Walking in the Footsteps of David Wilkerson

by Charles Simpson

  “I told you the Lord would meet our needs,” Lynn announced triumphantly.

  10

  “Don’t ever try to be anointed.”

  AS SOON AS WE RETURNED FROM OUR TWO-WEEK HONEYMOON ON THE shores of Narragansett, Rhode Island, I preached the Tuesday evening service at Times Square Church. People said it was the best message I’d ever preached. I guess I need more two-week vacations!

  Pastor Dave came up to me afterward and said, “Wow, married life already has done you a lot of good. That was a great message!” The next time I preached, Pastor Dave lingered around longer than usual. The only ones left in the building with me were John, my patiently waiting wife, and Pastor Dave. “Charles,” he began, “you’re like a son to me. And I want to treat you like I would Gary or Greg. So can I have permission to share at the end of your sermons some ways that I feel you could improve them?”

  “That would be awesome, Pastor Dave.”

  “One day, you’ll be preaching in various places, and if you can work out your little quirks now, it’ll make you that much more effective in the future.”

  “Thanks,” I said to him with sincerity and gratitude. “Can we start now? I mean, any recommendations about tonight’s message?”

  “Yes. I want you to get the tape and listen to it and notice that you said, ‘Amen?’ way too many times.” Sure enough, I counted twenty “amens” in my sermon and determined to no longer “amen” the congregation to death! If they don’t want to amen the “amen-able” parts of my sermon, then I shouldn’t force it.

  The next time I preached, it was a searing message from Hosea regarding how God sees our idolatry as spiritual adultery against Him.21 For the first time in my life, a number of people (mostly first-time visitors) approached me afterward and essentially said the same thing. “Here’s my address,” they would say as they handed me a business card or a piece of paper with their information scribbled on it. “If you ever put that sermon into book form, please let me know.”

  Pastor Dave said to me, “Are you ready for another tip?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “No matter how strong an Old Testament prophet’s message was, it always included words of hope and encouragement. So, we need to do the same. Have you ever noticed how Hosea’s last chapter is one of the most encouraging passages in the whole Old Testament?”

  The next time I got up to preach, I tried really hard not to say “amen” too many times. I also tried to add plenty of encouragement at the end of the message. I tried a little too hard and for a little too long. It was a good message, but it wasn’t a home run like some of my sermons. I take preaching very seriously and try my best to bring a word from the Lord to the congregation. I was hoping that Pastor Dave would once again pinpoint where I needed correction.

  “Charles,” he slowly began, choosing his words carefully as we were both standing on the stage together, “don’t ever try to be anointed. Just try to meet the needs of the people you’re ministering to, and the Lord will anoint you to do that. The anointing is to meet people’s needs and not for a show.”

  “Do you think I’m becoming showy?”

  “No, I don’t. I guess I was referring to myself, also. Have a seat,” he said as he motioned to a chair behind me. He sat next to me and continued. “When I pastored in Pennsylvania, people would come from all over to watch as I would minister in words of knowledge and words of wisdom.22 I could walk up and down the aisle of my crowded church, call people out, and read their mail. It was truly supernatural. One day, I left the parsonage after arguing with Gwen and I stepped into the pulpit to do my thing, and the Lord stopped me. He said to me, ‘David, My gifts are given to meet people’s needs, not to create a circus atmosphere. From now on, you will mainly use these gifts in private.’ When the gifts stopped flowing, the crowds soon left. And then, years later, while walking the streets of Brooklyn late at night, those gifts began to flow again. I’d walk up to an addict and the Lord would give me insight into what was going on deep in their heart. Then, hopefully, I would lead him to Christ. Just last night I spoke to a man on the streets at 3:00 in the morning—an addict named Joey. I knew his addiction started a few weeks after his father suddenly died, and I told him so. I expect to see him down here at the altar soon. My point is, the anointing is given to enable us to meet the needs of other people. Just focus on feeding the people God’s Word. Then the anointing of the Holy Spirit will be there to help you accomplish this.”

