Call Night: Reflections (2000-2018)

I’m posting this on April 24. Tonight, my alma mater, Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, will be hosting Call Night and the celebration of soon-to-be graduates receiving their first call to the ministry as pastors and deaconesses. 

This year also marks the 18^th anniversary of my own Call Night. On April 11, 2000 I was one of 90-some men who received a Divine Call into the Holy Ministry.

While there was much pomp and circumstance on Call Night, combined with sanctified holiness and old-fashioned nervousness for us, and more than a dash of mystery at how the Spirit used the placement committee to determine where we would go, the real "action" was taking place in the back of the sanctuary. There, wives and girlfriends sat with mothers and mothers-in-law, with old-school maps and atlases subtly hidden in purses, ready to be unfurled, like Isaiah's scroll, to show where the men of their lives would be sent. In those cartographical scriptures, they found Helena, Montana and suburbs of Miami, Florida. They tried to pronounce towns in Iowa with Indian names and big cities in California with a Hispanic flavor. They were called to places where you don’t think of churches – like Las Vegas – and to places where you can’t throw a baseball without hitting a Lutheran church, like Red Bud, Illinois. There were small churches and big churches, solo pastorates and multiple staffs. One by one, from A to Z, we were summoned forward to receive our Call.

When Dean Rockaman came to my name, he said, "Candidate Jonathan F. Meyer, Texas District, Grace Lutheran Church - Crockett, Texas." He shook my hand and said, "Congratulations." I passed by President Johnson and the director of placement, shook their hands, and made my way back to my seat. In the meantime, I knew Laura was in the back scouring a Texas atlas, trying to find that small town in East Texas and figure out how close we would be to our parents in the Austin area. A few minutes later, my best friend, Scott Schaller, received his call to St. Peter Lutheran Church in Gun Barrel City, Texas ("Gun Barrel City" received quite a few chuckles from the crowd that evening and from classmates in the days to come). Later, after the service was concluded, Scott and I found our District president, Jerry Keischnick. He shook my hand slowly as he congratulated me, then solemnly added, "Crockett...that's a good place to begin."

April 11, 2000

Since then, Scott and I have had a lot of water flow under the bridge. We are no longer the young, tender-faced men with stars in our eyes that we were in this photo.  We’ve each preached more than 1000 sermons, buried dozens of our members, married and baptized, taught and confirmed. I was in Crockett for 3 ½ years then in Crosby for over 13. Scott was in Gun Barrel for a dozen years and in Thorndale (east of Austin) for four.  We’ve laughed with those who laugh and wept with those who cried. We've done both of those with each other over the phone, too, as we wrestled with life - both our own and that of our parishioners - under the cross. Our hairlines have retreated and our beltlines have expanded. Our faces aren’t so youthful anymore.

We call this "Call Night;" perhaps it should be termed "Night of the Call." That sounds a little more ominous, doesn't it, like a Stephen King novel or something? Perhaps that is more accurate, in a sense. We work in a field where, I have read, the average pastor only lasts seven years after his academic training before leaving the ministry behind. Every vocation has it’s challenges, I know, but the ministry is unique: it’s the only vocation I can think of where we meet the devil face to face on a daily basis, both in our lives and in the lives of the people we serve. Yet the Lord has seen fit to use us in His church for almost two decades. It’s a humble thing to stand in the Lord’s stead, to preach and teach, absolve and commune, baptize and bury all in His name. It’s not always peaches and cream – sometimes it’s more like sour milk and spoiled fruit – but it’s where the Lord has led Scott and me, and our families, to serve. Sometimes, it's tough and gritty work; we lose sleep and pound our fists in frustration. If I had to do it again, I don't know if I would. But now, I can't see myself doing anything else. 

A couple of weeks ago, I was privileged to preach at Brother Schaller’s installation at Trinity Lutheran Church in Taylor, Texas. I’ve known Scott longer than I've known my wife. Second to Laura, he's my best friend. It would be difficult to put into words the emotion I felt that afternoon, getting to share the Gospel with my friend and his new congregation. We had some time afterward, at the reception, to reminisce reflect, and tell stories.  But the greatest wonder was realizing that the Lord continues to use two sinners  like us, saved by grace, to serve His congregations.

March 11, 2018

Laura, Lisa, Scott and me

I remember the emotion of Call Night and I know what those Seminarians will feel tonight. The candidates will be excited and nervous. Their girlfriends and wives will be sitting in the pews with their cell phones open to their map app and, with a few clicks, they will know all about their new home and new church. Some will go to small churches, others to bigger churches. There will be rural churches in Nebraska getting a new pastor, and ethnic mission plants in major cities will also get a new pastor. And the Lord will work in and through those new pastors to share the Gospel.

Keep them in your prayers. They have a few weeks left of class, then they will pack and head out, all around the country. They will move into their new homes and apartments a few weeks ahead of their installation. And they, too, will promise that, with God’s help, they will faithfully serve as pastors of God’s flock.

And, in another 17 years, they will also look back and remember. And, hopefully, they will rejoice and thank God for what He has done for them and through them.

Thanks for remembering with me.