Tag: Impact

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The Impact of a Barnabas

Barnabas. The one who believed and introduces the apostle Paul to the world. Without Barnabas the apostle may have never been given a chance. Paul is a terrorist, extremist, a known threat to every Christian. In an instant he is transformed by the power of God on a Damascus Road. Unfortunately, few were there to see and experience his conversion. This brought about much uncertainty, fear, and many saw it as a ploy to antagonize more Christians. Barnabas, who isn’t one of the 12 apostles and is someone we know very little about, will believe in Paul. Barnabas does not realize it in the moment but his act will be the catalyst behind the man who will write over half of the New Testament and spread the gospel to much of the known world. I would suggest that many leaders have been impacted by “Barnabas’” those who are overlooked and forgotten, but have been critical in shaping the character and influencing many successful leaders.

My Barnabas was Tom O’Daniel. He and his wife had been successful missionaries to Kenya. At the time I met him, he was the vice-president of Indiana Bible College. After leaving Indiana Bible College he would go on to be an impactful part of Great Lakes College in Auburn Hills, Michigan and Urshan Graduate School in St. Louis, Missouri.

Above all your talent, skills, education, and creativity one of the most critical elements to success is having someone who believes in you. This is what Tom did for a 27-year-old man. I’m not sure I will ever fully grasp why, but for some reason he saw something in me and decided to invest in me. He brought me on as a college dorm supervisor. He empowered me, gave me opportunities, and continually spoke words of encouragement to me. Many days he would invite me into his office, share stories, and pour his wisdom into me. I quickly realized that Tom O’Daniel was incredibly brilliant, one of the most wise and intelligent men I have ever met.

Over time he slowly began to release my talents. Though computers were relatively new, and something I had little experience with, he convinced me I had the skills not only to learn basic computing, but suggested with training, I could build an academic data base for the college. Surprising even myself, it was a highly successful endeavor and was used for over 20 years. About a year after coming on board an instructor became ill and he asked me to fill in. While educated, I felt terribly inadequate to teach, having knowledge but not experience. He pushed me, and because he did, teaching became an interictal part of my ministry. By the time I walked away from the college I was teaching five courses and had a gained a profound appreciation of God’s Word. It never happens if Tom O’Daniel is not in my life.

Beyond pressing me to learn the technical skills and pushing me to go into instruction, Tom saw a creative side in me. It was something I knew I had inside of me but wasn’t sure how the gift would ever be released. Tom began sending Mary and I to conferences and meetings to promote the college. He released me to do creative give aways, promotions, and allowed my gift to flourish. At national conferences we brought high end sports cars, climbing walls, and print and video projects that were cutting edge at the time. People would literally stop us and ask, “what’s it going to be this year Hudson?” He allowed me to reimagine the footprint of classrooms, build a volleyball pit, and asked me to build the colleges first print catalog. Thanks to Tom O’Daniel I was living beyond what I thought was possible.

Tom is a man of incredible integrity. I witnessed how he would defend the underdog, stand up for what was right, and take the high road when it often meant it would impact how people viewed him. I will never forget one of our last conversations as he was vacating his role as vice-president. I had gone through a very rough three-hour meeting and the next day as I was tentatively making my way on campus, I was met by Tom and in a stern voice he says, “Hudson, in my office, now.” Fear instantly gripped me, thinking, here we go again. He shut the door of his office, turned with tears in his eyes, and said, “I’m sorry for what you had to go through.” I was stunned.

Tom’s life has not been easy. Mary and I will never forget the fateful morning we found out that his son J.J. O’Daniel had lost his life in a horrific car accident. We watched in amazement as he and his wife bravely walked through their sons shocking death with such faith, integrity, and humility. He taught, not in the classroom, but by his life example in good times and bad.

Nearly 20 years removed from my time with Tom, the world needs to know about my Barnabas. Without him Jon and Mary Hudson would not have impacted over three thousand ministry students in our 15 years at Indiana Bible College. Without Tom there would have been no startup church in Fishers, Indiana called Life Connections. We would not have impacted thousands of lives in central Indiana. His releasing of my creativity, building of our confidence, and giving us incredible opportunities to grow, were all critical to its success. His belief in us set in motion our future and the impact we have had on our world.