  I vigorously shook his hand, knowing that if I could firmly grasp all his suggestions, it would really help me grow as a faithful minister of God’s Word.

  As John was letting us out of the side entrance, Pastor Dave said, “Oh yes, one more thing. If you preach more than forty to forty-five minutes, you’re going to lose the people. The fastest way to ruin a good sermon is to go a little too long. If you can’t make your point in forty minutes, give it up!”

  “Told you,” Lynn quietly whispered to me.

  Pastor Dave was probably concerned that he was giving me too much correction. He soon made sure that I knew how he felt about my preaching. While having lunch with our mutual friend, a businessman named Don, he said to him that I was his favorite preacher. That very evening, Don called and told me about his luncheon with Pastor Dave and what he said about my being his favorite.

  The last tip I remember getting from Pastor Dave is the most piercing one of all. I was preaching a message about prayerlessness in the Church. I encouraged the lukewarm among us to stop making excuses and truly repent of having a wishy-washy, on-again, off-again prayer life and do something about it. “Don’t just come up to the altar week after week and then go back to the same busy lifestyle that essentially crowds God out and pushes prayer out of your schedule. Do you think church attendance will make up for your lack of prayer?” I then exhorted the congregation rather loudly, “Do you think a Mafia hitman giving a portion of his earnings to the church makes up for his murders?!” You could have heard a pin drop on the floor. Looking back now, I see that the illustration was too intense and didn’t really fit in a message geared toward encouraging people to pray more.

  Afterward, Pastor Dave told me that once I was done with altar counseling, he’d be waiting for me in the green room in the back. I tried to finish as soon as I could so that I wouldn’t keep him waiting for too long. About twenty minutes later, I made my way to the back room where Pastor Dave was sitting. “Charles, I think a father’s ceiling should be his children’s floor. I’d love to see you stand upon my shoulders and receive even greater blessings and revelations from God. That was some message you preached tonight. It actually reminded me…of me. In a good sense, and also in a not-so-good sense.”

  “What do you mean, Pastor Dave?” I remarked as I slowly sat down next to him.

  “I just received a letter today in the mail from Leonard Ravenhill, my mentor. I’d like you to read it.” He carefully handed it to me as though it were a valuable piece of jewelry. I slowly unfolded it and read:

  Dear Brother Dave,

  I have really enjoyed the cassette messages you recently sent to me, and I’ve listened to every single one of them. Finally, I’m hearing less of your own frustrations and more of the Lord’s heart for His imperfect Church through your sermons. Keep up the good work! Blessings, Len

  I carefully folded the letter and handed it back to him. “You’ve grown a lot in these years I’ve known you, Charles. Just be careful that you don’t become just like me. Don’t become overly frustrated with all the shortcomings of God’s people.”

  As Lynn and I got in our car and silently drove through the city to our apartment in Queens, I recalled all the times I heard Pastor Dave use that word frustrated. On multiple occasions I heard him say, “I’m so frustrated with the Charismatic church in America. What are they thinking? Don’t they have any fear of God in their hearts?”

  One day, he came out of his office and joined the pastoral staff prayer meeting, saying, “I just got off the phone wi
th the wife of a well-known minister. You all would know him if I said his name. He’s hooked on pornography, and she doesn’t know what to do. I’m so frustrated with situations like these.” Another month would hardly go by before another wife or son or staff member of a world-famous Charismatic television or radio preacher would call Pastor Dave, desperately asking how to handle the secret sinful behavior of the so-called “mighty man of God.” I personally observed Pastor Dave become a lightning rod for the relatives of well-known ministers. No wonder he got overly frustrated. Only Jesus can carry the burden of knowing all the junk that goes on behind the scenes in many of the major Christian ministries around the world.

