how close I was to great destruction.
So much of today's Alex is shaped by your pastoring, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Even last week, when I was enormously discouraged in my church ministry, I heard your voice. Sometimes in a day you would call me back to God once, twice, thrice! You are one gentle tough pastor.
Forever in debt, eternally grateful, Alex
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