My Faith Story Is the Story of God’s Faithfulness
SCRIPTURE: Various
SPEAKER: Michael P. Andrus
DATE: December 7, 2003
This is going to be an unusual Sunday as far as the sermon is concerned. A few days after announcing my resignation on November 9, I met with our whole staff to share with them something about my spiritual journey over the past 30 years. Several encouraged me to share the same story with the whole congregation. They said it helped them see that our move back to Wichita was part of a bigger picture and enabled them to process these events better. I hope that will be your experience this morning.
If you’re a visitor, you’re walking into a family chat, so it may not be easy for you to understand the context. But I hope you, too, will find some spiritual benefit as you hear about God’s work in one ordinary person’s life. I want to use as my launching point a brief but familiar passage of Scripture from the prophet Jeremiah:
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:22-24)
My life is a testimony to the faithfulness of God–not in stupendous, miraculous, earth-shattering ways, but in nevertheless discernible ways–the still small voice here, unusual timing there, the divine fingerprint everywhere. I’m going to start from the beginning but focus most of my remarks on my ministry life.
I was born in 1944 in Dallas, Texas while my father was in seminary there. I was the third child in a very poor family; we lived in a housing project, which today is covered by a parking lot of Baylor Hospital. My father worked a secular job and also pastored a little Baptist church while he was a full-time seminary student. Upon graduation, when I was two, he accepted a teaching job at Midwest Bible and Missionary Institute, located in the heart of St. Louis, near Vandeventer and Washington. The five of us moved into a one-room apartment, and I mean one room. There was no bedroom, no kitchen, no closet, no bathroom–there was a bathroom down the hall which served for a half-dozen apartments.
My father was paid $50 a month for teaching and was charged $50 a month for room and board for the family (we ate our meals in the college cafeteria), so he took a second job as pastor of a church in Maryland Heights to make ends meet. When my younger sister was born, our family of six moved on up–to a one-bedroom flat a block away. My brother and I slept in a Murphy bed that was pulled out of the hall closet at night. As inadequate as that apartment was, it was a sacred place to me, because it was there that I accepted Christ at the age of 5, kneeling beside my father’s desk in the front room. Even at that young age I was convicted of my sin (and mom tells me I had plenty to be convicted of!). I have never really doubted my salvation since that time. I have doubted my own commitment at times, but I’ve never doubted that Jesus was holding on to me.
Life was dangerous in that area of St. Louis and the schools were poor (I attended Marquette Elementary), so we were blessed when five years later my dad received a call to pastor Old Orchard Chapel in Webster Groves. We were able to move into a parsonage on a quiet street where people didn’t even lock their doors. At first, we couldn’t sleep at night because there weren’t any sirens. Some dear people in here today were my friends in that church 50 years ago–Art Kurtz, Leslie Harris, Richard White, Bill MacKeen, and Kathy Goggin, to name a few. Meanwhile my father continued with the Bible College, serving in a number of different capacities until in 1956 he was chosen President. Since that was more than a full-time job, he resigned the church and we moved into a rental house on the wrong side of the tracks in north Webster.
In the summer before I started high school a wealthy and elderly widower friend of my father’s died and left his entire estate to the college. In his will he stipulated that the President’s family should move into his completely furnished home on a private street in Clayton–the address was 23 Arundel Place. So, in 14 years I had gone from a one-room apartment at Washington and Vandeventer to a beautiful home in Clayton–with Persian rugs, China and silver in the cabinets, a TV (which we had never had), and, most importantly, the privilege of attending one of the finest high schools in the country at the time. I had been in a lot of trouble at Webster Jr. High, but the behavioral problems all disappeared overnight when I was faced with the academic challenges of Clayton High. I had never been happier.
