Tattoos, Marlboros, and Ministry: Lessons from My Favorite Unconventional Deacon

One of my favorite deacons had more tattoos than teeth. Herbie was the lone deacon at my first church, a rural congregation of six people. I was in my mid-twenties, serving the church bi-vocationally. The trip was two hours one way to get there. Four-wheel drive was required on some home visits. I was a terrible pastor, lacking experience, preaching skills, and maturity. I led worship, too—from an old karaoke machine. My lone deacon occasionally smoked during the service. The smell of Marlboros ...