I experienced a different kind of midlife crisis.

My wife, Lisa, and I were happy in our hometown of Sidney, Montana. Our children attended the same schools in which we grew up. Our parents, siblings and grandparents lived nearby. Holidays were loud and joyful as four generations celebrated together.

Our local Assemblies of God church was like a second extended family. The congregation included many young couples raising their kids alongside our four. We gathered at their homes for Bible studies and barbecues, sat together at school programs, and cheered for one another’s kids during sporting events.

It was the quintessential small-town life, and we loved it.

Then, following a community evangelistic outreach, I awoke in the middle of the night with an overwhelming feeling God was calling me into full-time ministry. I sensed Him saying, “Take up your cross and follow me.”

There were no specifics. Just that one imperative statement I knew meant full-time ministry.

Initially, I resisted. I was in my mid-30s with an established career. I told God I was too old, couldn’t sing, and had no biblical training.

Nevertheless, I left teaching and started a flooring business, wanting to be available for whatever God asked me to do.

Seven years of waiting passed. My business flourished, and a Christian preschool that Lisa started quadrupled in size. I wondered whether I had missed something or God had changed His mind.

Early one Sunday, I brought my questions to the Lord. I still didn’t have an answer when I arose from praying. However, the guest speaker’s message during church later that morning felt like an arrow straight to my heart.

Lisa sensed it, too. Afterward, she said, “Does God have to hit you over the head with a two-by-four?”

I replied, “I think He just did.”

That afternoon, we agreed I should enroll at Assemblies of God Theological Seminary in Springfield, Missouri. Neither Lisa nor I had ever been to Missouri, but we both believed God was directing us there.

After selling our home, resigning our church volunteer positions, and giving the preschool to another teacher, we said tearful goodbyes to family members and friends.

We moved our family into a two-bedroom apartment in Nixa, Missouri, a suburb of Springfield. I laid flooring between seminary classes.

I awoke in the middle of the night with an overwhelming feeling God was calling me into full-time ministry.

Although we missed Montana, we came to appreciate the beauty and milder winters of the Missouri Ozarks. Before long, we were putting down roots.

We became involved in a local AG church. Our youngest two children were progressing through the public schools. They made new friends, and so did we.

The flooring business was booming. We built our dream home — more than 6,000 square feet on three wooded acres near Nixa — doing as much of the work ourselves as possible.

As I neared the end of my master’s degree program, one of my class assignments involved developing a five-year ministry plan and sharing it with a leader who could partner with me.

I still didn’t know what God wanted me to do. Lisa and I were both former teachers, so we thought about ministering to educators. I submitted a plan, but that door never opened.

Seventeen months after moving into the new house, I received a call from Alan Warneke, then the assistant superintendent of the Montana Ministry Network. He asked us to consider returning to pastor a small, struggling church in Baker.

My first response was, “No.”

This was the last thing I expected. I knew how difficult rural ministry could be. Yet after praying and surrendering to God, I became certain this was where He was leading me.

Four years after giving up a life we loved to move from Montana to Missouri, we prepared to do the same thing in reverse. We sold our Missouri home and settled in a modest parsonage across the parking lot from Baker Assembly of God.

At first, I maintained daily office hours in the church. But I eventually asked my board whether I could lay flooring a couple of days per week.

The people of Baker are workers — farmers, ranchers, oilfield roughnecks, pipeliners, grocery clerks, teachers and nurses. They don’t typically drop by a pastor’s office, but they will chat with the guy who is installing their carpet.

I believe pastoring in a small town means serving the whole community, not just the church people. The congregation understood that vision, freeing me to think beyond the walls of our building.

In 2019, we started a nonprofit coffee shop. It has become a gathering place for local residents and a point of connection between our congregation and the broader community. The funds support benevolence giving, ministry projects, and missions.

Recently, Lisa and I became aware of a desperate need in our community for first responders. So, we both underwent training and became emergency medical technicians. We see it as another way to care for and minister to hurting people.

This is not the life we expected. Yet we know it is what God wants for us — and in His will is exactly where we belong. When a midlife crisis turns out to be a ministry calling, the best response is obedience.