30 - A Story of God's Calling

Thirty. It still hasn’t hit me. Thirty years ago today, God clearly let me know that he had a specific and significant calling for my life. It was an authentic epiphany, one I have written about many times since, but often revisit when inquired about my story.

God had been working significantly in my life, starting with Diane’s powerful way of getting me back into church. I had been mostly out of church for nearly a decade when we married. She was taking David Jr. to church with her because I didn’t want anything to do with it. She got back into bed one Sunday morning when I asked if she was taking him to church. Her response was vintage Diane. “I’m not taking him anymore. If you think church is so important for him, then get your ass out of bed and take him yourself.”

She wasn’t quitting church herself. Lord, no. She had been in church from day three or four of her life. Pretty much every Sunday morning and evening, most Wednesday nights, and a wide array of other times for activities in which her parents had been involved (think Legion). Church had always been important to her, as it had been to me until my mid-teens, when those around me basically laughed off what I thought was a call to ministry. After that, I did what most teens my age did. I obtained my driver’s license, which was also known as my graduation certificate from church activities. After high school graduation, I was done.

I was decidedly not happy with Diane’s directive that Sunday morning, but knew that she was right. So I got up, got ready, and off to church we went. Then again, the next Sunday. And the next Sunday. And before I knew it, I was liking church again. More time passed, and we found ourselves going back for more. And more. Before I realized it, we were attending Sunday evenings and Wednesday nights. Both of these “extras” were meaningful and instructive. I couldn’t get enough.

We were approached one Spring and asked to lead the youth class for Vacation Bible School. I thought, “Now, that’s a stretch!” Diane and I talked about it and agreed. I would do the lesson, and she would do the games (which has been the way we have operated all of these years). That went remarkably well despite my nervousness about leading.

It was not long after that when Jim Palmer (God rest his soul) approached me following one of our Young Couples Sunday School classes. He was a friend, a lay minister, and our class teacher. He and I connected because I was working at the local radio station, and he was an old radio dog himself from years gone by. That Sunday, he handed me his Sunday School book, the leader’s guide, and the accompanying commentary and said, “I’ve got other things I want to do in church now. You are going to teach this class. Here is everything you’ll need.”

Yep, that was my training.

God was also in that. I was more than a little nervous, but I took the reins with Diane’s help. Once again, I would teach the lesson, and she would organize activities for the class attendees and their children. It didn’t take long for this to be fun and profoundly meaningful. I loved the preparation. I quickly discovered that anyone who teaches (let alone preaches) learn far more in preparation than being a participant. I was growing exponentially in my faith and trust in God.

Until that one morning, 30-years-ago today.

We were socializing before Sunday School when Jim brought a visiting couple to our class. He introduced the couple to the class, who all gladly welcomed the strangers. Then he pointed to me and introduced me like this, “This is the teacher of the class, Dave Peppler. Dave doesn’t know it yet, but he is the next preacher who will come out of this church.”

Jaw - meet floor.

Was he there nearly twenty years prior, when I felt God was calling me to preach? Did he know that I had felt that way back then but lost all interest when nobody, not even my preacher, believed me? Was he aware of how I had checked out of church for over ten years because I was done with church after that? Nope.

But Jim had watched me for a long time, observing my growth, and stayed connected with me. He knew that God had become central to my life and saw my eagerness to be the best Christian I could be because it was the right thing to do, plus, I really wanted to. My relationship with God was, so I thought, at its height.

I was stunned into silence, but quickly recovered so I could teach class. Don’t ask me what the lesson was about or anything about how I taught it. That memory never sank in because all I kept hearing were Jim’s words echoing through my mind.

In God’s perfect wisdom and sense of humor, that Sunday’s sermon from our pastor, Gene Hill, was about hearing and responding to God’s call. I do not recall a single word of the message, but I can say that its entire content was absorbed into my mind and heart because I knew it was all aimed at me (well, from my perspective, that’s what I thought anyway).

Don’t ask me what the invitation hymn was that morning. Whatever it was, it felt like the longest song in the universe. I would normally joke about all 46 verses of Just as I Am, but it was probably something to do with following God’s call. Yeah, preachers arrange those things. All I remember is that I permanently indented the back of the pew in front of me because my knuckles were white from the tight grip. I held on for dear life and survived the invitation. I won!

Sort of.

Of all the vices that I had prior to marrying Diane, I had dropped all of them except smoking cigarettes. At the time, North-Central Ohio was in one of those annual winter weeks where the temperatures would reach daily highs of, oh, 10 degrees or so. This was the only time Diane would not make me go outside to smoke. I had permission to smoke in our unfinished basement.