However, just a week or two before my senior year, the Bible College merged with Kansas City Bible College, and my dad was elected President of the new school, named Calvary Bible College. So, we had to move across the state, and I had to transfer to Shawnee Mission North High School. The one silver lining in that traumatic event was that I started my senior year living on the college campus in K.C. because my mom was still back in St. Louis trying to sell the house. The first night of new student orientation I met a new student named Jan Schuessler and began dating her the next week, even though I was still in high school. Three years later we got married and we graduated together in 1966.
Since my father and brother had gone to Dallas Seminary ahead of me, I went there, too. Six years later, after earning graduate degrees from both the Seminary and Southern Methodist University, my dad hired me to teach at Calvary Bible College, fulfilling a life-long dream. Our son Eddie, who had been born at the same hospital as I in Dallas, was 2 years old and became almost a mascot to the students. This is also when my connection with First Free in Wichita began–in a very strange way.
It was the Fall of 1972, and Jan and I were attending a church in North K.C. One day the pastor called and said he was going to be out of town the following Sunday and wanted to know if I would preach in his place. I said I would. It was only my third live sermon ever, but I worked hard on it and God seemed to bless the effort. There was a visitor in church that morning–the director of Campus Crusade in K.C. I never met him and today don’t even recall his name, but a few days later I got a call from him telling me that he really enjoyed the sermon and wondered if I would be willing to preach it again the following Sunday at First Evangelical Free Church in Wichita. I had never heard of the Free Church, but he assured me it was not a cult, despite its weird name. Since Jan’s family lived in Wichita, I agreed.
I showed up that next Sunday morning at the church in Wichita about a half hour early, introduced myself to the first person I met, mentioned that I was preaching that morning, and asked with whom I should speak. The greeter informed me that she was the Pastor’s wife, that her husband was on a hunting trip, and that Steve Clinton was substituting for her husband that morning. Well, I didn’t know who Steve Clinton was, and she didn’t know who I was. Furthermore, she had never heard of the guy who had asked me to drive to Wichita to preach. So, I assumed there had been a royal mix-up, asked her where the sanctuary was, and went in and sat down to attend the service.
What had happened is that this Campus Crusade director in K.C. had wanted Steve Clinton, who worked for Crusade in Wichita, to attend a conference in K.C. that weekend. When Steve told him he was scheduled to preach at First Free, the director said, “I know someone who could be a great substitute for you–I just heard him last Sunday.” They cleared it with the Church Chairman, who happened to know of my father, but no one had told the pastor’s wife. Well, about two minutes before the service was to begin, the Elder Chairman rushed up to me, apologized for the confusion, said he had been looking for me, and asked me to come into the office for a quick word of prayer.
I preached that morning and immediately fell in love with the church and its people. The next time I was in Wichita I stopped by to meet the pastor. He was very gracious, told me the sermon had been well received, and asked if I would come and preach again the next time he was going to be out of town. In fact, for the next two years I became his regular substitute.
I mentioned that teaching at Calvary Bible College was a dream come true, but the dream only lasted two years. My father had a heart attack in the Spring of 1973, had bypass surgery, and had to resign. A legalistic independent Baptist pastor who was on the Board got control of the college, and soon I and the rest of the theology faculty–all seven of us–were out of work, having been branded as liberals (that must sound funny to some of you!). I was hired immediately by Dr. Ken Gangel at Miami Christian College and moved my family to Florida in the summer of 1974.
We had been in Miami for about two weeks when one of the elders at the Wichita church called up and said, “I’m going to be in Miami on my way to a medical mission in Haiti, and I wondered if you could drive to the airport and have lunch with me.” I said, “Sure.” (He knew a preacher is always a sucker for a free lunch, even if he must drive across Miami to get it). At lunch he informed me that Pastor Hauser had just resigned and wanted to know if I would consider moving back to Wichita and becoming the pastor of First Free. Now this was two weeks after I had moved my family 1700 miles in a Ryder Truck! Of course, I told him no. Besides, I made it clear to him that I was a teacher, not a pastor.
