The truth is they forced me into it.
I didn't want to do it.
I'd gone to Seminary because Guy Sayles had asked me to come but I never had any intentions of becoming a "Professional Christian." One day the five little old ladies cornered me demanding that I become their pastor.
"Hell No!" I said.
They pressed and one had a butcher knife in her apron. Even without the knife, five little old ladies turned themselves into a gang and threatened me with violence. So to save myself, I said yes.
Having no idea whatsoever what I was supposed to do, I just made shit up.
Sunday morning breakfast was my idea. All of Louisville's soup kitchens closed for the weekend. Homeless people flocked to Catholic Mass just to get a little something to eat. I decided an alternative was needed.
The Christian gang of little old ladies said they didn't care so long as we didn't disrupt their Sunday School class.
So at six a.m. I opened the doors to the Sanctuary with bars on the windows serving up coffee, sausage gravy and biscuits. A hundred homeless people showed up and a ministry was born!
Then the people in the projects wanted to eat too so they started coming.
The radical fringe of the three Seminaries in town heard about the funky church doing crazy work started coming too just to check it out.
The warden at the Prison Transitional Center saw a way to reduce his budget while serving God at the same time asked if his population could come, eat and stay for services. I said sure and a congregation was born.
Regular attendance went from the Christian gang of five little old ladies to almost 200 thugs and peace loving Hippies.
Not everybody liked it though.
The Southern Baptists, of which I am one, were outraged and summoned me to Corporate Headquarters. Apparently I had violated Article 17; Section 3-2 of the Bylaws of Faith which says, "Thou shalt love buildings more than people." It seems I was screwing up their building.
"What do you want me to do," I asked?
You could have heard a pin drop in Baptist Corporate Headquarters. They had no idea. Church attendance was through the roof. Literally ... some homeless people slept on the roof! Baptists love numbers ... especially big ones!
As a result I was allowed to continue drawing a paycheck as a "Professional Christian."
It didn't last though. Nothing ever does. Eight years later, I could no longer handle the constraints of Baptist rules and regulations. I loved the congregation though the church was becoming oppressive. I needed to get out from under the Rock and found a way to do so. It wasn't a graceful way but my time as a "Professional Christian" mercifully ended.
I went on to do bigger and better things morphing into a President/CEO of a multi-million company. "There's big money in homelessness," I used to say and there was. I gave it my all until, decades later, that mercifully came to an end too.
These days, we're working on the next great thing, still rooted in making things better for others.
Life has been the most interesting ride. I've no regrets because everything I've done and all that I've been through got me to this point. It's fascinating, and frightening, as the other things I've done. Every day I wake up thankful and feel blessed even when night time doubts keep me awake. My Guardian Angel tells me to not worry about it.
"You taken leaps of faith before," she says. "This is just the latest ... and the biggest!" Then she shrugs her shoulders and adds, "No worries."
