Ordination is a very serious business. I entered the ministry in October of 1975 when I was called as a youth pastor to a small church in Tennessee. The pastor wanted to ordain me, but I just couldn’t see that happening at the time. I was unprepared as far as education was concerned. I was unprepared as far as temperament was concerned. And I was unprepared as far as experience was concerned. For the next nine years I served as a youth and music pastor (I heard that snicker at ‘music pastor’), but Marsha and I always knew that at some point we would be in the pastorate. We served at a church in Ohio, our home church, and then a church in Miami, Florida, and both wanted to ordain me, but I wanted to wait until I was ready to be called as a pastor. I didn’t want to enter into it with the wrong attitude or lightly. And, more importantly, I didn't feel qualified Spiritually.

          In 1982 we went back to finish the education part of the journey. In 1983 I went as an interim Pastor to a small church far out in the boondocks of Florida. The interim was supposed to be for six months, but at the end of that time the church expressed a desire to call me as their pastor and I felt it was time that Sandy Creek Baptist Church of Pounce de Leon, Florida got to experience the good and bad of a new pastor. It all depended, though, on my ordination.

          I contacted the director of our association, a Rev. McClain. Mac was a genuinely good guy who cared about the pastors and the churches. Mac agreed to be the moderator of my ordination council and to set the whole thing up.

          Among most Baptist groups, ordination is bestowed by a local church. Other denominations can do it however they like, the denomination can ordain, the churches can ordain or there can be an independent group that ordain. Also, you can get ordained by mail or even e-mail. The mail or e-mail way is legal but it is also unethical. But among Baptist, it is mostly handled by the churches. This can be handled in any way the church decides is proper. Usually, a church leader in the area will be contacted to put together a council of other ordained ministers to question the candidate and then to report back to the church as to their feeling of whether or not the person is qualified. (In this, I was fortunate to know the associational director and to be able to ask him to head the council)  The church, then, would make its own determination. It is fairly rare for a church to go against a council, but since it is up to the church, it does happen occasionally. Sometimes, though, the local church would do something really odd. One of my seminary classmates was called to a church as pastor, pending ordination. At the first deacons’ meeting they voted to ordain him. No council, no questions, nothing. It worked out okay. More than half of my classmates have dropped out of the ministry, but he still pastors in Florida.

          The date was set for July 15, 1984. My mother and step-father came from Ohio and brought Marsha’s mother with them. That part of Florida was watermelon country, the big long ones that look like little torpedoes. Several people in the church brought over watermelons because they knew we were having out of town company. In the end we had fifteen huge, long melons stacked under a tree in our front yard. The night before the ordination the congregation had a fish fry in their pavilion on the grounds of the church. Fresh water and salt water fish either deep fried or grilled, huge steaks grilled to your liking, enough side dishes to make the picnic tables groan and homemade ice cream for dessert. My step-father made the comment that I wouldn’t have to wait to die to get to heaven if this was the way they intended to feed me. It was hard to disagree.

          But, I didn’t eat much. I was too nervous. The council would meet the next day at 2:00 PM. Mac had told me that he would send out twenty five invitations, but no more than a half a dozen would come. Having it on a Sunday afternoon would make it hard for a lot of preachers to come because they would also have evening services, which was a good thing as far as I was concerned. Out there in the country, at that time, a seminary trained preacher was viewed with some distrust. As one old timer on the council put it, "There’s two kinds of preachers. Them that’s called by the Holy Ghost and them that’s educated." Mac figured that by having it at 2:00 some of those old timers wouldn’t come. Besides, six was the normal number of council members. Still, I was nervous.

          And, as it turned out, I had good cause to be nervous. Twenty five invitations were sent out, but any ordained person could come. My ordination council had 29 members. No one had ever seen anything like it. Somehow, I didn’t feel very privileged to have the biggest council anyone could remember. For over two hours they threw question after question at me concerning the Scriptures and concerning my personal views on practically every subject you can imagine. Mac tried to keep the subjects strictly Scriptural, but Mac was one of those seminary educated preachers, too, so they did their best to ignore him.

          There was one older gent there who was a real character. Rev. Melvin Paul, pastor of the nearby Bridge Creek Baptist Church. He was born in 1900 and saw combat in World War One, which he still called the Great War. He rejoined the army and served on some of the same battlefields during World War Two. He was on the beaches on D-Day. Returning home (he was the pastor of Bridge Creek even then in the mid-1940s) he organized the first National Guard unit in the area. He served the unit as their sergeant. During Korea that unit was called up. He was told that, considering his age and the fact that he had served in two wars already, he didn’t have to go. He told them that if his boys were going, he was going. Although his unit was not slated for combat when they left, they wound up in combat. So, he had served in combat in three wars. He was one tough old dude, even in 1984. When we were introduced before the council I said, "It is nice to meet you, sir." He snarled back, "Don’t call me ‘sir,’ boy. I ain’t no officer. I work for a living! And I ain’t no educated preacher, neither. I am called by the Holy Ghost!" It didn’t look good for ole Larry.

          As the council time came to a close it was customary to allow the oldest minister there to ask the last question. Of course, no one was older than the 84 year old Melvin Paul. In asking the question, he started by telling me that in a council that size it was highly unlikely that I would get enough votes to confirm. (You needed some high percentage rather than a simple majority. I forget now what that percentage was) "If we don’t confirm you, what will you do then?" He was starting to irritate me. Every question he had asked had an edge to it. Had he asked the same question earlier I might have answered a little more diplomatically. Ah, well. "Brother, my call to preach doesn’t come from you or this council or this church. My call comes from God. If I am not confirmed I’ll just keep preaching somewhere." The council ended.

          I went into another room and sat with Marsha while they debated. We figured that the longer the debate went on, the better it would be. They came and got us in about five minutes. Not good, we thought. But, they did confirm. Unanimously. The church had their ordination service at 6:00. As the service ended I was called to the front of the church where I knelt before the congregation. Each minister who stayed came up individually and laid hands on me and prayed for my ministry. When Melvin Paul came up he laid those old warrior’s hands on my head and prayed the most moving prayer I had ever heard. He later told me that he had asked that same question at every council he had ever served on and I was the first to answer in just that way. “That’s the answer I always wanted. Ya’ll do well, boy.“

          All these years later it hardly seems possible that so much time has passed. The funny thing is that I remember the watermelons more than I remember anything else. Maybe it was because I had to get rid of them later. Even now, when I think of any ordination, and I have served on several councils, I can taste the watermelons.