That Christmas, 1974, Jan and I and Eddie drove home from Miami to Kansas in our little VW Beetle. We first went to K.C. to see my folks, then to Wichita to see Jan’s folks. We were there over a Sunday, so we went to church at First Free. The same elder asked us if we would come over to his house after the evening service for some fellowship and desert. When we got there, we found the whole Search Committee! I’m talking ambush! They started putting the full-court press on us, and we agreed to at least begin to pray about it.
The reason we were even open to considering this major change of career was due to another very strange event in our lives, which became just another sign of God’s faithfulness. When we moved to Miami in the summer of 1974, we had stretched our resources and bought a little house in Hollywood, FL. But when our first paycheck was due, we received in its place a note that said, “The college is having major financial problems and is unable to make payroll. Pray for us.” I thought, “Pray for you? What about me?” Immediately I began to look for a part-time job. I saw a help-wanted sign on the bulletin board in the library about a new church that needed a part-time preacher. For Sunday morning, Sunday evening, Wednesday night, and all the funerals (that can be a lot in Miami!), they were willing to pay $65 a week! Well, that would put food on the table, so I agreed to try it.
Even after the college began to meet payroll, I continued preaching at that little church; in fact, as time went on, I began to find more fulfillment teaching the Bible at that little church than I did teaching logic and philosophy and theology at the College. So, when the Wichita church continued to pursue us, we finally accepted their call, loaded up another truck in July of 1975, and returned to Kansas–exactly a year after moving to Miami!
Pastoring full-time was a major adjustment for me, to say nothing of the adjustment for Jan, but the people in Wichita were extremely gracious. The church began to grow rapidly–so much so that within a year I approached the Elders about starting a daughter church on the west side of Wichita. We hired an associate pastor to be the church planter, and in the Fall of 1978 West EFC began services in an elementary school. (Just two weeks ago Jan and I had the privilege of being present at the 25th anniversary of that church–with 600 people in a beautiful facility. They, in turn, are making plans to daughter their first church in Goddard, KS, which means that will be my first granddaughter church).
Four years later we launched East EFC, with another associate pastor we hired for that purpose. Last March I had the privilege of speaking at the 20th anniversary of that church. In 1983 we began an inner-city ministry that would eventually turn into a third daughter church. I began to think, “I’d sure like to plant a church. That would be a lot more exciting than just being the senior pastor of the mother church.” God was beginning to prepare us for something new and exciting.
In June of 1983 we drove to Gettysburg, PA for the EFCA National Conference. On our way back to Wichita, we stopped in St. Louis so I could show Eddie, then 12, where I grew up. On the way out of town Jan asked me how many Free Churches there were in St. Louis. I said, “None. It’s the largest metro area in the U.S. without a Free Church.” And she responded, “Why don’t you come here and start one?” For several hours that day we talked about how much fun it would be to plant a church in my hometown of St. Louis. It was easy to talk about, of course, because we knew it would never happen.
However, within two weeks of returning to Wichita, I got a call from my brother. He was pastoring a rural church in Martensdale, IA, and he told me he had received an invitation from Gary Jost, his best friend in high school and college, to consider being the first pastor of a new Free Church that Gary and Velma and four other families were starting. Joel came and talked to them but decided his ministry in Martensdale was not yet done. In fact, it probably never will be! He’s now been pastoring that church for 36 years! But he told Gary he thought his younger brother might be interested in church planting. Gary called me in July of 1983, when this church was about a month old. I was very interested, but I just couldn’t make a move at that time. Jan was pregnant, we were finishing a building program in Wichita, and we were already short-handed at the church.
