Pastor-Teacher

Born Twice
It is said that no one likes change except a wet baby. Well, not “no one.” Maybe I’m an exception. Not only did I not mind the many changes in my growing-up years, I relished them. I lived in twelve houses by the time I was 18—in Idaho, Kansas, Wyoming, California, Ohio, Nevada. New cities, new schools, new friends regularly afforded me the opportunity of a fresh start. If there was something I didn’t like about myself, I could start from ground zero after a move…no history, no expectations. However, try as I could (and I did), I could not change my heart.
In one of those moves we relocated to where my grandmother lived in Boise, ID. She invited us to her church, and there, I met Donna, a substitute Sunday School teacher for the summer. Donna was bright, bubbly, engaging—her personality drew me to listen to what she had to say. I knew nothing of the Bible, or this man Jesus she kept talking about. But I was hooked. Jesus, she said, could change my heart. I asked questions. I listened. Some things made sense…others, not so much. Donna urged me to keep asking questions, to keep seeking to understand. To read the Bible. And I did. I read it twice cover-to-cover in my jr. high years. That was when I learned what I instinctively knew about myself: the human heart is “desperately wicked” (Jer. 17:9). And that is the piece that is critically essential before anyone will cry out for a Savior. Just as a paratrooper jumping from a plane needs a parachute, so my desperately wicked heart needed a Savior. My trust in Jesus gave me both a Savior and a changed heart—I was born a second time.

Call to Ministry
Outside or inside? Which side of the door? I’d worked my way up to the rank of Eagle Scout, and I loved all the outside stuff Scouting afforded me. But I couldn’t quite figure out why anyone would pay me to walk around outside in the woods. Besides, by this time I lived in Las Vegas, and “the woods” is not in the vocabulary of them desert-types. My indoor option seemed best: become a math teacher. I loved numbers. We worked well together. I especially liked the fact that 2+2 is always 4. People are fickle; numbers are not.
But in August, 1975 (at 4:00 in the afternoon on a Friday), just prior to my senior year of High School, God redirected me. While at a camp in California, God made His will very plain to me: I needed to redirect my indoor (and outdoor!) activities toward full-time Christian ministry. Case closed. Decision made. I immediately removed calculus and physics from my class list.
I followed a friend (who became my first roommate) to a Bible college in Oregon, which was so gloriously wonderful in so many ways. Those folks knew the meaning of “woods.” They do outdoor real good.
And then there was this girl from Portland… A few years after boy-met-girl, this boy asked that girl for her hand in marriage. By that point, I was a full-time youth pastor in Portland, and she, a public high school speech and debate teacher an hour-and-a-half south.

Training for Ministry
Have you ever had a hunch you were rather sure would come to pass? I had a hunch that when God called me into full-time ministry that I would end up being a missionary. I was certainly not opposed to the idea, but I did hope it was in a place where there were “woods.” Nope. The Lord made that clear. Being a youth pastor? Nope. However, the church I served in NE Portland as a youth pastor graciously allowed me to put my hands to all kinds of ministry…including preaching. Ah. I found my love and passion in ministry.
In the mid-1980s my dear wife and I relocated to the Dallas-Ft. Worth metroplex where we both finished our grad school work. I chose Dallas Seminary because of their emphasis on the original biblical languages, and their training of men in expository preaching. The four years it took me to earn a Master of Theology degree was well worth the investment. And while the ink was still drying as my new diploma hung on the wall, we had a little boy for me to come home to—and I started learning a whole new language.

Settling into Ministry
With all our moving around as I grew up, I am quite sure my parents heard the ubiquitous ‘are-we-there-yet?’ pass my lips many times. In the late 1980s, after searching diligently for where God would place us after seminary, we found ourselves in a bedroom community of Sacramento, CA. I was rather sure that that ubiquitous question was answered by the Lord. Accepting the challenge, the difficulty, the long hours, more than one job…we were church planters.
With joy, sorrow, various highs and assorted lows—and another kiddo—we labored faithfully and successfully for three years starting a new church. Then the demands of extended family turned our heads north in search of a ministry opportunity close to Portland. And here we are. Still. For 25+ years I have served sometimes as the senior pastor, mostly as the solo pastor of Emmanuel Community Church in Happy Valley, in the SE quadrant of metro-Portland.
People and their stories fill my mind and my calendars. Births and deaths, victories and tragedies. I keep learning from those people that fill my days, and I strive to become a better man for it. I am most deeply grateful for the privilege to read, study, pray, and think in preparation to preach the eternal Word of God. Sermons and lectures and devotionals in the thousands have passed between my teeth. It is my joy and delight to serve my glorious Savior in this way. I trust that this website will establish and encourage, challenge and strengthen your faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

– Rob Martini, Aug 2017