In order to appreciate the journey that led my wife, Linda, and I to Cook County, you have to understand an essential fact about us. We know in the depths of our being that God our Creator is real, loves us, has made a way for us through Jesus Christ to have an authentic, vital, satisfying  relationship with Him, and that He invites as many people as will come into that kind of personal relationship with Him as well. Knowing that essential fact helps to make sense of how a guy who grew up in Georgia, went to school in Kentucky, got married in Virginia, and was in seminary in St, Paul, MN headed for graduate school in Ft. Worth, Texas winds up the pastor of a small Baptist church in a small destination town on Lake Superior he had never even heard of before.

I was a third year student at Bethel Seminary, working on my M.Div., when a friend who was pastoring First Baptist Church in Grand Marais, asked if I would fill in for him one Sunday while he and his family were on vacation. We arrived in Grand Marais the first Friday in May, 1994. I had never heard of the place. I had never even been to Duluth, though we did get to Forest Lake once when I made a wrong turn out of the seminary driveway early on. We were mesmerized by the whiteness of the birch forest along the highway and traumatized by how cold it was compared to St. Paul. I, who had worn shorts for the drive, had to buy a pair of pants at Joynes!

We found out shortly after our arrival that the day before, on the second day of the pastor's vacation, the entire congregation at First Baptist got his surprise resignation in the mail. He had been here only 19 months. No one saw his resignation coming. He had said nothing to me to prepare me for the maelstrom of emotions and reactions I was walking into. But God is always faithful. I set aside the message I had prepared and spoke about an occasion in the history of ancient Israel when God led His people to a life changing moment and gave them the will and courage to face the transition successfully. 

A couple weeks later a leader in the congregation called to ask if I would be available to fill in as their interim pastor for the summer. Linda had the summer off from teaching, I had no classes scheduled so we said yes, expecting to be here from June to August then back to finish my last year in seminary and then after graduation to doctoral work in Texas. 

Then they asked if we could stay through Christmas. Then they asked if I would consider candidating (becoming an official consideration for the full time, permanent pastor position.) I had resisted this idea for months because I had a plan. My plan included a doctorate earned in the SOUTH! Besides, it was an unwritten rule that the interim pastor is never considered as a candidate.

One day the chairman of the pastoral search committee came into the church office where I was working and sat down right across from me. "Dale," he said, "I spoke with the District Executive Minister about you and us. I know you keep saying the interim can't be a candidate. He agreed. He also said, since the last pastor was here only 19 months, we could consider him a long term interim and you our long term candidate."

I didn't know that was coming but I knew something was coming. A few days earlier, as I was walking past the built-in bookshelves in the living room of the parsonage, on my way to the kitchen, I had one of the most clear impressions of God's presence I have ever experienced in my life. That impression came with a thought: "You know you're going to be here, don't you?!" Yes, I knew but I still had my valid objection . . . until God kindly went behind my back and removed that objection.

The story of how we came to be here and have been here 30 years now also has a Linda component. She didn't want to be here. The how and why of what changed her mind is a remarkable story of grace but you'll have to ask her for the details. We are here because God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ led us here, gave us His purpose for being here, and has poured out grace upon grace to keep us here in life and ministry in this community for three decades.

Sure. People. God loves people. God wants people to know they are loved. He has ordained two means for people to find out about Him and His love for them. The first is His word, the Bible. The second are His people, followers of Jesus who by faith commit to living in this world as living (though desperately imperfect) copies of Jesus. For me that means, as a Christian and as a pastor, I can't hide in a building and hope people come to me to see Jesus in me. 

Over the years I've engaged in various opportunities to be present in our community. Each of those efforts has had their season and ended for one reason or another. I was open and willing for another venue to be involved in the community, make a difference, and, quite frankly, have some fun doing it. The people at Oddz & Endz extended that opportunity. The founders of Oddz & Endz were all people persons. They liked people. They worked for the benefit of people in our community in both their professional and personal lives. Oddz & Endz was a way they made to help people. They gave people a place to donate stuff. They gave people a place to come and get stuff at a reasonable price. They gave back to the people of the community the extra dollars earned by selling the stuff they gathered.