But Gary didn’t give up. Throughout that next school year, he would call to see if I had changed my mind, then write, then call, and call again. At one point the group called a pastor, but he turned them down; a few weeks later he changed his mind and said he would take it, but then they turned him down! Finally, the following June, more than 11 months later, I ran into Gary in an ice cream shop in Ames, IA. We were both attending the Centennial Conference for the EFCA. Jack and Judy Kerls were there, too, and the Josts and Kerls had their radar up for a pastor for their now year-old church that had grown to 50-60 people. Gary asked if we would go to dinner with him and Velma the next evening, which we did. They spent the whole time talking about the exciting things God was doing in St. Louis, and once more they challenged us to consider joining them.
We were ripe for plucking this time! I preached my candidating sermon in the sanctuary of Des Peres Presbyterian Church, where the church plant was meeting. The point of candidating, you know, is to put your best foot forward, but I had the worst case of laryngitis I have ever had. I don’t think anyone heard the sermon, but they voted “yes” anyway! Maybe it was because they couldn’t hear me. We began our ministry on Andy’s first birthday, November 4, 1984. Jack and Judy came to his birthday party since we had no family here.
Those early years were amazing. Going from a church of 800 where I was responsible for everything (I didn’t have a Jerry Rich in Wichita or I might never have left), to a small group with no staff, no property, no facilities, no office, and no secretary, was the best thing that could have happened to me. I had two basic responsibilities–teaching and shepherding. The congregation was so young, I didn’t have my first funeral in the church until Gary Jost himself died five years later, in October of 1989. And I can’t remember my first wedding–no one wanted to be married in a cafeteria or a gymnasium, which is where we met for the first 9 years!
My first Sunday as pastor was the church’s first Sunday at a new meeting place–Sanford Brown Business College on Manchester. The cafeteria was lined with vending machines and the floor was sticky. But Art Kurtz and Tom Williamson made sure the chairs were set up, Karen Woolsey and volunteers made sure the children had Sunday School, Earl Brightup paid the bills, the Kerls and the Josts were world-class greeters, and God blessed us.
We outgrew that place in two years. Then Westminster Christian Academy rented their gym to us, and for 6 ½ years we met there, first in chairs, then we added the bleachers, then we added a second service, and finally we ran out of parking about the time God gave us this property. The WCA gym wasn’t air conditioned, but God brought us Bob Port, who Gerry-rigged the most incredible portable air conditioner you have ever seen from parts he ripped off from McDonnell-Douglas.
Church planting was part of our DNA from the beginning. Christ Community Church was planted in 1988 while we were still meeting at Westminster. In 1990 we adopted Calvary Church, a little Evangelical Methodist Church in St. Charles, which is now larger than we are. Then there was Cornerstone and St. Paul’s and Jubilee and Spirit and Truth, and Salem. Today there are eight churches with over 6000 in attendance on a given Sunday morning.
We moved here to Carman and Weidman in August of 1992. There is so much I could tell you about how we got this property, built our first building, and emerged debt-free just four years later. But the story of First Free is not a story of land or facilities or finances, but rather a story of people–church officers who served with great faithfulness, volunteers who brought every conceivable gift and talent to the table, and staff whom God raised up right out of the pew. Four of our first six pastoral staff were home grown, that is, they attended the church before they came to work for us–Karen Woolsey, Brad Harper, Bruce Roquet, and Paul Stolwyk. John Glad and Jerry Rich rounded out that initial team. What a group of incredible servants! Over the years God has continued to bring faithful lay people into leadership and competent pastors onto the staff.
Over the past five years I have felt increasingly that God was preparing me for a final leg of my personal journey. At first, I thought that might be to ease toward retirement by mentoring a younger pastor to take my place. I also considered another church plant myself–in Wildwood. More recently I began to think about Interim pastor ministries. Last January I asked our Elders to begin to develop a succession plan that would relieve me of Senior Pastor responsibilities no later than age 62, preferably earlier.
