This morning the young people of our Christian school surprised me with a party in honor of the 25th anniversary of my call to the ministry. After having a good time with the kids, I decided to sit down at the computer and recall what God hath wrought.

On March 20, 1972, I surrendered to what I believe was and is the call of God upon my life. Not only did God call me to preach, but I believe He has specifically called me to the work of the pastorate.

Having trusted Christ on Feb. 11, 1968, at the age of 14, it wasn't but just a few years before I began to feel the tug of God upon my heart about the ministry. I didn't know for sure what was going on, though, and because other young people in our church were surrendering to "full time service," I dismissed any thoughts of God calling me. I reasoned that I was just feeling stirred because of the call of God upon my friends.

On Nov. 19, 1971, I married Jane Giddens. Having just entered the U.S. Navy for a four years of active duty, we traveled to Havre de Grace, Maryland for my first duty station after boot camp, a 14-week period of training as a Radioman. We didn't know much, but we knew we were supposed to be in church, so we immediately joined the First Baptist Church of Havre de Grace.

We jumped in with both feet. We didn't miss a service. The church started a bus ministry, and Mrs. O'Neal and I began visiting on Saturdays and riding the bus on Sundays. The church started a coffee house ministry, and we helped with that. In that ministry I led my second soul to Christ.

During this time, my heart was troubled, as I began once again, without any of my old friends around, to feel that God might be calling me to preach. I already had plans for my life. My goal was to be a comic book artist. I was already being published in amateur fan publications, some of which were paying me. I was going to try to break into professional comic book art work part time and free lance while in the Navy. Then we would move to New York City to try to go full time.

There was an older man in the church whom I respected. He must have been at least 40. I asked him, "How does a person know if God is calling him to preach?"

As I recall, he replied something like this: "Well, I can't really say that I know the answer to that. I will tell you this, though: I have two brothers. One of them is in the ministry. He is doing really well. He has started several churches, and he has won many souls to Christ. My other brother is in a mental institution. He claims to be saved, but his mind is gone. I remember him telling me that he first started having trouble with his nerves when he felt that God was calling him to preach, and he wasn't willing to do it."

Wow.

I didn't give the matter a great deal more of thought, although I must admit that the elder brother's counsel certainly got my attention. Our church was having revival services, and Mrs. O'Neal and I went every night. I thought the guest evangelist looked a little worldly, but he sure could preach.

Then one night, during the invitation, God gripped my heart. There was no doubt about it; I KNEW God wanted me to be a preacher. It was a crisis experience for me. It was not a question of what was the will of God for my life; it was a question of whether or not I was going to do that will. I moved out of the pew and headed for the front of the church. I don't know what my wife thought. I hadn't said one word to her about God's dealings with my heart about the ministry. I hadn't said anything to anybody except for the one "senior" brother.

When the pastor presented me to the congregation, Mrs. O'Neal may have thought I was "rededicating my life." Perhaps you can imagine her surprise when he announced, "God has called Brother Mike to preach!"

My wife was stunned. She didn't marry a preacher. She married a man who was going to be a comic book artist in New York City. Thankfully, the Lord touched her heart, and she adapted over the next few years as God molded her into the kind of woman a pastor needed for a wife. Meanwhile, I told the Lord that I was sorry for doubting His call, and that if He opened the doors for me to preach, I would not hesitate.

Within just a few days I was to be transferred to my first regular duty station in Pensacola, Florida. The pastor said, "Now when you get to Florida, have your church license you. We would do it, but there is just not enough time." I said, "Okay," but I knew I wouldn't ask anyone to license me. I'm not good at asking people to do things toward me when I would rather they initiated their own actions.

On a Sunday night after arriving in Pensacola, Mrs. O'Neal and I joined the First Baptist Church of Cantonment, Florida. After the service, a man in the church invited us to join several couples at his house for refreshments. Eventually the question came up: "What do you plan to do when you get out of the Navy?"

"Well," I said, "I just surrendered to God's call to preach in a revival meeting at our last church just before we left Maryland."

"Is that right?" the man asked. "How about that! You know, I am in charge of the Men's Brotherhood. We meet this Thursday night. Would you come and bring the message for us?"

Immediately I remembered my promise to God to not hesitate to preach when He opened the door. I just hadn't expected it to happen so soon. I didn't know how to preach. I didn't know what to preach. I didn't know how to make an outline.

"Yes, sir!" I replied. "I would be honored.".

I was scared to death. I worked feverishly over the next few days trying to get some notes together. This wasn't just any small event; this was my first sermon ever, and it was to the men of the First Baptist Church!

I honestly don't remember a lot about that first sermon, but the Lord got me through it. At the close, the pastor, Bruce French, walked over to me and said, "Brother Mike, that was a blessing. I want you to preach to our main congregation Sunday night." Again I remembered my promise to the Lord. Then he added, "But I would like a favor. Would you mind preaching that exact, same message on Sunday night to the church as a whole?"

