A Voice Writing in the Wilderness
My life is but a vapor, just like everyone else (Jas 4:14). I was the person living in darkness who saw a great light (Is 9:2; Mt 4:16). I was blind, but then I could see (Jn 9:25). I was slow to believe what the prophets had spoken, despite my Christian upbringing (Lk 24:25). My home and church environment were both deficient in the Scriptures (Amos 8:11). Still, I am not even sure how much of the Bible was preached in the churches of my childhood and youth because I did not have ears to hear (Mt 11:15). The salvation of an elect soul, however, comes at the Holy Spirit’s appointed time (Mt 3:11; Acts 2:38; 10:45; 11:16; Eph 1:4–5; 2:5; Col 2:13; 1 Pet 2:9).
What happened to me around age thirty is a miracle of grace (Eph 2:8–9). I confess it was not my will (Jn 1:13), nor was it my choice to be born again (Rom 11:5; 1 Pet 1:3). I made no conscious decision to make Jesus be my Savior. The fact is…He saved me (Titus 3:5).
Amazingly, the world did not take notice. It went about its business, as if Jesus had not regenerated my soul (Jn 3:1–8; Eph 2:5; Col 2:13; 1 Pet 1:3)! In fact, I, too, kind of went about my business not fully sure what had happened to me. The one thing that did occur was that the Bible came alive for me.
I began to hear things preached that I had never heard before. I began to see things on the pages of Scripture that left me awestruck. I could hear the voice of Christ directing my steps, as I went to Sunday School, Bible studies, and worship services (Prv 3:5–6; Jn 10:3–4).
Soon, major life decisions with uncertain consequences began to dominate me, my wife, and our six children. My assessment of the world, and the life I was living, was radically changed (see Ecclesiastes). My ambitions were transferred from Wall Street to a city where the streets are paved with gold (Rev 21–22). I am a citizen of that fair city, but I was born in this foreign land and have never seen that better country (2 Cor 5:20; Heb 11:16).
Little did I know that the journey to Zion would be on the boulevard of broken dreams. I was convinced that the success I found early in my financial career in the world would simply transfer to my new identity and work for the kingdom of God. I was convinced that God had big plans for me. I set my heart to study the Word of God (Ezra 7:10) because I could now see these were the words of eternal life (Jn 6:68). Absolutely nothing else satisfied the deepest longings in my heart.
My forsaking the world and my ambitions for success, wealth, and fame is now twenty-three years old. I threw my life away at the end of 1998 and threw myself at the merciful feet of the King of kings and Lord of lords (1 Tim 6:15). I knew who I had believed (2 Tim 1:12). I repeatedly prayed, “Here am I, Lord, send me (Is 6:8).”
At first, it was exhilarating. He directed my steps to Dallas, Texas, for seminary. Then, it was on to Aberdeen, Scotland, for post-graduate studies in church history. Things began to crumble in December of 2007, however. At first, the fissures were shocking, like one’s first earthquake experience. That soon came in Los Angeles.
Failure in the ministry followed failure in the ministry. I realized that whatever I was saying and doing did not resonate with most people in the church. Still, there were a few people who wanted what I was preaching and teaching. I grew increasingly unsure of my calling to be a pastor. It just got worse and worse.
Now in my sixth year out of the ministry of preaching, teaching, missions work, and pastoring (July 2015), I realize I am doing something I never imagined I would do. I am a voice writing in the wilderness. If I had only a few listeners in my preaching ministry, then it is right that I average four readers per article in my writing ministry, today (for most of the six years I have been writing, it was 3 readers…so things are looking up!).
After reading Iain Murray’s biography of Arthur Walkington Pink (20th century English pastor and writer), I always feared I was on the same path. A. W. Pink’s far superior intellect and grasp of the Scriptures offered me no solace on this lonely comparative course, however. Pink was far more gifted than me. His failure in multiple pastorates in the eastern United States, Los Angeles, and Australia, followed by a reclusive existence writing theology on the Isle of Lewis (Western Scotland), was a tragedy for this most capable preacher, but how indebted we all are for his gleanings from the Scriptures. God made beauty from ashes. His own generation missed the diamond in their midst, but subsequent generations have been his blessed beneficiaries.
Today, I write in reflection on God’s course for me in the ministry of His Word (1 Cor 9:17). First, I have an amazing wife, who labors at a minimum wage job (processing Medicare claims), along with my minimum wage job (transporting railroad crews) to support our family. Second, by His grace, I wake every morning with the singular ambition to know Christ and the power of His resurrection (Phil 3:10). His grace is sufficient for us.
This is a peculiar passion that impoverishes our family, yet I am constrained by God, and the humbling is always welcome, knowing that pride is ever crouching at the door. Despite our specifically appointed version of joining the sufferings of Christ’s body (Col 1:24), I remain controlled by His love and the Holy Spirit’s mission to gather God’s elect into Christ’s church (1 Cor 12:13; 2 Cor 5:14).
The apostle Paul wrote, “I suffer for the sake of the elect (2 Tim 2:10).” Just as I hesitate with any comparison to the life of Pink, I shy away even more from the comparison to the great apostle. I need a reference or two to make sense of my calling, election, and the stewardship entrusted to me.
Thus, today, I present myself as a voice writing in the wilderness. I live outside of the church establishment that I have grown leery and weary of, as did Arthur Pink. I remain most at home, alone in a coffee house, and I have spent most days over the past twenty-three years in this place of grace. It is where I meet Jesus on the pages of Scripture, and the occasional fellow pilgrim God sends my way to encourage me. At the end of the day, every day, I am an unprofitable slave (Lk 17:10), but it is my privilege to once again boast in my Master whose ways are higher than mine (Is 55:9; 1 Cor 15:31; Gal 6:14). May He alone be glorified in this ongoing albeit vaporous testimony of abounding grace.
David Norczyk
Spokane Valley, Washington
January 21, 2022