Truth be told, I am not one, but one of many, whose life has been impacted by Tom O’Daniel. There are pastors in churches, missionaries in foreign fields, and musicians that fill churches because of the Barnabas, Tom O’Daniel. Tom, thank you for believing in Mary and I and countless others. Your impact will not be fully known and exposed until we all get to heaven.

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A Visionary Life Changer

He was a visionary beyond his years. A leader, not a follower. The impression he made on my life at a young age would last a lifetime and little did he know, nor I, that God was using him to groom me to be a pastor some thirty years later. He lived in what I would call the “golden age” of the organization he was a part of. He lived in a time when diversity of belief was embraced, not ostracized. He lived before the “Joseph Smith books” of the organization he was a part of had been written. It was 1976, I was twelve, when my parents left the small church they had attended for years to get me to his church, Calvary Tabernacle. My life would never be the same.

In a moment I went from a church of 50 and a youth group of two or three to a church of nearly a thousand and a youth group of a hundred. More importantly, we went from small vision to extra-large vision. We went from, what I felt was boring church, to nearly every service being like a major spirit filled event. He had all-night concerts with groups from all kinds of organizations and conferences with the best of contemporary speakers of the day from diverse associations. He had the best of ministry, powerful worship services, creative children and youth ministries, a radio broadcast, and two traveling and recording groups: the Calvary Four and the Calvary Brass. He continually brought in young and creative speakers. Just a few I remember were a 21-year-old fiery evangelist named Anthony Mangun, a crazy preacher and magician named Jeff Arnold, and a dynamic young minister by the name of Phil Munsey. He also brought in the best of his contemporaries. Hearing and seeing these men would be a part of what would lead me to my call to preach the gospel.

This visionary pastor that forever changed my life and shaped how I would pastor was N.A. Urshan. He lived in an era when most every organization had lots of rules, yet he seemed to follow his own path, and thankfully, in his time it was tolerated. I’m not sure he would have survived in the culture of his organization today. He was a revolutionary leader, not a follower. He was firm yet gentle, compassionate, kind, and full of grace. It sounds funny now, but at the time, the changes my parents made in our life and home once they started attending his church seemed radical. I went from not being able to go bowling to my youth group going bowling. I had a love for basketball, so when I found out the Butler boys were in the band and choir and still got to play basketball on their high school teams, I was sold. Beyond that, in a time when TV was taboo for many churches, at his church it was allowed. I will never forget when my family got our first TV. We had arrived! My mom once approached him over one of the “issues of the day,” make up and cut hair in his youth choir. His response left an indelible mark on my heart. He basically told her, I’d rather have people in my choir with some struggles than not in church, incredible wisdom. He was a man who was passionate about the Word, the name of Jesus, and the power of God. He was connected to his city, his times, and was respected by businessmen and civic leaders. In fact, in some circles it was the belief that if you wanted to be mayor in Indianapolis, you needed to go through Pastor Urshan.

One of the most profound moments with him in my life was when I was 15. I had not been spirit-filled but desperately wanted to play my trumpet in the band at the church. My parents arranged a meeting with him and in the meeting, he offered me a deal. He said, you pray in the altar after services, and I will let you play your trumpet. I thought about it for a moment, looked at my parents, and then him, and said, “no deal.” He looked bewildered and shocked and the look on my parents was one of horror. On the way home I was made aware that I turned down an incredible gesture from one of the most powerful men in Christianity, that I had made a terrible mistake, and I think they may have grounded me for the rest of my life. Many years later, after he had moved on to the role of superintendent of a Pentecostal movement, I ran into him while getting on a flight. I didn’t realize he was on the flight but as I was passing through first class to get to my seat a hand reached up to me, it was Pastor Urshan and he said, “excuse me son, aren’t you the young man that turned down my offer to play your trumpet in my band?” I sheepishly said, “yes sir,” I was the man and then briefly told him I was in seminary and was preparing to be a pastor. He smiled and said, “very good,” and I moved on to my seat. It would be my last encounter with him and even in that moment I didn’t realize how much he had impacted how I would pastor.

