From Cats in the Outhouse to Riding in a Police Car: My Journey in Ministry

By Pastor Barry Ashbrook

From Cats in the Outhouse to Riding in a Police Car: My Journey in Ministry has been a wonderful walk down memory lane, which has brought me real belly laughs. But also, it has reminded me of the frailty of life and how quickly things can change and plunge us into deep sorrow.

My experience with two barn-raised cats will always remind me that you never know what you're getting into until you get into it. These two cats pushed my patience to the limit and caused me to wonder that maybe dogs are a man's best friend.

I wish I could say that most of my ministry has been "fun" things like that, but as you will read in this book, life has a way of lifting you to the highest of plains just to send you crashing down to the ground, leaving you bruised and battered!

To stand beside the grave of a two-year-old and try to explain why a young mother will never be able to hold her baby, this side of heaven is a place I wouldn't wish on anyone. However, on that same note, to be able to share with that same mother that Jesus is the resurrection and the life and that she will again see her young son brings great elation and satisfaction.

In this book, you will meet people who will make you wonder, "What were they thinking?" and then you will meet people who you wish you could have known because they have loved me with an undying love.

Jump in and discover that life can be rough, but God is always there to catch us.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638447214

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From Cats in the Outhouse to Riding in a Police Car

My Journey in Ministry

Pastor Barry Ashbrook

Copyright © 2021 by Pastor Barry Ashbrook

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

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To my wife, Rosemary. She is my soul mate, my lover, my best friend, and my partner in ministry.

When we were dating and were standing in church together, she would sometimes slip off one of her high heels and drop down what seemed like a foot. For fun, I started calling her Shorty, and to this day, whenever I refer to her, it is by that name.

This August 12, 2020, we have been married for forty-eight years. The years that we went together as boyfriend and girlfriend, plus our engagement, add another four to five years to the forty-eight.

My honey, as I often refer to her, has been a wonderful wife, a most excellent mother to our two children, and for these thirty-five years of ministry, the best pastor’s wife that any minister could dream of having. In fact, because of our partnership in ministry, I believe the people of our church would accept her as pastor in my absence. There are many pastors who do not care to have their wives involved in their ministry, but I have felt such support from Shorty that my ministry has only profited by her involvement.

Much of who our children are today is because of their mother’s love, Christian teaching, and example.

Shorty’s soft hand has comforted me in many a conflict. When our grandson was born, and I watched her hold him to her chest and tenderly stroke his forehead, I wish I could somehow be small enough to be held by her in that same manner.

Shorty, I love you and pledge myself to you forever.

Introduction

This book contains events that have made up the largest portion of my life. The things contained herein have left a permanent impression upon my soul. They are as etchings upon cave walls or initials carved in a tree; they will be with me until I die.

As a young boy playing around a big tree near our apartment, I would have never guessed in a million years where and how I would spend the major part of my grown-up life.

The ministry has been a great challenge, pushing me to the limits of self-examination and commitment. However, I would like to introduce, and I plan to end this writing with a couple of verses from Paul’s writing:

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:7–14)

I hope that as you read this writing, it will inspire you to think of where God has brought you from and, by his grace, will take you.

1

God’s Call

To fan the flame of the gospel and the call to preach, came one evening at a camp meeting of the Virginia district of the Wesleyan church. I do not recall the message of that evening, nor the exact words God spoke to my heart, but I knew God was about to make a change in my life.

It was as Shorty and I were traveling home to Hopewell from Blackstone, Virginia, where the camp meeting was being held that I began to tell her what I had felt in the service.

Route 460 East was a dark four-lane road, but the darkness and quietness of the drive seemed to make it so easy to share what I felt. I was not sure of any of the details concerning when or how God would bring things about. I only knew that I wanted to be used by God for his service.

As I recalled, I kept my eyes forward on the road the entire time, wondering what Shorty would think of my announcement. After I told her what I had felt God was telling me, there was a few moments of silence, and then Shorty said, God called me too. My heart felt so relieved that she would be in agreement with my decision, yet we both felt an immediate fear of committing ourselves to ministry.

I turned the car around and went back to the campground, where my pastor, Edsel Burgess, was staying. We just had to tell him about our decision. Brother Burgess seemed unsurprised at our news; in fact, he said to his wife, Donna, I knew it was just a matter of time that this would happen. We left for home the second time that night. That, I believe, was 1977. We were driving a 1975 Chevrolet Impala. Our daughter, Kimberly, was in the back seat. She was two years old, and I was twenty-three.

Some time had gone by, and one day at work, God reminded me of his call. I was sitting in a warehouse office, taking a break and reading out of my little New Testament that I kept in my black plastic lunchbox. The scripture that I was reading was Romans 10:14–15, How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’

God’s spirit flooded my soul, and again I knew God wanted me to make a move. However, the fear of being called to some little white church in the outermost and fear of my family living in poverty caused me to move very slowly toward the goal of full-time ministry.

Within the next few years, our home church in Hopewell changed over to a new pastor. He was a man who wanted to see people come to the Lord, no matter what their race or nationality. My father-in-law, Jewel Nichols who was the milkman for our city, gave him new names of families that moved into the area so the pastor could go and see them.

As the different races of people began coming to our church and even desired to become members, I discovered that there was an underlying prejudice among some in the church. I remember one time, one of our young people refused to accept the offering plate that was being passed by a young Black man. I later discovered that this was only the outer layer of their prejudice; it was deeply ingrained in them by years of family prejudice.

Shortly thereafter, others began to show their dislike that people of color and other nationalities were attending our all-White church. Our pastor was given an ultimatum by some of the leaders, that he was not to knock on any more doors unless Whites lived there. It was more than our pastor could take, and so he resigned after being there for only eight months.

I was a member of the local board of administration at that time, and I was ashamed of those who were showing such hatred toward fellow Christian brothers and sisters just because their skin was not the same color as theirs. I decided I could no longer be a part of the church, so I resigned from my position on the board and left the church where I had been attending since I was six years old and where I was married and saw my children baptized. Leaving was the hardest thing I had ever done. I became depressed and constantly struggled with where to lead my family to church. We tried several churches in the community but always felt homesick for our home church.

One particular Sunday morning, after getting ready to go to yet another new church, I decided I wasn’t going anywhere. I was just tired of the