SynerJack

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There’s something about going home, either to your father or your father-figure(s) that instinctively makes you want to do well – to make them proud.  Like that instinctive desire every believer has to hear his/her Heavenly Father say, “Well done,” we have that same kind of father-hunger toward key influences in our lives, too.

Fred Wolfe was that kind of father figure to me.  Fred was my pastor, under whom I was both saved and called to the ministry.  People who know him, even to this day, can tell when I’ve been around him because I’ll start talking and preaching like him.  Other than my own parents, there was no one on earth I wanted more to be proud of me than him.  I wanted my life, my work, my influence to honor his legacy and influence.

That’s what made June 28, 1990 so unspeakably painful. I came home to Mobile a failure.  We were living in Birmingham, and for more than four months, I’d been preaching the truth and living a lie.  I had become discouraged about various areas of my life, starting with money.  I had isolated myself from iron-sharpening-iron fellowship and accountability.  I had become prideful and arrogant.  And in the midst of it all, I had compromised myself morally.

One night, all the pride, the dishonesty, the discouragement, and the self-dependence came crashing down.  More than burnout, I was a complete emotional and spiritual wreck.  Sobbing in grief and repentance one minute, curled up in a ball the next, I needed help.  And to add tension to the situation, Robin made the call.

Two days later we were sitting in Fred’s office.  He was the last person I wanted to see – and the one person I probably needed to see the most.  He sat and listened, and passed the Kleenex.  He listened to Robin, and passed the Kleenex.  And then he said something to me that without a doubt saved my ministry, and may well have saved my life.

Andy, God knew all this would happen before He saved you.  But He saved you anyway.

And God knew all this would happen before He called you to preach.  But He called you to preach anyway.

With those few words, he introduced me to a concept that I had often passed to others.  He showed me that grace works for pastors, too.

I tell that story often, when I think people need to hear it.  Without fail, if I’m talking to a pastor, he will weep when he hears those words.

Sometimes, now 18 years later, I still do, too.

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