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My son, Bennett, and I returned home about 8:30. With my wife and daughter out of town, Bennett and I decided to give away quarters at the mall. He calls it "going to the arcade."

We needed the time together, father and son, and I needed a break from thinking about church. After seven fairly smooth years, I had made an unpopular decision involving a popular staff member, and a group of church members, small but vocal, was calling for my head.

The evening was a good distraction and I had relaxed a bit, until we turned down our street. Under the streetlight in front of our house sat three men. I didn't like the looks of this. Even at a distance, I knew they were from the church.

"Go on upstairs, get your shower, and go to bed," I told Bennett. "I'll check on you later." And I walked toward the three men on the curb.

Dear Jezebel
My wife, Liz, and I liked to say that we'd never had a bad day in the ministry. Oh, sure, sometimes things didn't go as we planned—the budget fluctuated or a service didn't come off well—but no really bad days. Until I decided to make a staff change.

The church was growing and because of that we faced new challenges. It appeared to me that after 24 years, it was time a new worship leader. Our music minister was a valuable part of our team, but it appeared to me he was in the wrong place now, given the times and our needs. He was gifted in other areas, skills we needed, and I approached him about making a move.

He resisted.

For a year he resisted. My recommendation and his resistance both became public. Some people took sides, and the debate grew hot. Given his longevity, I debated whether I should leave. The two most visible ministers can't be at cross purposes for such an extended period without crippling the church. Finally I made the strategic decision only I could make. I asked him to resign.

By then a group of about two dozen people had made it their goal to force me to resign. Before long, I wanted to. I really wanted to.

We had a business meeting on the calendar the day the staff member announced his resignation. I wondered how it would play out. After a few routine reports, one man stood up and announced the amount of my salary. "That's how much you make," he stated, "and you're not worth what we pay you!"

That unleashed a three-hour barrage of insults and accusations. As moderator, I was required to remain neutral, even though the attacks were mostly about me. I didn't want to keep silent, but by God's grace, I did.

In the next months, I wanted to leave the church. I didn't want out of ministry, just out of Pensacola. I prayed fervently, "God, I'll go to Toadsuck, Arkansas, if you'll send me there. Just find me a place, send a pulpit committee, and I'll go."

Why is it you never hear from a pulpit committee when you need one? I stuck it out, even though I hated going to the office. I knew more vicious reports would greet me each day. It grew really nasty.

The attacks not aimed at me targeted my wife. Liz is active in the music program, often writing special holiday programs and celebrations that draw thousands each year. She had worked closely with the staff member I asked to resign. Word soon went around that the termination was her idea. "He's just doing his wife's bidding" is a remark I heard more than once. One time Liz received an anonymous letter at our home, pages of hurtful assaults. The envelope was addressed to Jezebel.

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