But before long we leaders found ourselves swamped by a number of issues– staff issues, leadership issues, vision issues, philosophical issues, and some personal issues. In addition, I think we got engulfed in some genuine spiritual warfare. I couldn’t explain it all to you if I wanted to, because there is much that I do not understand. In July, after Ken Epp’s resignation and the loss of several other key staff, the leaders together came to the realization that we needed outside help. We hired Peacemaker’s, a Christian organization dedicated to conflict resolution, and they conducted a week-long mediation for our leadership. That was a difficult week, and it didn’t resolve everything, but I think it did enable us to maintain basic unity and begin to look toward the future.
Out of that mediation came my decision to ask the Elders to make my transition public, to appoint a Search Committee for a new lead pastor, and to allow me to return to my original job description–preaching and shepherding–until a new pastor was called. They agreed, and so the administrative leadership of the church was handed over to two staff members–Richard Schumacher and Kevin Hughes. When I left on my study month in late September, I was feeling good about this arrangement and planning to continue it until a new Senior Pastor was called, as I shared with you in a letter at the end of July.
On the first weekend in October, while on sabbatical, I was scheduled to speak at the President’s Dinner at Calvary Bible College in K.C., my first visit back there in 29 years. They were honoring my father for his 27 years with the college from 1946-1973, but his health was too poor to attend, so they asked me to speak in his place. On the way back to Arkansas, where we always spend my study month, I stopped in Wichita to see my mother-in-law and step-mother-in-law and to visit some good friends from the church there. My friend Dan had invited a few Elders over to talk, and I assumed they wanted to pick my brain about the tensions that church was going through since the August resignation of my successor, Tom Macy, after 18 years as pastor there.
Well, I hadn’t been at Dan’s house long before I realized that what they really wanted to talk about is whether I would return as their pastor! I made it clear I was not interested in a long-term pastorate at my age, nor could I even consider coming as an Interim without talking to Pastor Tom, who has been a dear friend of mine for 25 years. As it turned out, Tom encouraged me to consider it, so for the next three weeks Jan and I agonized over two wonderful options God had put before us– staying here or going there. As we weighed those two options, God seemed to draw our hearts more and more back to Wichita.
It is my hope that as you see this bigger picture, you will reject the notion that I have been forced out by the Elders or that I am running away from a difficult situation here. Believe me, pastoring a church this size is a difficult job, I am tired, and there have been significant tensions among the leadership. God has used all those things to convince me that now is the time for new leadership at First Free, and now is the time for a new opportunity for me. When I say God has called me back to Wichita, I am not trying to insult your intelligence with the notion that everything was idyllic here when all of a sudden out of the clear blue I heard a voice from heaven saying, “Go to Wichita.”
Frankly, if you stop and think about it, most of the time when God brings transition into our lives, He uses both positive and negative forces. When any one of you decides to change careers or move to a new neighborhood or even buy a new car, there’s almost always an attraction to the new and some level of frustration with the old. If there weren’t, we would never move, never change, never grow. The same is true of ministry. Frustration pries our fingers loose and causes us to be open to new directions the Lord may give us. When I came to St. Louis 19 years ago, I was attracted by the opportunity to build something here from scratch, but I probably wouldn’t have made that move if I weren’t also frustrated with the amount of my time that was being siphoned off into administration of a growing church in Wichita.
But while there have been conflicts, and while I have had my share of frustrations, I want you to know that I love and respect the leaders of this church. They are good and godly individuals–not perfect, but committed and growing. I have confidence in them that with your prayers and your help, they will lead this church in such a way that it will continue to have a tremendous impact on this city and the world. If there is anyone here who thinks the future of this church is at risk because of one man’s departure, then I have not taught you very well.
Of course, one cannot spend 19 years in a church without feeling very deeply the pain of leaving many long, loving relationships. I have been here half of my adult life and 2/3 of my pastoral life. I have taught you, exhorted you, laughed with you, cried with you, and you have helped shape me into the man I am today. I believe that I will return to Wichita a much better pastor than I left because of things I have learned from you.
