Old Fashion Graveyard Cleaning

Down the hill, facing the East is a pink granite headstone in West Chilton County. 

The headstone is unique among the gray granite headstones in the Union Springs Baptist Church Cemetery.  The name etched in the pink granite is the only headstone with that name.

I served on the Cemetery Committee for many years.  One of the things the committee did was remodeled the cemetery.  Don’t laugh, it was in terrible shape.  Families had staked out their territories.  Bricks, bushes, wrought iron fences, galvanized pipes with chains, and huge flowerpots marked the boundaries.  Some family plots had pebbles, some white, other colored. There were rose bushes, daffodils, sweet gum trees, and junipers.

Cleaning the cemetery was an annual event, usually before the Easter weekend.  Men and women arrived with rakes, hoes, shovels, wheelbarrows, lawn mowers, weed eaters, and tractors.  With the eagerness of worker honeybees, everyone descended on the cemetery to make the resting place of the dead a thing of beauty for the living.  I remember moments when I would see people weeping over a grave as they cleaned around it.  Most people cleaning the cemetery had loved ones and friends buried there.

Years before the remodeling, the only tool needed was a yard broom made from dogwood saplings.  The cemetery, as most yards did not have grass, so most people sweep the bare ground with the yard broom.  A bare graveyard with thousands of sweet gums balls makes for hard work.  Sweet gum balls in grass, in white pebbles, and all the stuff mentioned above makes it harder.

Even though my dad was not a Christian, he always helped with cleaning the cemetery.  In fact, we did not have to beg him to come to church on Easter.  I wish more pastors and believers would be more sensitive to families that have a dad or others who only attend church at Easter and Christmas.  For a family pleading with tears for a husband and dad to attend church only to have that loved one ridiculed when attending is heart breaking.  I know that I was so happy when daddy went to worship with us at Easter and Christmas.

Years before there was a Cemetery Committee and remodeling, on a Saturday we were cleaning the cemetery.  I have to believe that this catalytic event initiated both.  Here is what happened.  There was discussion on the difficulty of the annual cleaning.  All the stuff in the cemetery had deteriorated with time.  Families did not want their sacred territories disturbed, so anyone who violated this unwritten rule was severely reprimanded.  As a point of interest, most of these sacred territories belonged to folks who never attended the church. You might say they had been grandfathered into ownership.  Their granddaddies planted those trees and placed all the other stuff.  Their descendants continued this possess until this incredible moment in time.

Holy indignation built in the cemetery among those who were entrusted with cleaning in preparation of the Holy Week.  Holy Sacraments of the cemetery were about to face an episode likened to Jesus cleaning the Temple.

A sweet gum tree towered above a grave on a bare bank.  Erosion and sweet gum balls presented a growing problem.  Some men of the church huddled in deliberation to conjure a remedy.  The verdict was the tree needed to go but gripped with fear of retaliation from the Sacred Society of Cemetery Relics and Botanical Substance, no one volunteered.

Daddy, who listened at a distance because he was not a member of the church, asked, “Do you want the tree cut down?”

They replied that they did but feared the repercussions.

Daddy looked at me and said, “Go get the chainsaw.”  I went home to get the McCullough daddy used when he logged for a living.  Daddy reminded me of Jerry Clower’s cousin Marcel Ledbetter, who used a McCullough to get a soft drink, as he fired up the chain saw and felled the towering sweet gum.

Yeah, the family that said they planted the tree was upset.  We did not have to worry about them quitting church because they never came anyway.  Eventually, all the sacred relics and botanical substance were gone as were those who wrestled over the decision and those who retaliated.  Manicured and groomed, the cemetery looks nice today.

I often shed a tear when I visit that pink granite tombstone with the name Hopper on it.  I snigger when I stand at the foot of daddy’s grave.  It is just a few feet from where he created the stir in the cemetery and among those from both sides of the issue.

The old song reminds us that when the Lord returns, the cemetery will be a mess with graves bursting open.

Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:

 And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto him, Lord, come and see.  Jesus wept. (John 11:25, 34-35 KJV)

    

Multifaced Ministry

 A few years ago, just moments away from conducting a funeral, I talked with Mel one of the funeral home directors at Martin Funeral home in Clanton.  I have known Mel for a long time.  His dad is the probate judge up home.  Mel, his dad, and uncles run the funeral home in Clanton.  They are very professional, highly respected, and deeply compassionate.

