FROM THE POINT TO THE CROSS

WHAT NOW?

"Well, Dennis, I think that's about all the questions we have for you now.  Our committee needs some time to discuss our decision about whether or not to ordain you.  We would ask that you wait in the lobby until we send someone for you.  At that time we'll ask you to return to this room and we will inform you of our decision and why we made that decision.  Do you have any questions?"

"No, I don't think so," I responded.

"All right, then, if you'll step out of the room, we'll let you know when we're ready for you."

As I walked out of that small conference room I felt a little apprehensive.  The decision that this committee was about to make would determine my future vocation.  My whole body felt tense as I paced back and forth in the lobby.  This was about the fifteenth time I had been interviewed in the past six years.  These interviews were part of the process for those desiring to be ordained to full-time ministry in the United Methodist Church.  It had been a long journey that had led me to this final interview. I found myself reviewing all the key events in my mind as I waited. 

I walked over to the large picture window and looked at the forest of trees surrounding the main lodge at Wesley Woods. It looked so peaceful outside in that forest, but as I looked at those trees I reflected back to a time when I was in a similar forest many years ago. In that forest I held a grenade in my hand ready to attack anyone who came near.  I could almost feel the cold metal ball of steel in my hand as the trees in front of me changed to a dark and dangerous-looking forest on the other side of the world.

"Did you hear that?" John asked.

"Yeah, it sounded like something moving toward us." I responded.

John and I were Marines in Vietnam.  We were fifty meters in front of our unit perimeter where 500 Marines waited to be attacked by Viet Cong and NVA soldiers.  We held our weapons and grenades tightly as we watched for signs of movement in the dark forest in front of us.  We had been hearing the sound of twigs breaking.  Our hearts were beating so loudly that we thought the enemy could surely hear. The snapping twigs kept getting closer and closer.  We knew the enemy was out there and we were ready to engage them.  I took a grenade and pulled the pin with shaking hands.  The noises grew louder and I thought I could detect the sound of voices in hushed tones.  It was hard to see and hear in the forest at night.  Shadows were everywhere. 

John grabbed a grenade and pulled the pin.  Sweat was dripping off my face and hands.  The noises in front of us sounded like footsteps.  We drew back our arms and on the count of three threw the grenades in the general direction of the noises.  Several seconds later they exploded and lit up the dark forest. 

I turned my head away from the window.  The explosion brought me back to Wesley Woods.  I walked away from the window to a chair by the fireplace.  The memories were still too vivid. I sat down, but I was too tense to sit for long.  I went back to the window and placed my hand on the adjoining wall.  It was as if the window had become a looking glass into my past.  How did I ever end up here applying to become a pastor?  It had been a long journey, a journey that actually started in my senior year of high school.