Part One: The Burden and Call.
The year after leaving California was very difficult. I was sure God wanted us to leave, but it was not clear what purpose God had for us next. We returned to Pensacola with four small children. We stayed at my wife’s parent’s house, who have a beautiful home in Florida. They have always been open to us staying with them; however, I felt like we were imposing. I was eager to find a place of our own and settle in a new life. I needed patience as God worked in my heart. During the course of that year and my search for God’s will I candidated at two churches. The first one was in the deep South. They had just lost a beloved pastor and were seeking a man just like him. Even though we had a good service and meeting with them, I didn’t fit their expectations. The head deacon told me I was not as “southern” as they wanted. They wanted a fire breathing, southern preacher; I was close but I had too much “Yankee” in me. The next church was a very nice church in northern Illinois. I spent a Sunday with them, and they let me know that Sunday night that I was too much the “southern” evangelist; they wanted a teaching pastor. I began to think I should just start my own church, and I was thinking of my home state of Ohio. All of my prayers and thinking began to drift in that direction after Illinois.
In the spring of 1992, some of the men from our Pensacola church went on a mission trip to the Ukraine. I was invited to go but had little money for a mission trip, so I declined. I had always loved and supported missions. Even when I was in elementary school and had a paper route, I gave to faith promise missions. I helped support a missionary from Japan with $5 per month for years. Later in college, I attended mission prayer band, but personally I had never considered myself mission material. I knew from my high school and college that I was bad in languages. No, I would never be a missionary, so why take a mission trip.
A very good friend of mine in those days was a man named Ricky Howell. Ricky had taken compassion on me and my family after returning from California. He was a successful businessman who had a great desire to serve God. He and I started working in the local jails and prisons together. He was one of the men from our church who went on the Ukrainian mission trip. When he returned, I could see he was very touched by the experience and had a story to tell. That next week after his return, he invited me to a Wendy’s to tell me first hand about his trip. That lunch date would change my life and that of my family. What we ate was not important, but I do remember Ricky getting a bowl of chili. I remember, because he never touched it the whole time we sat there. Ricky had a very deep southern accent. He began to tell me about his trip, and I was mesmerized by the stories he told. At one point as Ricky began to tell me about the people who had gotten saved in their street efforts, he began to cry. I will never forget a tear falling into that bowl of chili. I was deeply moved by what Ricky was telling me. At the end of that conversation Ricky, who was a man of action, told me we needed to get some missionaries there as soon as possible. Then he paused and looked at me as if he had just received a revelation. “Eric” he said, “you have a Bible school degree and experience in church planting. You don’t have a church now; you could go.” I was shocked at the statement, and I made a number of excuses as to why I could not be a missionary. Later that day I went home and told my wife most of what brother Ricky had told me about the Ukraine and his trip. I did not tell her about the last statement of that conversation. Later that night all I could think about was what Ricky had said, “You could go.” It was an absurd thought; I couldn’t go. I had a family of six, and I was going to start a church in Ohio, and then I would do my part to support and send missionaries. Plus, I just wasn’t qualified to be a missionary.
Before my talk with Ricky I had seen an article in the Sword of the Lord magazine. The Baptist Bible Fellowship of Ohio was looking for qualified men to start churches in the State of Ohio. I was qualified for this. I had been brought up in a Fellowship church in Akron; I had the educational qualifications, and I had experience. I made a call and set up a meeting with the leaders of the church planting committee. The meeting was set less than a week after my conversation with Ricky. I decided to take my family so the girls could see their grandparents.
On the way to Ohio my wife and I had a conversation about the Ukrainian mission trip. I could tell by her tone that she was troubled by something. Finally she looked at me with a very serious expression and said, “Why couldn’t we go.” This statement came as a shock to me, because I had been battling with the Lord for days about this very issue, and my final excuse centered on my wife and children. God had just eliminated all my excuses for not going. I promised my wife that if the meeting in Ohio didn’t materialize or if I was rejected, I would consider missions and the Ukraine. I spent most of that trip to Ohio in prayer and thoughtful consideration.
My meeting with the men from the Ohio BBF was scheduled for ten o’clock the next morning at a Bob Evans Restaurant. It was my understanding that three men would be present. Only one of the three met me, and the meeting was shorter than I expected. I had been eliminated from consideration the day before due to the fact that I had not gone to their school. The pastor who met me was embarrassed and very apologetic. From my side of the table I almost laughed out loud. I told that pastor how God was beginning to work in our lives to be missionaries. An interesting side note: both of the pastors who didn’t come to meet with me, later supported me as a missionary. God’s hand was in everything that happened, and I needed to trust Him.
Less than two months later we took a survey trip to the Ukraine, but before we left I submitted publicly to the call of a missionary. I told my church, Smyrna Baptist, that I was called to Eastern Europe. My wife stood at my side and committed herself to follow me wherever God called. Sometime later they would commission us to be missionaries from their church.