Today as I write it’s thirty years later. I’ve been in full-time ministry for nearly 35 years, and just recently closed out my pastorate. Pastor Urshan left this life nearly 20 years ago, just a couple years after we started Life Connections. Yet, ask me who I most pastored and ministered like, and I would tell you, N.A. Urshan. While I loved the ministries of men like Anthony Mangun and James Kilgore, it was N.A Urshan’s ministry that I patterned mine after. He was cutting edge, not afraid to go against the grain of tradition, and he treated people with dignity and respect.  He taught me to love the Word and how to present the Gospel with grace and class. Though you are in your heavenly home, I honor you today and thank you for teaching me as a young man to love the word, to lead, not follow, to be my own person, and to have a unique ministry, not a copycat.

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Impacted…By a Man in a Feed Sack

He was one of my influencers. His effect on my life didn’t come from meeting him, only by my perception of him from afar. In fact, I never met him, never shook his hand, or had an opportunity to talk to him. Regardless, I would say he was one of the most impactful people in my ministry. One of my hopes had always been to get an opportunity to meet him, but unfortunately, he passed several years ago, and I never got that chance. I only heard him preach a handful of messages, but each time there was a gentle, kind, and humble spirit that resonated from him. The intersecting moment came for me at a young minister’s conference I was attending in Louisiana. As the conference unfolded, some messages stirred my heart, others inspired my spirit, but it was the message by James Kilgore titled “Glory Robes or Sackcloth” that would change my life. As a young man I thought pastor Kilgore was old, but at the time he was probably only in his mid 50’s. He was somewhat short, had silvery white hair, and spoke with a classic southern drawl. What grabbed my attention this particular evening, along with 3000 others, was two things. First, as he stood to speak, he came with such humility as he made his way to the podium. He almost appeared to be uncomfortable as he stood before the crowd, and it was evident that he was burdened by what God was asking him to share. The second thing that overwhelmed me was the moment in his message when he put on a long fuchsia robe. Without much fanfare he began to speak about how he was afraid many ministers were living and ministering for glory robes. Today we would call it building our brand. Wearing the right clothing and shoes, running in the right circle of friends, projecting the correct social media impressions, preaching the latest trendy ideas. He wasn’t angry, no arrogance or condescending attitude, he was broken. When it would have been easier to preach something popular, he chose to preach the burden of his heart. He spoke of how authentic ministry must be about building Jesus’ kingdom, not ours. Forever I will remember him repeating the phrase, “oh, how we love to wear the glory robes,” but then he would follow up with, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” What happened about halfway through his message is what has forever been branded on my heart. He stopped and disrobed from the beautiful fuchsia robe, put on a feed sack, and for the remainder of the message, he preached in that simple sack. He wept and cried as he talked about how he and his wife had sacrificed so they could share the gospel. He shared how early in their ministry they often lived on very little. He told how the two of them would fast. He would fast every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and his wife would say,”well, if you’re going too fast, I am too. He spoke about going to small churches who couldn’t pay them and how sometimes they would have little or no food. He spoke of starting a church from basically nothing, and helping people who he knew would never be able to repay their generosity. He cried as he talked about those who were broken and they had helped, only to be betrayed once success came their way. He said, in the end it was worth it all that some might know Christ. At some point it was too much for me. I didn’t need the end of the message, I crumbled to my knees. That night I wept for over an hour, when I rose from the ground, I was empty, there were no more tears to be cried. I made a commitment, I wanted to have a ministry like James Kilgore. Sometimes the emotion of the moment wears off and you go back to life, moved but not changed. This would not be the case after this message. I returned to the college in Jackson Mississippi where I was working. Every night for a week I would go to my office and listen to the message. I still would weep, overwhelmed with conviction. During the week I would spend evenings praying for hours, pleading, and promising God I would minister as a man in sackcloth if he would use me. God granted that request, and for 35 years Mary and I have had the privilege of living out James Kilgore’s message. We’ve lived simply. We avoided drawing attention to ourselves; never seeking the limelight. We’ve lived to put others and the kingdom ahead of ourselves. We’ve prayed and fasted unceasingly, only longing to see a sovereign move of God. We’ve cried and wept enough tears to fill pools. We built a church and served the people; rich, poor, educated, uneducated, and every culture. We cared for those who had, and those who didn’t, it didn’t matter. We loved and smiled when we were hurt, forgotten, and abandoned, and we’ve given when we didn’t have enough for ourselves. When we walked away from pastoring, we knew it would come with great loss, but also knew that the Kingdom had to be above our ministry and our future. Many were shocked when they heard the news, but know this about Mary and I. A long time ago we heard a message and decided we would be ministers in sackcloth. We made a commitment that above all, it was souls that would be important, and His Kingdom would be our priority. As I mentioned, James Kilgore never met or spoke to me, but from a distance his humble life forever changed mine. Maybe when we get to heaven, we’ll get to meet him and tell him the story, but for now I share it with you. Why? Because it’s important to realize you are impacting someone by the life you live. You may never have a conversation with them or share a dinner, but you’re being an influencer. Understand the life you are living, the story you are writing, what you are doing, may be impacting someone in a far greater way than you could ever imagine. James Kilgore, thank you for your influence from a distance, I am forever indebted.

