I’ve shared four stories with you so far, each one a high point in my walk with God. But they represent a measly four days out of 18,650 days since my salvation experience (are we feeling old yet?). It would be Facebook- and Twitter-like of me to only post my better experiences.
My first 3 months as a Christian were spent at home reading the Bible and praying. I was unemployed. My vocabulary was such that I had to keep referring to a dictionary, and I was reading the Gospels. Haha. Slowly reading the Gospels! But that experience set the stage for a lifetime pursuit to understand God’s kingdom and experience God’s presence in little insights. And on occasion, I would be inspired to prophecy in a service. That was the beginning of my relationship to the word.
Sarah and I were married in San Diego in December 1973. In January of 1975, we headed North with pastor John Miller to help with a small home church in Ellensburg, Washington. Church membership increased to about 70 and we bought an old church building in Yakima, Washington. The first time Miller asked me to preach on a Sunday morning I was terrified, not of speaking in front of the congregation but fearful that I would not know what to preach. I wanted very badly to speak what God wanted for this congregation on this particular morning. And I knew I couldn’t do it in myself so I was desperate to be inspired. I was up all night trying to find something in Stevens’ This Week pamphlets that resonated. By early morning I was a little panicked and forced to decide on a topic. I preached for fifteen minutes after which Miller exclaimed, “Is that all?” Then he proceeded to talk for forty-five minutes. That was not one of my highest moments.
I had a similar experience around 1979. I came to Los Angeles for the Feast of Tabernacles. John Stevens wasn’t feeling well and I received a message that he wanted me to bring the word that Friday night, the first service of feast. I was horrified. L.A. was a scary place to begin with and I did not feel equipped at all. I couldn’t believe Stevens was asking me to do this when there were way better options.
My nerves were so agitated that I wouldn’t hear the still small voice of God if he shouted in my ear. Once in panic mode, I fell back to what I knew. I found a This Week library and looked through every cover and title to see if anything resonated. As an aside, I had done this so many times that I knew the cover art by heart.
So there I was, in the upstairs church office, seated at a round table with a dozen This Weeks spread about me, I read excerpts from them, hoping that something would click. The whole time I was also silently praying for Stevens to get well. Some older pastors/apostles walked by to see who this McMullen kid was. I didn’t know what they were thinking but I assumed each of them would love the honor of preaching on the opening night of Tabernacles. The vibe I got was, “Who is this young unknown from Yakima and why did Stevens ask him to preach?”
Just before the service began I got word that Stevens was going to be in the service. I was relieved but not pleased with myself. To make matters worse Hargrave asked me if I had a word or not. I had to say, “no.” He disapprovingly replied, “I do,” and a proverbial knife sliced through my already defeated ego.
Sarah and I pastored three churches during our forty-five years in the fellowship. I was preaching at least once a week and over time I came to love it. The preparation time was most often amazing and the delivery was fun. Yes, there were difficult times when I didn’t feel the flow and times when I stood behind the pulpit and began speaking without knowing what I would say next. But it was all positive and I was so addicted that when I was transferred to Church of the Living Word and the opportunity to preach was removed, I felt lost. I couldn’t find the will to put effort into getting a word if it was only for me. So my times of preparation, which were the highlight of my week and where I met God, were gone and it felt like I lost my walk with God. It was a most difficult time.
Then in winter of 2018 my church imploded. The vision that I had poured my life into vanished and my beliefs were shattered. I felt betrayed by the doctrine of the Living Word. We believed we were being led by a word from God; that word should have identified and corrected the abusive culture. Instead, it lead us into it. I had to let go of a lot of dogma and doctrine, doctrine that I had enthusiastically preached and promoted and believed. Five and a half years later, I’m still working to clarify my own personal cosmology and beliefs.
Leave a Reply