Pastor Ethan Foss was pointed in the direction West Point, as far back as junior high. He had the grades and everything that goes with an application lined up. He characterizes it as the way he rebelled. Ethan is the son of a pastor (cum- contractor), preaching in the Buckston, Limington and Hollis area, in the woods ofsSouthern Maine. Faith was the center of his family, something Ethan hadn’t reckoned with. That changed when he went on a teenage mission trip to Raleigh, NC, to give a series of weekly camps for needy kids. He’d never seen a playground that daily was covered with a new layer of broken glass. He’d never been to homes with used syringe needles on the floor. At the end of the week, he was heart-broken to return his young charges to their homes. And that’s when the questions began: was God telling him to go to Bible college instead of West Point? The questions continued into Bible college and at some point, he surrendered. He went on to earn degrees in pastoral and theological studies and an MA in Christian ministry. Sometime in there, he also reversed his feelings about missionaries. Again, he questioned God because he was used to believing missionaries as being arrogant people going on God vacations. Ethan came to realize that being a missionary is part of being a Christian, whether abroad or in your own backyard. It’s a journey that has led him from Maine to Portugal and back, which is now at First Baptist Church in Waldoboro with his wife Laura and their three children.
We’d come back from Portugal for the delivery of our third child when we got invited to a dinner at First Baptist in Waldoboro for the missionaries they support. And there I was, sitting at the dinner table with one of the elders and one of the deacons looking at me and saying, “Hey, you know we don’t have a pastor.” And then they said, “Would you be willing to consider that role?”
It happened that we’d already scheduled a trip to Ireland. Laura and I weren’t sure we were done being missionaries. And we’d always had our hearts on Ireland. In the beginning Ireland was closed to missionaries which is why we went to Portugal. But things seemed to be opening up, so we scheduled some meetings with pastors there, and then Waldoboro asked for us. said, “Sure. Let’s see what God does.”
And while we were considering Waldoboro and First Baptist, we went to Ireland and met with those pastors. It was not what we expected. Being Americans and not Irish was a hindrance. And our enthusiasm – it wasn’t in their culture. It was sad at first. But then we saw how God was closing one door and opening another.
So, here we are, in our mid-30s, living, serving and ministering here. Which is funny because Laura and I always used to say, “When we retire, we’ll live in Mid-coast Maine.” That was how much we’ve always liked this corner of Maine.
We’ve been here since the end of July. And on August 4th, we began reading from the book of First Peter.
I have always related to Peter. He was a rough guy. He was brash. He was arrogant. He was cocky. I’m a little bit rough and rumble. I struggle with anger. And stress. I often say things and then I’m putting my foot in my mouth after the fact. And we are supposed to seek to be humble.
Peter was the chief of the doubters. About a year and a half ago, I was struggling with my own trust in what we were doing there. We were in Portugal, and I couldn’t stop wanting to be either in Ireland or Maine. I was arguing with God all the time: “Why is this so difficult, Lord? Why is being here a struggle?” And that turned into a season of life where my wife and I were both doubting our purpose there, and what we were supposed to be doing.
I had to humble myself and quiet my mind. I had to choose again to take advantage of God, prayer and study. I had to commit myself to the counsels of my Christian brothers and sisters and admit what I was struggling about, and say, “Can you pray for me? Can you talk this through? Can you remind me of the truth of God’s word?”
When Peter was writing that letter, he’d become a gentle, humble-spirited pastor, ministering to people who were suffering for their faith. I thought, “If I’m ever given the opportunity to preach through a book in the Bible, I’d love for it to be First Peter.” I didn’t know back then that I’d be here today.
In First Peter, we are not supposed to be surprised when trials come. We’re not supposed to be surprised when we are suffering. Suffering tests and refines and proves our faith. Suffering produces endurance and steadfastness. And it produces a true, unfathomable sense of joy in who God is. Crises of faith are a good thing. They are the chance to see how great God it, and how finite man is.
We’re supposed to try to be humble. But just like in Peter, it’s God who has to humble me, and that’s almost always more painful than if I had just chosen to be humble in the first place.
A couple of times I’ve delivered a sermon and thought, “Wow, I knocked this one out of the ballpark!” But then afterwards, people came up to me – I kid you not — and said, “I was really surprised at the amount of pride you had.” That hasn’t happened at First Baptist, thanks to God, but I’m sure it will sometime.
On the flip side, I’ve left the pulpit and thought, “Oh boy, I did not communicate that well. I really let people down.” Yet afterwards, people came up to me in tears to thank me for being obedient to God’s word.
I think humility comes in places where we don’t expect it. But it also can be an intentional discipline. I’m always being shown that I have no idea what I’m doing.
I am finishing First Peter this Sunday. One of his concluding remarks is that no matter what, we are not alone. God is always there.
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