"Sure!" I said. Actually, I was relieved more than I could say. I had preached everything I knew and then some. There's no way I could have come up with something different between Thursday night and Sunday night. I didn't KNOW anything else.

On Friday night I received a telephone call from Pastor French. "Hi, Mike. Listen. I told a pastor friend at the Farm Hill Baptist Church about you, and he wants you to preach at their men's Brotherhood breakfast early Sunday morning before Sunday School." I was stunned. "The only thing is, he says he would like you to preach the same message which you preached for us. I told him how much I enjoyed it. Could you do that?"

"Why, certainly!" I said. "Thank GOD!" I thought, relieved that I didn't have to hurriedly try to prepare another sermon.

So, within the first week of arriving in Pensacola, the Lord opened three doors of opportunity for me to preach. No, I wasn't licensed. I never did ask to be licensed. As a matter of fact, I just kept on preaching as God opened the doors, and I never got licensed until three and a half years later, when Irick Polin of the Fellowship Baptist Church of Charleston, South Carolina, licensed me as a show of support and endorsement as I prepared to start my first church in Bay Minette, Alabama.

No, I never went to school. Within a couple of months of surrendering to the ministry, the Lord led me to leave the Southern Baptist Convention, never to return. My first fundamental Baptist pastor, Jim Fellure, took me under his wing and began teaching me to study and to read.

From March 20, 1972 until September, 1975, I read my Bible through several times, and I built up a small library, reading and studying everything I could get my hands on by Ruckman, Hyles, Rice, E.M. Bounds, Ravenhill, Pink, DeHaan, Strauss, Sauer, Larkin, Walvoord, Chafer, Spurgeon, Unger, David Otis Fuller, Edward F. Hills, J.J. Ray, and others.

I was on a shift in the Navy of 24 hours on, three days off. On my off days I went with my pastor and watched what he did, doing everything he allowed me to do, which over the next two and a half years included times of preaching in the main auditorium, preaching in junior church, preaching on the radio, preaching on the street, teaching the teen Sunday School class, organizing a teen soul-winning club, leading the congregational singing, driving the Sunday School bus, visiting the sick, the backslidden, and the lost, and disputing the scriptures with every kind of heretic you could meet.

I am so very grateful for the Lord allowing me to be in the ministry for the last quarter of a century. I tremble when I think of how little I have accomplished during that time, and I am thankful for His mercy in letting me continue to hold forth the word of life publicly.

If the Lord will allow me, I would rather not retire from the ministry after 25 years. Rather, I would like to renew my efforts today to be faithful to HIS call upon my life. My parents didn't call me to this ministry; they don't understand to this day why I am a preacher instead of an artist. My wife didn't call me to be a pastor; she was shocked when the announcement was made. GOD called me to preach. I know that.

If it seems at times that I am a little careless about offending the brethren with how and what I preach, I guess it is because that I realize that "the brethren" had nothing to do with my call. I did not seek their approval then, and I don't seek their approval today. I preached for years before I was licensed, and I did not asked to be licensed. I pastored for years before I was ordained, and I did not ask to be ordained.

In the last several weeks closing out my 25th year, we have seen a number of souls saved, and we have baptized converts four out of the last five weeks. That's more than I deserve; I deserve to be in hell. Last Sunday we had nine adult first time visitors at church.

One new couple has taken Mrs. O'Neal and me out to eat three times in the last week, given us both attache cases, and showered kindness upon us as if we were their own children. Monday I led their 17-year-old son to Christ.

Last year, Pastor Tom Cassidy and the folks at First Baptist Church of Spring Valley, California, spent several hundreds of dollars on us in treating us to a very special 25th wedding anniversary. Mrs. O'Neal and I were overwhelmed.

Pastor Ken Weaver and the folks at Grace Independent Baptist Church in Moultrie, Georgia, gave me the largest love offering I have ever received for just preaching two nights for them in a missions conference recently.

Both of these cases were the result of my sitting in front of a keyboard and sending messages out over the Internet. You can say what you will, but I will always believe that GOD was the author of those blessings. Both acts of kindness were uncalled for.

THE LORD IS GOOD.

Thank God for "the brethren," but when it comes to my call to the ministry, they don't even figure in. The brethren don't even get a vote. I owe the Lord too much to do otherwise. If that means I am going to appear to have a bad attitude, then so be it. If it means "the brethren" reject me, well, that's okay, too. God's been too true to me, too faithful, and too kind, for me to waste ONE SECOND worrying about what "the brethren" think about my ministry.

I've been kicked out of one church, off of two radio stations, off an Internet email list, and I've been thrown in jail. That's okay. At this time I have pastored one church for nearly 11 years, God is blessing, my people love me, my wife of 25 years loves the Lord, my children are active in our church, my grandchildren think I'm the best paw-paw in the world, and I'm as happy as a man can be.

To God alone be the glory.