Mel and I go way back to 1982 when I was counselor for the Chilton Baptist Associational Youth Camp at Cook Springs.  The camp is between Birmingham and Pell City.  I had a group of fourth grade boys, Mel being one of them.  I remember that week as if it were last week.  Mel had a deformed lip.  At that time, he was a little shy, a little self-conscious, and somewhat, but not completely, withdrawn because of it.

Mel has transformed into an outgoing young man. Mel and his family do a wonderful job with funerals.

Mel, Rex Kent, the pastor, and I spent a moment reminiscing as members of the Oaks family spent time with people paying last respects to AC.  When I return to Chilton County for funerals, Mel and his uncles say to me, “This must be a big funeral when they have to call the ‘Big Gun’ in to perform the ceremony.”  Friends up home are proud of me, I think.  They always say, “I knew you would be a big preacher someday.”

Rex listened as Mel and I reminisced about camp, funerals, and being from Chilton County.  Mel told the story of funeral he did for a certain family in the Jemison area.  In fact, the family for which I reserve the right of confidentially was one I visited while pastoring my first church.  They were members of the community.

I will never forget my first visit.  I found an elderly woman in a wheelchair in one of the filthiest houses I have ever called on while visiting for the church.  When I visit, most hosts will ask me to forgive them for not having a clean house.  If they only knew how some houses look and smell, they would think their homes were fine.  All they need is to go on church visitation to realize the how bad things can get.

The house was at the end of an old red dirt road.  A flock of geese greeted me, and I had to dodge goose droppings along the way.  The house was surrounded with junk and trash.  A short man in a pair of worn and dirty overalls and sporting an old fedora greeted me.  He introduced himself and directed me inside.

As I entered the house, it reeked of foul odors.  The little man had a peculiar smell, but nothing like what I was about to experience.  In the house was a blend of aromas from gangrene, cat mess, human waste, dog feces, bird excrement, goose droppings, and a blend of urine.  Most of this was evident because it covered the 1960’s green shag carpet. Every piece of furniture had an oil film on it and the smell of Prince Albert tobacco was minute compared to the other aromas.

Now, I have a strong constitution as the old timers say, but as I tried to witness blowflies buzzed, the cats rubbed my leg, the dog panted in the heat, the birds fluttered in their cages, the summer heat sweltered, the geese squawked, and my stomach churned.  The longer I sat there, the more I felt the need to vomit.  I had to excuse myself by saying I needed something from my car and went outside to catch a breath of fresh air and try to keep my dinner down.

Going back outside was a trip of adventure also.  This trek was solo, no little man to hold back the geese.  Dogs don’t bother me, but geese do.  It is a phobia from childhood.  As I tried to get fresh air, the geese honked and squawked as they rushed toward me.  All I will admit is they will not do it again, I guarantee that.

I frequented the home while pastor in the community and it never got any better.  The family did not care or was so accustomed to the filth that it did not affect them.

Mel said that when the woman died, the funeral was unbelievable.  He said that the woman was filthy, the funeral procession hilarious, and funeral ceremony odd.

It seems that the only family for the funeral arrived in a worn out and broken-down motor home like that of Cousin Eddie in the Chevy Chase movie National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.  The family rode in it behind the hearse in the procession.  A large Confederate Flag waved in the wind on the rear of the motor home.

Since they had a preacher to conduct the funeral, they decided that they would kill two birds with one stone, no pun intended, and have a wedding.  That’s right.  They asked the preacher while they had all the family, the church, the license, and him to conduct a wedding.  They left the church in a decorated motor home.  I am not making this up.  There is no way to make up a story like this.

You have to remember; two pastors and a funeral home director discussed this just moments before praying with a family and conducting a funeral.

Ministry is multifaceted.  For most pastors, weddings and funerals are the most stressful. I can only imagine doing them together.

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me (Matthew 25:34-36 KJV).

I wish there was a line that said, I was filthy, and ye visited me.

People Need the Lord

We have all heard the song People Need the Lord.  We sing it and it moves us, but does it move us to do something.  That something in particular is God’s call for our lives.  There is no greater reward than knowing that our calling/ministry is a God thing.  Sometimes we have to revisit our call and remember our surrender to follow Jesus.  We recall how lost in sin we were and the joy that comes from knowing that our sins are washed away.  Commit to memory that day and the burden you had for those around you will rekindle the passion to see lost people saved. 