  Pastor Dave’s younger son, Pastor Greg, who led the college and career ministry, asked me if I could fill in for him while he went on vacation. The Lord gave me a very strong message on making marriage and ministry an idol and how we can conquer those entrapments only by falling more deeply in love with Jesus. I tried to be very serious but at the same time not portray a God who is frustrated with our shortcomings. At the altar call, there was a literal explosion of repentance, with many dear young men and women profusely weeping their eyes out. Afterward, a deep sense of the presence of the Lord filled the room as the Lord confirmed His Word by giving everyone a taste of Heaven. In His presence there is fullness of joy!23 We all lingered in His presence for a long time, all the way into the early hours of the morning.

  “Wow, Charles,” Greg exclaimed after hearing the reports of the lives changed that night, “you really did an awesome job. It looks like I’ll be moving to Dallas in a few months, and if I do, I sure hope you can take over this group. You have a lot to impart to them.”

  I talked it over with Lynn, and she reminded me of my already over-extended schedule. “How many prayer meetings a week are you in charge of? Twelve? You only have one day off, and you’re so tired by then that you sleep half the day. And you want to do more?”

  “I’m sure if I take that group, they’ll get someone to take some of the things I’m doing now,” I reasoned.

  “Like when you started the hospital visitation ministry, someone was supposed to take the AIDS ministry from you. That was a year ago, and you’re still waiting for that. I don’t know, honey.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just discuss it with Pastor Dave and see what he thinks.”

  A few weeks later, Pastor Dave and I were together in his office. “Pastor Dave, what would you say if I was considering asking you if I could take over the college ministry when Greg leaves?”

  “Are you not already too busy? Actually Charles, that brings up something that’s been on my heart for a while. You’re a pastor and not just an associate. I can’t be selfish and hold on to you forever.”

  “Pastor Dave, I’ll gladly be like a Daniel Nash to your Finney for the rest of my life. I don’t mind staying in the background and making my main focus praying for you and praying for this church.”

  “No, Charles. It would be wrong of me to hold you back from your calling as a pastor. Look at all the people who line up after every service to speak with you. You have a true shepherd’s heart. Your counseling skills are amazing, especially since you have no formal training in that area. When it comes to pastoring, you’re such a natural. Deep in my heart, I know this. About once a month I receive calls from churches asking if we’ve raised up and trained any spiritual sons who are ready to take on established pastorates. I’d like to direct some of those inquiries your way. I think you’re ready.”

  My drive home was hard. I arrived home rather downcast.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Lynn immediately asked. “Does Pastor Dave not think you’re ready to take on pastoring the college kids?”

  “He actually thinks I’m even more ready than that! He wants to start recommending me to pastoral search committees!”

  A few days later, Pastor Dave got a call from a large church in Chicago whose pastor had recently passed away. “This church is one of the largest Charismatic churches in the nation,” Pastor Dave said to me. “It’s a lot of responsibility, but I think you can handle it.”

  When I shared with Lynn, it fell flat as a pancake. “I don’t wanna leave New York City, and my mom, and my culture. Chicago? I have no burden for Chicago!” She cried a lot for the next few days, and when the opportunity closed, she was so relieved.

  Actually, Pastor Dave was the one who closed the door. Wanting to be sure he didn’t send one of his spiritual sons onto a Titanic, he called that church’s treasurer and asked about its financial health. Turns out, his hunch was right, and the church was over five hundred thousand dollars in the red. “Don’t touch that with a ten-foot pole,” Pastor Dave told me. But the nest had been stirred, and the tears about leaving had begun.

  A few weeks later, I was scheduled to perform a funeral service for a dear member who passed away from HIV. “Look at this,” I remarked to my wife as I read the map of where we had to go on Saturday afternoon. “Karla lived near Philadelphia. She drove to Times Square Church three times a week, even when she was really sick.” Later in the day, our home phone rang. We were in the middle of dinner so we let the answering machine get it. We could hear the person on the other end say, “Hi, this is Bob. I’m the head of the pastoral search committee at Trinity Assembly in Scottsdale, Arizona. David Wilkerson gave me your number and said I could call you. We’ve been looking for a pastor for over a year now and…”

  Lynn remarked, “Scottsdale, Arizona. I am not moving to Arizona!”