Yet, Oddz & Endz has never been primarily about the stuff. We have been and are about the people. The volunteers who work with us, the donors who support us, the customers who come and have a cup of coffee with us, the people we may never know who benefit from the financial gifts to other local non-profits, these are what make Oddz & Endz such an incredible place to be. And add on for me that it allows a certain medium for artistic expression in staging and merchandising (I call it piling up stuff so it looks appealing) and now there's people and fun!

At Oddz & Endz, our mission is people, not profits, and that made it a place I wanted to be, a place to which I wanted to contribute.

 

What an awesome question! If someone were sitting down with me for a face to face with this question, I would start with a few questions of my own: "Why did you stop?" 

Sometimes the answer is conflict. Sometimes it is disappointment. Sometimes it is anger. Sometimes it is boredom. Sometimes it is a change of location, a life event, any number of reasons why someone stopped attending. I think it is helpful to know why one stopped attending because the next question I would ask is, "What are you missing that makes you want to go back?"

That question leads me to the third question: "What are you prepared to give to a church you attend?"

We live in a market culture saturated with a consumer mindset. And that mindset can affect churches. Churches, like so much in our culture, often present themselves as spiritual retail stores where consumers can come and get something they want. Churches often compete to present themselves as having "more and better" than the others in order to attract people. If you are looking for a church in which to engage you can expect to hear, sometimes subtly and sometimes not, proposals of all the church has to offer you in order to foster your interest and return.

But here is what I think you ought to think about. The church exists in the world to worship and serve Jesus Christ in faith. God the Father is exalted and exalts His Son, Jesus, in and through the church. So, if you ask me for advice about engaging with a church, I'd say, know what you're getting into. In a church, you should "get into worship." In a church, you should "get into" serving God. A church should help you not be all about you but all about God. If you're going to go back to church, make it truly worthwhile. Make it about worship and service. 

No church is perfect. Expecting perfection is unrealistic. But every church should be clear about who they are and why they exist. I suggest you look for the church that will point you away from self-interest and to Christ.

Hmm. It used to be on the rocks behind the old generator station in the rec park in Grand Marais. There was a ledge I could sit on above the water and not be seen. I loved that place.

Nowadays, I find my most peaceful, meaningful, refreshing moments are on the two hour drive to Duluth. When I'm alone in the car on that now familiar highway, with the radio set to the Southern Gospel station, I can think, and imagine, and pray, and plan (and occasionally sing at the top of my voice.) I've worked through great sorrows and great joys on those trips to the city, just me and God alone in the car.

Growing up in the Deep South, season were marked by two colors: green and gray. Winter was gray. All the other seasons were green. I like green more than gray but I am thankful that seasons in our locale actually have different colors: green, more green, gold/orange, gray, white. I appreciate the diversity of colors and the clear demarcation of seasons here on the North Shore but, to be honest, my favorite season is tourist season.

I know, I know. But I like people. I like seeing people I haven't seen for nine months come back and spend some time with us. I like being able to be out and about and see what people are doing, where they are going, how they are spending their time. Sure, there are all the things that make being a tourist destination challenging for local residents, but some of these folks are just fun, and a lot more visitors than we may be aware of volunteer and make significant contributions to our community wellbeing while they are here. So, I'm going to say tourist season is my favorite season.

I've gotten a lot of really, really good life-changing, development enhancing advice in my life, as have we all, I suspect. I've gotten amazing spiritual advice in my pursuit of Christ ("Got a question about life in the world? Start with God and go from there."). I got invaluable relationship advice from my mom ("You're married now. Don't come complaining to me. I did my time. Talk to her and work it out!") I've gotten incredible career advice ("Find what you love and do it with all your heart.") I got motivational advice when I was writing my doctoral thesis ("Just stop stalling and start writing or we're going to charge you another semester's tuition.")

But there was a season of life in which I got the best advice I think anyone could have given a young pastor in those kinds of circumstances. An older man who had been in pastoral ministry longer than I'd been alive at the time sat me down and gave me this advice: "When in conflict, if you are wrong, own it now. If you might be wrong, consider it now. If you are right, and you know you are right, determine whether being right in this moment matters more than being gracious. And if being right truly matters for the long haul, then know this, sometimes, in these situations in pastoral ministry, you either have to outlast them, outlove them, or outlive them."

Those words translated into my life like this: be thoughtful; be patient; love. Thoughtful patient love is the definition of grace. I try to extend grace as a life practice on account of that advice.