Pastor Kilgore’s Message, Humility: Glory Robes or Sackcloth


* This blog is a part of a series called the Tribute Series, My Influencers.

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Thomas L. Craft: Rest in Peace

Hero of the faith. Humble Servant of God. Visionary Leader. An Investor in Young Men.  A Passion for Lost Souls. The list could go on and on. No one stands alone but on the shoulders of others, and I stand on the impact of T.L. Craft. He is why I was allowed to spend 15 years at Indiana Bible College and 20 years as Pastor of Life Connections. He believed in me, gave me a chance, and invested in me, as he has done for so many. I loved the days when I was in the office, and he would call and tell me to meet him at the golf course. This is where he poured so much wisdom into me as a young man. I don’t know if it was his way of emptying out the stress of pastoring or that he sensed that God had a specific plan for my life that prompted the calls. Regardless, I’m grateful for those days that we chased the little white ball together, but more thankful that I listened to his wisdom and insight on those hot Mississippi days. As an emerging minister, having an elder that poured into my life made such a difference in my life and eventually impacted how I would pastor. He once told me, “Jon, you can sheer a sheep a 100 times but you can only skin them once.” I never forgot that piece of advice. It saved me many times from making “in the moment mistakes,” and potential repercussions of acting in frustration. Prayer was always a priority at his church, something that left an indelible mark on me, and I will never forget experiencing the most sovereign move of God I have ever seen in one of his Sunday services. I have talked about that service my entire ministry and longed to experience something similar to it again my whole life. So saddened by his passing but thankful for getting to be a part of his incredible life. Rest in peace Pastor and enjoy the place you preached about so often.


* This blog is a part of a series called the Tribute Series, My Influencers.

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Intentionally Impactive

Life’s vision involves three-segments. First, touch God every day. It may change daily, but includes Bible reading, prayer, worship, and devotion. Another segment of our vision is being involved in something that outlives you. A personal ministry, project, or a financial foundation; anything that will leave an imprint on the next generation. A final segment involves intentionally impacting someone’s life every day. That doesn’t mean grabbing a bull horn or bashing them with the Bible. It means being purposeful about making a positive impact on someone daily. Lately the Spirit has been prompting me to be more active in this area. So, I’ve been intentional. A cashier caught my attention with his amazing spirit and attitude, so I gave him a compliment. He lit up like the fourth of July, you would have thought I had given him a hundred-dollar bill. Making a run to the grocery, a group of elementary kids walking to a local park for end of the year festivities, spotted our little red car. They started giving us the “18-wheeler blow the horn motion.”  We gave them a beep, beep, smiled, waved and instantly the entire group exploded into laughter and cheers as we drove off. Finally, as we were walking through a park, I noticed a couple meandering slowly up ahead of us. Their spirit seemed heavy, so as we passed, I gave them a smile, “a good morning,” and instantly their countenance changed. The elderly lady said, “yes, it is” and before I knew it, I blurted out the first stanza of Psalm 118:24, “this is the day,” she responded with, “that the Lord has made, and I said, “I will rejoice,” and she completed it with, “and be glad in it.” We left them laughing and with a memory for the day. My point? Impacting others is simple, easy, and cost nothing. Start being intentional about impacting a world that is hopeless, hurting, and broken. Let your positive actions be the conversation at their dinner table.