“Capture the Passion” for lost people.  The world is doing as expected.  What about God’s people?  Today many churches are turning inward.  An article from Theodore O. Wedel, “Evangelism- the Mission of the Church to Those Outside Her Life,” The Ecumenical Review, October 1953, p. 24, explains some of our present day dilemma:

On a dangerous seacoast where shipwrecks often occur, there was once a crude little life saving station.  The building was just a hut, and there was only one boat but a few devoted members kept a constant watch over the sea, and with no thought for themselves, they went out day and night tirelessly searching for the lost.  Many lives were saved by this wonderful little life saving station, so it became famous.  So some of those who had been saved, and various others from the surrounding areas wanted to become associated with this station, and give of their time and their money and their effort for the support of its work.  New boats were bought, new life saving crews were trained, and the little life saving station grew. 

Some of the members of the life saving station were unhappy that the building was so crude and poorly equipped.  They felt a more comfortable place should be provided as the first refuge of those who were saved from the sea.  So they replaced the emergency cots and beds with better furniture in the enlarged building.  Now the life saving station became a popular gathering place for its members, and they decorated it, and they beautifully furnished it exquisitely because they used it as something of a club.  Few members were now interested in going to sea on life saving missions so they hired life boat crews to do the work.  The life saving motif still prevailed in the life saving club's decorations and there was a liturgical lifeboat in the room where the club held it's initiations, but professionalism had taken over and displaced the original purpose of lifesaving.

Now about this time a large ship was wrecked off the coast, and the hired crews brought in loads of cold, wet, half drowned people.  They were dirty and sick, and some of them had black skin and some of them had yellow skin and the beautiful new club was considerably messed up - so the property committee immediately had a shower house built outside the club where the victims of ship wrecks could be cleaned up before they came inside.  At the next meeting there was a split in the club membership.  You see most of the members wanted to stop the clubs life saving activity as being unpleasant and a hindrance to the normal social life of the club.  Some members insisted upon life saving as their primary purpose and they pointed out that they were still called the life saving station.  But they were finally voted down and told if they wanted to save the lives of various kinds of people who were shipwrecked in those waters, and dirty and wet, they could begin their own life saving station down the coast a little ways, which they did.  And as the years went by the new station experienced the same changes that had occurred in the old one.  It evolved into a club, and yet another life saving station was founded.  Well history continued to repeat itself, and if you visit that coast today, you will find a number of exclusive clubs along the shore which are very professional in nature.  Shipwrecks are still frequent in those waters, but most of the people drown.

People need the Lord.  Opportunities from God proliferate.  Churches stand at the portal of a great opportunity to share Christ.  Be yielded and ready for opportunities.

Black Snake Road

The Friendship Baptist Church is located on Friendship Road in Clanton, Alabama.  The road got its name after a couple of residents did not like living on Black Snake Road.  It is named black moccasin snakes which make the creek their home. 

One spring the bridge on Black Snake Road was out for repairs.  A great spiritual truth came to me during the bridge outage.  I heard vehicles stopping and turning around in the Friendship parking lot.  There were barricades at each end of the road which warned that the bridge was out. 

Local people that lived either side of the bridge knew that one could not pass the creek.  They knew that it was to stop travelers before they went too far and plunged into the creek.  Most travelers ignored the barricade and tried to continue anyway.  They did not realize the deadly plight if they were to enter the creek.  One police officer had to shoot his way back to his patrol car after he had investigated the new work of the bridge.  He said the moccasins were everywhere.  The barricades were to help travelers even though it did inconvenience them with a three-mile detour.

The Book of Amos has a story about a barricade.  Amos tries to warn the king and the kingdom about impending danger.  Like the travelers on Black Snake Road, they did not heed the warning.  He had a challenging preacher named Amaziah who did not agree with him.  Amaziah does not see the brevity of the kingdom due to immorality.  Amos sees destruction for those who ignore the warning.  People of the kingdom agreed with Amaziah because it was convenient religion preaching to itching ears.  There was no accountability. 

Amos was as believers are to day.  That is he was the reason things were bad.  He was a threat to the community going forward.  Amaziah saw Amos as a threat to the kingdom and the temple.  Amos had the message from God.  He compared the nation to a plumb line.  The nation was out of line with God.

The message is the same today.  Nations, communities, churches, organizations, and individuals that are not plumb with God face destruction.  Those who want to seek the gods of the world openly disdain and defy God’s people.  Living and preaching the Word of God threaten the “status quo.”

The Amos 7:10-11 tells us that people believe worldly gossip more than the gospel. Gossip feeds on jealousy and indifference and is not always repeated exactly.  The Gospel is truth. Then Amaziah the priest of Bethel sent to Jeroboam king of Israel, saying, Amos hath conspired against thee in the midst of the house of Israel: the land is not able to bear all his words.  For thus Amos saith, Jeroboam shall die by the sword, and Israel shall surely be led away captive out of their own land.

