Sunday, November 17, 2024

One of My Dads in the Ministry

 The first time I met Brother David was at Land Mart, a gas station near my home.  After hearing my name, he introduced himself.  He was very short and reminded me of the cartoon character because he talked like Elmer Fudd.  His Rs were W’s like “wascally wabbit.”

Approaching me he said, “My name is David Meyers, and I am finally meeting my church member who never comes to church.”

His gentle smile and warm handshake made the comment neither threatening nor demeaning.  Actually, I felt he had great compassion for a wandering sheep.  I was not a lost sheep but a black sheep dating a female sheep and going to her church.  He reminded me that I had an obligation to my church.

Brother David was my home church’s first full time pastor.  David accepted the call and lived in the church basement until the church built a Pastorium.  I have often thought about his faith to come to a church on the promise of building a house.  That influenced me.

David’s wife, Janice, played the piano.  They had two sons and a daughter.  They became part of our rural community, which is difficult for many men and women called into a new church field in rural areas.  Rural communities can be clannish and unreceptive of outsiders, but the Meyers were like home folk.

They were workers.  If someone had a pea patch, the Meyer family would pick the peas, unlike some other preacher families who wanted them home delivered, in a pot with bacon, and with a pone of cornbread.  If someone slaughtered an animal, they helped.

One time Mr. Ross, a church member, donated a calf to the church to slaughter and have a big cookout with steaks, hamburger, and camp town stew.  I, along with some men of the church, gathered at Mr. Ross’ barn to slay the fatted calf.  Brother David was having a difficult time with the dastardly deed of slaying the calf with a .38 caliber pistol.  He said that it was inhumane making the poor little calf suffer.  Mr. Ross, a man well into his eighties, tried to convince the preacher that he had used the pistol on many occasions to slaughter calves. 

Brother David was relentless in his argument.  He brought a 30.06 caliber rifle to do the trick.  Mr. Ross tried to tell Brother David that he did not want to blow off the calf’s head; he just wanted to kill it.  Brother David pleaded in the fashion of Perry Mason or Ben Matlock and won the right to slay the fatted calf in a humane manner with the 30.06.  On the day of the feast, the steaks were fine, the hamburgers were great, the camp town stew was delicious, and Brother David was happy.

David was a great pastor.  When I married that female sheep, he attended the wedding.  He convinced her, who decided she had enough church at age eighteen, that she needed to be in church and later convinced her to serve the Lord in the community in which she lived.  By the way, he pastored that church.  He was our pastor when Andy was born.  He explained to me the “baby blues” after my brought Andy home and I could not figure out why she cried for no reason. 

David was not a dynamic preacher, but he built such a close relationship with his congregation that we loved to hear him preach.  Brother David lived his sermons.  He taught us that Christians could have fun.  David and Janice hosted some of the greatest church parties for young adults.  David and Janice started a choir.  The choir volunteered to buy Inspiration Song Book No. 9.  The church grew and grew until it was packed, and we had to build a new sanctuary.

I rededicated my life to the Lord during a revival while he was pastor.  I grew spiritually under his leadership.  He asked me to be an R.A. leader, later a Sunday school teacher, and finally the building coordinator for the new sanctuary.  Shortly after completion of the new building, Brother David accepted the call of another church.  The whole church was heartbroken.

Many years later, I saw Brother David was at retreat at Shocco Springs in Talladega, Alabama.  I was a pastor by that time.  Brother David embraced me and told me how proud he was of me.  He said, “I was thrilled to hear you surrendered to preach.  As one of your dads in the ministry, I have only one piece of advice for you.  When people push you for a decision, tell them you will pray about the situation and then you wait for the Lord to solve it for you.  The biggest mistake preachers make is running ahead of God.  God will solve most problems if you wait on Him.”  That was the last time I saw him. and I still follow that jewel of advice.

A short time later I heard that Brother David died of a heart attack at a senior adult fellowship, I realized that I lost a dad in the ministry.  Feeling nauseated, he had excused himself to go to the restroom.  When he did not return, they found him in the restroom door.  He was fifty-five years old.

Let the elders that rule well be counted worthy of double honour, especially they who labour in the word and doctrine.  For the scripture saith, Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn. And, The labourer is worthy of his reward (I Timothy 5:17-18 KJV).


Tell your preacher and his family how much you appreciate them.

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