  The message continued: “I have a business meeting in Philadelphia this coming Sunday and will be flying in a little early. If you’d like to drive down on Saturday, I’ll treat you to dinner and we can talk about this further.” He then left his number and hung up.

  Lynn and I looked at each other, and she said, “Well, it looks like we’ll be in Philadelphia at exactly the same time. How about that?”

  “I guess we should look into it,” I remarked.

  The next Saturday evening we were in a fancy steakhouse talking to Bob about his church. He said, “We’ve been searching for a pastor for well over a year.”

  “Why haven’t you been able to find one?” I replied with both Tennessee kindness and New York frankness. My boldness choked him up a bit, or perhaps it was just his well-done steak.

  “Well,” he continued, “we’re a unique church. Almost all our members subscribe to Pastor Dave’s newsletters, and we really resonate with his messages. We’ve had Leonard Ravenhill in to do seminars on repentance and revival. There are not that many Bible college graduates who would fit into that type of church. Anyway, I have a guesthouse behind my swimming pool, so why don’t you two take an all-expense paid vacation to Scottsdale. If it’s not God, I’ll still make sure you have an awesome vacation. All I ask of you is that you preach for us on Sunday morning while you’re there.”

  We accepted his invitation, and I polished up the strongest message I’ve ever preached. Might as well give them the hardest word I had. If they didn’t like it, they would eventually not like me, so I figured I had nothing to lose by being totally upfront. The congregation actually loved it. They were tired of the wishy-washy, feel-good, don’t-offend-anyone sermons that ministerial candidates usually preach when they “try out” for a pulpit. To my surprise, that afternoon the church met and voted me in as their senior pastor, if I would accept the offer. Lynn felt that the Lord told her, “If you go, I’ll bless you.” Amazingly, she was ready to pack up and head west.

  “I need more time to pray and discuss this with my leaders at Times Square Church,” I finally said to Bob and the rest of the eagerly waiting search committee members. “I’ll give you an answer in two weeks. Is that OK?”

  “Fair enough,” they said, and we headed to the Phoenix airport.

  The first person I spoke with about Scottsdale was Pastor Bob. I told him about the funeral in Philly, about meeting Bob, how the church had guest speakers like Leonard Ravenhill, and how Lynn felt peace about going.r />
  “So what’s the problem, Charles? It seems there’s still something major that’s bothering you.”

  “Pastor Bob, you know when I pastored in the South Bronx, the Mott Haven section has the lowest income level in the country. But Scottsdale! Scottsdale is where millionaires and billionaires live.”

  “I understand. I too was prejudiced against rich people once. I used to avoid wealthy Christians until the Lord showed me how wrong that is and how prejudiced I was against them. I bet if you take that position, you’ll find that many of those rich Christian men and women love Jesus just as much as you do.”

  His words cut to the heart and revealed an area of prejudice in me that I had never seen before. I had taken a lot of pride in not being prejudiced against African Americans, Hispanics, or any other minority. I would often joke about my first church in the Bronx being 50 percent black, 49 percent Hispanic, and 1 percent me. But it would be wrong for me not to go to Scottsdale just because it was a wealthy town. Perhaps I needed to learn how to relate to rich people, just as others need to learn how to appreciate poor minorities. I didn’t want to leave Pastor Dave and Pastor Don and Times Square Church, yet I knew I needed to prayerfully consider moving to another strange new world: the Southwest, the suburbs of Phoenix, Arizona.

  The next day, I eagerly resumed my regular routines, which included daily Bible reading. I’d been going through the Book of Acts in my New King James Bible, the first time reading through the Bible in that particular version. My mouth opened wide as I read this passage:

  And because the harbor was not suitable to winter in, the majority advised to set sail from there also, if by any means they could reach Phoenix, a harbor of Crete opening toward the southwest and northwest, and winter there (Acts 27:12).