Verses 12-13 remind us that people want worldly economic stability more than morality.  Competition disrupts the status quo.  Amaziah tried to discredit Amos and run him from the area, tying him to economic problems which were sin problems of the nation. 

People did not want their sin pointed out by the preacher Amos.  Morality does not have a price and immorality cannot bear the words of morality.  Prosperity is not always a sign of God’s approval and Amos tried to relay that to the nation

Verses 16-17 teach us that living by gossip, worldly economics, and fearing man does not give peace and leads to destruction.  Mankind cries peace, peace without God.  There is coming a time when the world will suffer without the voice of believers available.  There will be a time when God’s grace has passed. The Word of God goes out through reading and proclamation, but is not heeded.  People reject the message and sometimes the messenger.  May we, believers in Jesus Christ, continue share the Gospel in a world that darkens with evil and the return of our risen savior is drawing near.

"LIFE FROM ACROSS THE TRACKS"

I never will forget the first time I heard the phrase “Below the Bogue” which I learned is the same as “South of the Bogue.”  I think I understood its meaning before anyone told me.  I am from across the tracks myself.  I grew up in rural Alabama in a community called Mars Hill.  While in school, Jemison folks called those who lived across the tracks “that bunch from Mars Hill.”

Most of us from Mars Hill lived in shacks, used outdoor toilets, and wore hand-me-down clothes.  We went to school Monday through Friday, to town on Saturday and church on Sundays.  Our dads hauled pulpwood and our mammas stayed at home. 

The best thing about being from Mars Hill was most were great athletes.  A picture of the 1917 Mars Hill baseball team crowns the cover of A Pictorial History of Chilton County.  Jemison High school state championships in baseball, basketball, football, softball, tennis, and volleyball all have Mars Hill athletes as their all-states, all conferences, and captains. 

It was in Sunday school that I learned that the Apostle Paul preached at Mars Hill, not the one in Chilton County, but the one in the Bible.  He had a difficult time preaching there.  They were a tough bunch in Mars Hill.  Mars Hill people are always tough.  If the Bible mentioned Mars Hill, I knew that being from Mars Hill was prophetic and had its advantages.

I have always had to defend my Mars Hill roots.  A church I pastored was one of the places I felt the bias.  A church member confronted me about the issue of prayer for one of our mission programs.  I wanted the leaders to teach our children and youth how to pray.  We had a wonderful missions program and it was a model for the Alabama Baptist State Board of Missions in Montgomery.  Two of our RA’s were pages at the Southern Baptist Convention in Salt Lake City one year.  One of the two got a scholarship to Samford University through our RA program. 

I did not want to sidetrack mission ministries, but wanted incorporate prayer and teach the importance of prayer in concert and in support of missions.  The response I received knocked the wind from my sails.  The sin of sanctifying geography and the sin of sanctifying size reared its ugly head.  The church member said, “I know that you pastored a little old church in the sticks of Bibb County and you did not have many members so you know nothing of missions.  You need to leave the missions to us.” 

The truth was that I served as vice-moderator, moderator, and the Associational Brotherhood director for Bibb Baptist Association.  My Bibb church was a mission church.  I had been a Royal (RA) Ambassador since boyhood and understood very much the value of missions.  The Bibb church lead Bibb Association churches in giving eight percent to the Association. 

I did not take his statement as personal attack, but it did affront me because he offended the kind, generous, and saintly members of that little church.  I felt as though this church member had slapped little churches and pastors of little churches in the face by such a diabolical statement.

I have learned that it is more important where the Lord takes you than where you have been.  Jesus’ teachings speak volumes about geography and size when He calls us to follow Him.  Let me use this paraphrase:  “Give me who you are and forget where you came” is the call to follow Jesus.  Wow, I wish I had known back then what I know today.

Are we guilty of the sin of sanctifying geography when we refer to “that bunch from Mars Hill” or “South of the Bogue?”  Where the Lord takes us is more important that where we have been.  Are we guilty of the sin of sanctifying size when we compare churches or say we are too small to do anything?  God has no small churches.

The day following Jesus would go forth into Galilee, and findeth Philip, and saith unto him, Follow me.  Now Philip was of Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter.  Philip findeth Nathanael, and saith unto him, We have found him, of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.  And Nathanael said unto him, Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? Philip saith unto him, Come and see (John 1:43-46 KJV).