The year after leaving California was very difficult. I was sure God wanted us to leave, but it was not clear what purpose God had for us next. We returned to Pensacola with four small children. We stayed at my wife’s parent’s house, who have a beautiful home in Florida. They have always been open to us staying with them; however, I felt like we were imposing. I was eager to find a place of our own and settle in a new life. I needed patience as God worked in my heart. During the course of that year and my search for God’s will I candidated at two churches. The first one was in the deep South. They had just lost a beloved pastor and were seeking a man just like him. Even though we had a good service and meeting with them, I didn’t fit their expectations. The head deacon told me I was not as “southern” as they wanted. They wanted a fire breathing, southern preacher; I was close but I had too much “Yankee” in me. The next church was a very nice church in northern Illinois. I spent a Sunday with them, and they let me know that Sunday night that I was too much the “southern” evangelist; they wanted a teaching pastor. I began to think I should just start my own church, and I was thinking of my home state of Ohio. All of my prayers and thinking began to drift in that direction after Illinois.
In the spring of 1992, some of the men from our Pensacola church went on a mission trip to the Ukraine. I was invited to go but had little money for a mission trip, so I declined. I had always loved and supported missions. Even when I was in elementary school and had a paper route, I gave to faith promise missions. I helped support a missionary from Japan with $5 per month for years. Later in college, I attended mission prayer band, but personally I had never considered myself mission material. I knew from my high school and college that I was bad in languages. No, I would never be a missionary, so why take a mission trip.
A very good friend of mine in those days was a man named Ricky Howell. Ricky had taken compassion on me and my family after returning from California. He was a successful businessman who had a great desire to serve God. He and I started working in the local jails and prisons together. He was one of the men from our church who went on the Ukrainian mission trip. When he returned, I could see he was very touched by the experience and had a story to tell. That next week after his return, he invited me to a Wendy’s to tell me first hand about his trip. That lunch date would change my life and that of my family. What we ate was not important, but I do remember Ricky getting a bowl of chili. I remember, because he never touched it the whole time we sat there. Ricky had a very deep southern accent. He began to tell me about his trip, and I was mesmerized by the stories he told. At one point as Ricky began to tell me about the people who had gotten saved in their street efforts, he began to cry. I will never forget a tear falling into that bowl of chili. I was deeply moved by what Ricky was telling me. At the end of that conversation Ricky, who was a man of action, told me we needed to get some missionaries there as soon as possible. Then he paused and looked at me as if he had just received a revelation. “Eric” he said, “you have a Bible school degree and experience in church planting. You don’t have a church now; you could go.” I was shocked at the statement, and I made a number of excuses as to why I could not be a missionary. Later that day I went home and told my wife most of what brother Ricky had told me about the Ukraine and his trip. I did not tell her about the last statement of that conversation. Later that night all I could think about was what Ricky had said, “You could go.” It was an absurd thought; I couldn’t go. I had a family of six, and I was going to start a church in Ohio, and then I would do my part to support and send missionaries. Plus, I just wasn’t qualified to be a missionary.
Before my talk with Ricky I had seen an article in the Sword of the Lord magazine. The Baptist Bible Fellowship of Ohio was looking for qualified men to start churches in the State of Ohio. I was qualified for this. I had been brought up in a Fellowship church in Akron; I had the educational qualifications, and I had experience. I made a call and set up a meeting with the leaders of the church planting committee. The meeting was set less than a week after my conversation with Ricky. I decided to take my family so the girls could see their grandparents.
On the way to Ohio my wife and I had a conversation about the Ukrainian mission trip. I could tell by her tone that she was troubled by something. Finally she looked at me with a very serious expression and said, “Why couldn’t we go.” This statement came as a shock to me, because I had been battling with the Lord for days about this very issue, and my final excuse centered on my wife and children. God had just eliminated all my excuses for not going. I promised my wife that if the meeting in Ohio didn’t materialize or if I was rejected, I would consider missions and the Ukraine. I spent most of that trip to Ohio in prayer and thoughtful consideration.
My meeting with the men from the Ohio BBF was scheduled for ten o’clock the next morning at a Bob Evans Restaurant. It was my understanding that three men would be present. Only one of the three met me, and the meeting was shorter than I expected. I had been eliminated from consideration the day before due to the fact that I had not gone to their school. The pastor who met me was embarrassed and very apologetic. From my side of the table I almost laughed out loud. I told that pastor how God was beginning to work in our lives to be missionaries. An interesting side note: both of the pastors who didn’t come to meet with me, later supported me as a missionary. God’s hand was in everything that happened, and I needed to trust Him.
Less than two months later we took a survey trip to the Ukraine, but before we left I submitted publicly to the call of a missionary. I told my church, Smyrna Baptist, that I was called to Eastern Europe. My wife stood at my side and committed herself to follow me wherever God called. Sometime later they would commission us to be missionaries from their church.