This, of course, is not my final farewell this morning, but I can’t help but think of a passage that contains a final farewell. At first, I didn’t want to touch it because I don’t feel worthy of any comparison with my own situation, but my mind has continually gone to the 20th chapter of Acts and Paul’s farewell to the Ephesian elders. Paul had completed his church planting journeys to Macedonia, Greece, and Asia Minor, and he was heading back to Jerusalem, where he would be arrested, tried, convicted, and eventually sent in chains to Rome for execution. But on the way to Jerusalem, he stopped in Miletus and asked the Elders of the church there (where he spent the longest single period of his ministry) to meet with him. He said:
You know that I have not hesitated to preach anything that would be helpful to you but have taught you publicly and from house to house. I have declared to both Jews and Greeks that they must turn to God in repentance and have faith in our Lord Jesus (Acts 20:20-21, 27).
Later in verse 27 he says, “I have not hesitated to proclaim to you the whole will (or counsel) of God.”
While very reticent to compare myself to Paul, I think I can at least say with him that “I have not hesitated to preach anything that would be helpful to you. I have not hesitated to proclaim the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:22). I have hesitated at times to do some things I should have done–to lead well, to cast vision, to love well, to be vulnerable, to resolve conflict in a timely manner–but I have never hesitated to preach the truth or to declare to everyone the message of repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus. Twenty-nine years ago I decided I would preach through every book of the Bible before retiring, and I have now gone through 54 or 55 of the 66 books, some of them more than once. Some passages I would have preferred to ignore, because they were difficult to understand and even more difficult to apply, but I am absolutely convinced that “all Scripture is God-breathed and profitable.” I will continue until the job is done, provided the Lord gives me breath.
Then Paul says to the Elders from Ephesus, “And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there” (Acts 20:24). I, too, feel compelled by the Spirit to return to Wichita, and I also do not know what awaits me there. I do not expect to face prison and execution, such as Paul faced, but there are no guarantees in this life, you know, except that God will never leave us or forsake us. Serving God doesn’t come with a money-back guarantee or with the promise of a bed of roses. Whenever we launch out to take a risk for God, we do so by faith, not by sight.
When facing the unknown we need to have the same perspective Paul shares in the next verse: “I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me–the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace.” Pastor Gene talked to Men’s Fraternity on Wednesday about the second half of their lives and how important it is to live the second half with purpose. Well, I may be in the fourth quarter already, but I am committed to making every single day count. Many of you, thankfully, share that same perspective.
The next few verses are a warning by Pastor Paul to the Elders of the church:
“Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood. I know that after I leave, savage wolves will come in among you and will not spare the flock. Even from your own number men will arise and distort the truth in order to draw away disciples after them. So be on your guard! Remember that for three years I never stopped warning each of you night and day with tears.” (Acts 20:28-31)
I’m glad Paul, too, was subject to tears. I don’t feel so bad when I hear that. Let me speak to the spiritual leaders of this congregation–the pastors, the elders, the deacons, the ministry directors, the Small Church pastor/teachers: you are overseers and shepherds. Overseeing speaks of leadership–ruling, organizing, vision-casting, directing. Shepherding speaks of pastoring–feeding, caring, listening, protecting. Both are critical, but he focuses on the importance of protecting the flock. There are still savage wolves in the church today; virtually every one of Paul’s epistles warns about them. These wolves do not advertise themselves as such; they do not show their fangs or their claws–rather they speak with words that very subtly distort the truth. For the sake of the flock, leaders must be on guard–not suspicious, not nit-picking, not legalistic, but on guard!
Paul closes with these words: “Now I commit you to God and to the word of his grace, which can build you up and give you an inheritance among all those who are sanctified” (Acts 20:32). I, too, commit you to God and to His Word. Great is His faithfulness and reliable is His Word. Don’t ever abandon it; don’t ignore it; don’t substitute anything else for it. It is the only solid foundation, it provides the only lasting framework for building your life, and it offers the only guarantee of a future inheritance with the family of God.