The year had gone well and the
turmoil of the previous year had dissipated. I was actively studying for my
interview with the Licensing Committee as were most seniors planning on the
ministry. I was clearly stressed about going into a room alone with a group of
8-10 men focused exclusively on asking who knows what and me trying to remain
calm enough to answer confidently.
The interview was scheduled to
last 50 minutes and would be divided into two parts. One, my conversion and
present walk with God and two, my theology. I had been told most of the time
would be on theology. Since I had always struggled with tests of any kind, I
had a hard time focusing on the theology part and was studying hard to pound it
into my head.
My interview was schedule for the
first one after supper. Needless to say, I could not eat. But neither could I
study. I was never able to cram right up to the last minute. That only made
matters worse for me. As I recall, the meeting was in the boardroom off the
president’s office. I remember some of the men present, but not the entire
make-up. The group was the Licensing Committee from The Canadian Midwest
District. Mr. Rose was there as the dean. That was a comfort. I believed he was
on my side.
The basic question of my
conversion started the meeting. Rather than moving on to my present walk with
God, a district pastor wanted to know about my lack of submission to authority
and what possessed me to attack authority. I was so taken back I became visibly
nervous. I was shaking and sweat began to pour down my forehead. I began to
ramble only making matters worse. I attempted to defend myself and explain my
right to do what I did.
Mr. Rose ended that question when
he attempted to move the subject back to my theology where it should have been.
Describe what conversion means? I handled that question well. It turned out to
be the only theological question I was asked.
A second pastor turned it back to
the pervious year and that continued for the entire, extended interview. The
only interest the committee seemed to have was to destroy me for the events of
the previous year. Mr. Rose pressured them to release me so the next interview
could begin. I was there for one hour and ten minutes. I was exhausted when I
left and absolutely convinced it was over. I would never be accepted into
ministry.
Yes, I was angry. I doubted anyone
had ever faced an interview like that. I could see a kind face, but he was
clearly frustrated and could not seem to redirect the focus. Neither could I. I
went to my room, cried and blamed God for all that had and was happening. I
felt deserted. I felt hung out to dry in the cold Saskatchewan winter air. I
cried, I beat on my pillow; I refused to answer the door. Only Garth had the
courage to just walk in. I told him what had happened and that I hated every
one of those jerks. I agreed with me because he didn’t want to argue. Mostly I
was frightened, as I did not know what I was going to do. I believed God had
called me to ministry and was now sure the doors had slammed shut in my face. I
felt like the 95 pound weakling having sand kicked in his face.
At about 10:00 that evening as I
was still sitting with Garth staring out at Fourth Avenue once again with envy
for the freedom I believed those people had. There was a knock at my door. Rev.
Rose and Rev. Orthner came in and sat on the beds. Garth excused himself. They
apologized for what had happened in the meeting. Rev. Orthner was the district
Superintendent of the Canadian Midwest District. He made my day.
“I believe you did the right thing
in standing up to the dean. I like a guy with courage and guts. I know what
most of those people think about you, but I don’t agree and I am going to do
everything I can to find a place for you to begin ministry. But I’m going to
tell you this; you will have to take whatever comes along. You will not have
the option of choosing or waiting for a better option. You will need to get
your foot in the door and prove to them that you are God’s man.”
As it turned out, he kicked a door
open for me. I had written to the DS from Eastern Canada and he said there was
nothing for me. At least that was clear. He had open churches and I was trying
to get into the pastorate. But he was not going to place me. I wrote to my DS
in the Western District of the USA. That was my home district. He never
answered my letter. I went to Calgary to meet with the DS of the Western
District and he told me he had no open churches. I wish he had added there were
none for me as there were two open churches at the time. Students talk to one
another. The wording hurt.
But like I said. Rev. Orthner
found the hole for me to crawl through. But that’s a future story, but I did end
up in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan at the largest church in the district.
I remember very little about graduation.
The Committee meeting pretty well did me in. I know my parents did not come.
They were planning on being at my wedding a few weeks later. I think Della
came, but I’m not even sure of that. I was relieved that the Licensing
Committee granted me a license to minister. I suspect I am one of the few, if
not the only one approved for ministry having been asked only one theological
question and none about his current walk with God. All I know is that God had
to be in it.Don Kinnie and myself getting ready for the big event. My parents wanted to be there as I was the their only child to graduate from college.
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