“Selma, Alabama? You can’t go there. They kill black people there!”

That was the sincerely concerned response of a family member upon learning that I had agreed to do a pastoral internship in the city known as “The Queen of the Black Belt,” due to its tremendously fertile soil and rich history, and also the place where the American Civil Rights Movement upended some of the most abusive laws and views in United States history.

A significant combatant in the fight for equality was the Reformed Presbyterian Church. Her roots in Selma are as deep as the soil on which she stands, and some of the most famous names in the fight for equality met in both the church and the manse, setting the wheels in motion, by the grace of God.

So, in 2020, how did I end up here, nearly a thousand miles from everyone and everything I have ever known?

Early in my seminary career at the Reformed Presbyterian Theological Seminary, President (now emeritus) Jerry O’Neill approached me with the idea of serving this congregation. I was more than a bit reluctant, since I was just getting my feet wet in the RPCNA, and I shelved the idea. Dr. O’Neill was persistent, and eventually I agreed to pay a visit to the Selma congregation to preach and meet the folks. One visit eventually stretched into three, and I found myself very much liking the people and the city. Still, I found myself reluctant to act, and not because of the church or the people, but because of me and my small faith.

All my visits to various churches to do pulpit supply were well received, and I had many people telling me I should pastor somewhere that the outward call was crystal clear. So what about the inner call? That sense men get deep in the soul that compels them forward to ministry? I had known for some time that I must serve God’s flock. That was never in doubt. The question I needed to answer was the role of ministry I needed to play. So, when my home church, Providence (Pittsburgh, Pa.) RPC, called me to serve as a ruling elder, I realized this was an opportunity to search my heart and discern if God was calling me to ministry.

It took less than a month for my heart and mind to agree that there was nothing I wanted more than to serve full-time in ministry. It helped immensely that I was serving alongside some of the most godly, experienced men I have ever known and in a congregation that made my job easy. As I cemented my thoughts, God began to close doors in my life. Jobs, relationships, everything began to go away. After more prayer, the realization dawned on me that I could no longer ignore the path God was paving before me, a path that led directly to 625 Jeff Davis Avenue, the RP Church of Selma.

That is when things really got interesting.

I stayed with my job far longer than I should have, only giving myself a couple of days to pack my trailer for shipment to my new home. I underestimated how much stuff one can collect after living in the same house for nearly 25 years! Finally getting everything packed a day late, I called the moving company to have them pick up the trailer. My best friend (who had volunteered to help me make the drive down) and I packed my compact car unbelievingly full of the things I would need immediately. In this stuffed sausage of a car, we began the 13-hour drive.

A couple days after my arrival, with my trailer nowhere in sight, I contacted the moving company and found out it had accidently been marked as empty and had been parked on their lot the day I left. They promised to send it immediately, but another problem arose; I needed to travel to Indiana for presbytery, and the trailer would have arrived the day I left. Having no place where it could be truly out of the way, I had them schedule it for the day we returned. All this time, I was stuck in the same pair of work boots I had worn to load the truck, and my socks could literally stand up on their own! A surprise blessing awaited me in Indiana—a big and tall men’s store near the church. During a break, I was able to get socks, shoes, pants, etc., and I felt like a new man. This was very beneficial when the time came to introduce myself to the assembled court.

Meeting the Great Lakes-Gulf Presbytery was a delight, and I already knew some of the brothers from our time as seminary classmates. The host church, Elkhart, Ind., RPC, showed us tremendous hospitality, and my fellow Selma elders and I were treated like old friends. I was officially brought under care of presbytery and, just a few months later, was certified to preach. If the Lord is willing, I hope to pass the rest of my exams toward ordination at the March meeting of presbytery.

My trailer arrived the day after we returned, and while most everything was fine, all my favorite houseplants had died from exposure. This was a sore blow, as I had had several of them over 20 years, and all of them had special meaning, which is why I had attempted to bring them. A good friend teasingly called me Jonah for the combination of how long it took me to make this move and how upset I was about the plants, and I understood what he meant. Still, I’m very much a homebody, I was exhausted, and I had already adopted out my pets; so losing my plants was deflating. I had to seek God earnestly over that, to repent of being so attached to things, but also to ask for strength to move forward.

The Selma congregation has been wonderful to me. A couple of the elders took me out regularly to help me get my bearings geographically and to get me involved socially, meeting a number of local pastors, business owners, and folks who have lived a lifetime under the hot Selma sun. (Seriously, it’s unlike any sunlight I have ever experienced.)

My work was progressing quickly, and within weeks I was involved in local service ministries and getting around. Then the wall came down when the COVID lockdowns began. This put a real cramp in getting out because there is a great deal of fear concerning the virus, so many people are simply staying in their homes and not taking visitors. Being a small congregation revealed an unexpected blessing in this matter, because we never had to stop meeting together and are able to comfortably distance ourselves. We all have chosen to wear masks, and so far have not experienced any positive COVID diagnoses.

The current situation has certainly given me plenty of time to study! Thankfully, I also enjoy fishing and usually go alone anyway. The Alabama River, which runs right through downtown, boasts several world-record catches and strong populations of huge fish. The amount of tourism here is astonishing, with daily visits by people from out of town, out of state, and even from other countries. One of the biggest concerns for the recently elected new mayor and city council is how to capitalize on that tourism, getting visitors to stick around for a while. There is also a high percentage of workers who commute into the city, leaving when the workday is done.

I have some ideas I’m hoping to run past the mayor and council members as they get settled into office. Selma was a bustling city when there was a military base here. But its closure devastated the economy, and we have yet to recover. Would you pray for us about that?

We have a church on almost every block here, and there are a couple groups of pastors of different denominations who meet weekly for fellowship and prayer. I have been permitted to join them, and the concern they collectively display for the church and the city is encouraging. There is a great effort to distribute food to the locals in need, of whom there are plenty. As I write this, we are just a month past Hurricane Zeta, which hit us hard, increasing the need for aid. Parts of the area didn’t regain electricity for three weeks, and several lifetime residents have told me they have never seen the city take so much storm damage. Praise God, there were no reports of fatalities, but people will be repairing their homes and businesses for some time to come. Thankfully, although we lost power for a week, God spared us from serious damage, with only one cracked window on the church and a number of shingles torn from the garage and manse. It could certainly have been much worse.

Some of the churches in this area date back to the 1800s, including ours. The church began as a school where black children could go to receive an education by the first black American to be ordained an RP minister, Pastor Lewis Johnston, and was originally named Geneva Academy but changed to Knox after the Reformer John Knox. The church was organized in 1875. Several current members fought in the Civil Rights Movement, and it is quite humbling to serve them, knowing that these are the actual warriors to whom I owe many of my rights as a black American.

I hope you will visit us someday. The region is a fascinating one with an intricate history, far more than I can share in a single article. Beautiful trees, a flowing river, rich soil, and a church that has worshiped in the Reformed Protestant tradition consistently for over 140 years, combine to make this place unique.

Mark Brown is a ruling elder in the Selma, Ala., RPC. He graduated from the Reformed Presbyterian Theological Seminary in 2015 with an MDiv and is a member of the Association of Certified Biblical Counselors.