After getting home and changing, Diane started fixing lunch while I went downstairs to get my nicotine fix. Then came the moment that has defined my life for the past 30-years.

I was probably halfway through with my cigarette. I was lifting my hand toward my mouth to take my next drag when I felt something pushing my hand away from my face. I was confused and frightened, and then it got worse (ok, better). Next, I heard an audible voice, not my own, say quite clearly, “You don’t need that anymore.”

I want to say that my next action was pure obedience, but I’m convinced it was fear driving me. I crushed out that cigarette (no, smokers, I did not take a final puff), sort of half-ran and half-flew up the stairs leading out of the basement to the main floor, moved quickly into the kitchen, opened the drawer where I kept my smokes, and threw away the opened pack, my lighter, and the carton from the drawer. Then I went into the living room and sat on the couch, completely oblivious to what was showing on TV. To say I was stunned was a dramatic understatement. I was in total shock.

I can only imagine what that must have looked like from Diane’s perspective. Can you visualize her perspective as she sees her husband running upstairs, whisking into the room where you are preparing lunch, watching him suddenly throw away his cigarettes, the carton, and the lighter, then just leaving the room, with a very pale face? Yeah, she has a story to tell, too.

She came out into the living room, but I never looked at her. I was still afraid. I recall in my peripheral vision that she leaned forward a bit, looking at me, and gently asking, “Are you ok?” Of course, that would be her question. Her husband had just given indications that he had just seen a ghost. I know I was pale, and at that point, probably shaking a bit. I have no recollection of my body in that moment.

It was obvious that I needed to respond to Diane. I had no idea what to say, because my mind had already convinced me that if I started recalling what I had just experienced, she would call the funny farm and have them take me away in a jacket that makes me hug myself. The only thing that came to me to share with her were the words that had last been given to me, “I don’t need that anymore.”

I wish I knew how to describe what happened next. It was a deeply spiritual moment. It occurred in my soul, my mind, and even in my bones. There was this holy enlightenment that rushed over me like a complete chill when you step out of a hot shower into a cold bathroom. It was a whisper (thank God I knew about Ezekiel at the mouth of the cave for reference). The voiceless whisper that filled my everything said one word. Just one word. But it was relentless, echoing through every fiber of my being. “Preach.” That day was January 26, 1996. Thirty years ago today.

Just. One. Word. On repeat!

I was able to muster an explanation to Diane that afternoon while being completely flabbergasted at the events of the day. I called Pastor Gene and asked if we could meet for breakfast the next morning. I was a wreck. How on earth could God call this divorced and remarried, church-skipping through is twenties, wild-life during that season guy to become a preacher? Are you serious? My first question to God was basically, “Have you lost your mind?”

I kept asking that question for the next six-months. Jim and Gene became my first mentors (in what has now been a very long line of godly souls God has sent my way). They relentlessly prayed for and with me. They shared biblical call stories with me and had countless conversations about God’s calling and how these characters found their “yes” in response.

Six months. My mentors were there every step of the way. So was Diane. I had constant reminders that helped me see that God wasn’t joking, hadn’t lost his mind, and loved me beyond measure, and that he would keep the everlasting promise of his presence. Six months later to the date, I was able to choke aside a river of tears and say the words of Isaiah, “Here am I. Send me.”

Less than a year after my basement epiphany, I was in Louisville, KY, beginning what would extend to a 26-year quest for education. I’m still learning, but there will be no more degrees to hang on the wall. But that is another long story for another day.

I am still serving and have no intentions of stopping. I have been a pastor for over 22 years, began Peptalk Ministries (peptalkministries.com if you’re interested in seeing what God is doing with that), and am now back in the pastorate, which I intend to stay in for many, many more years until I can physically do this no more.

If you have read this entire story, God bless you. If it inspires you, I thank God that it has. If you struggle with it, all I know to tell you is to step into the struggle, find someone who will talk with you about it, and patiently learn what God may be saying to you. God has many ways of communicating with us. It is my hope that God will use this story to help others in whatever way he desires. I have no personal agenda for writing this except to say that I feel like I’m supposed to. So here it is, faithfully presented for the world to see.

May God place this story into the minds and hearts of those who need it.

Amen.

There are no words to accurately capture how thankful to God I am for Diane. Later this year, we will celebrate 35 years of marriage. Ministry life has been a wild ride and continues to be a fantastic adventure. Having Diane with me through all of the highs and lows that come with it has made this fantastic. Having her with me through my struggle to respond to God was critical. Having her give me that fateful directive to go back to church was and always will be the best “direction” she could have ever given me. God knew what he was doing when he brought us together as life-partners. I will forever be grateful to God for Diane.