My lawyer said, "Just follow my lead and answer the questions he asks, and everything will be okay." I clung to his advice as I entered the smartly decorated boardroom lined with towering bookshelves. The first thing I noticed was the videographer and stenographer setting up their equipment. Then the opposing counsel, who to me represented evil incarnate, walked into the room.
"Please state your full name for the record." His tone and mannerisms suggested this was strictly routine. For the others in the room, this was just another work day. They pushed buttons on the camera, they typed on the stenograph machine, they served coffee, they represented their clients—this was a 9-5 job for everyone in the room. Everyone, that is, except me.
I cleared my throat and said, "Ralph Webster Neighbour III."
"I am sure your lawyer has explained to you the deposition process, but let me explain it again for the record …"
There was that phrase again—"for the record." I thought: This is high stakes. The church's reputation and my future are on the line here! I also knew this deposition was just the beginning; we would walk at least another year through this legal maze.
I couldn't believe this was happening to me—a seventh generation pastor. But here I was, giving a deposition in a sexual misconduct lawsuit. This was not what I signed up for!
With the help of the Church on Brady (now called Mosaic), my wife Pam and I planted Inland Community Church in Chino, California, in 1984. Within five years we averaged 200 attenders, and then we went into overdrive.
At a "How to Break the 200 Barrier" conference, I heard John Maxwell ...