"Using a Paint Brush to Catch Men"

Every time I paint or smell fresh paint, I think of my old friend Cecil.  Cecil was a transplant to rural Chilton County from Birmingham.  It was fun watching his family and him adjust to rural living.  His wife, son, and daughter attended my home church, but Cecil did not.

Cecil was one of our frequent stops for church visitation.  He was always cordial and polite.  He enjoyed our visit but would not attend church even though every Sunday he would bring his children to church and drop them off for Sunday school.

Cecil’s vocation as a painter meant that he worked mostly in metro Birmingham.  It was through this work that God used his co-workers as witnesses.  His coworkers were faithful Christian men.  When you spend more hours with coworkers than you do your family, one learns much about a person.  Cecil’s coworkers never intimidated, but just talked about how good God was.

Day in and day out Cecil’s coworkers talked of their churches and the work that the Lord was doing.  They were able to do what our church visitation could not.  This daily witness through their conversations was the Holy Spirit’s way of touching Cecil’s heart.  One Sunday morning Cecil did not drop off his children.  He came with them.  During the morning invitation, Cecil jumped from the pew and ran down the aisle with his hands lifted saying, “Praise God, praise God.”  During his baptism, he told how he wasted many years of serving God.  When he came up out of the water he shouted, “Praise God, praise God.”

Cecil did not miss a service.  You knew when Cecil was there because he would say amen, halleluiah, or praise God.  This was unusual for my home church, which had an old deacon who always frowned upon any kind of Pentecostal jargon, ecclesiastic shenanigans, or heavenly applause. During one Christmas cantata, Cecil cried and shouted during the performance.  Don’t you know it must have been difficult for preachers and evangelists to preach to a non-responsive pre-Cecil congregation?

Cecil became a member of our church visitation program.  He was very active in our jailhouse ministry.  If the church had an activity, he was there.  He never taught but he did paint.  Boy, could he paint.  If you around him when he wore his work clothes, you could smell paint.  He smelled like a freshly painted room, clean and refreshing.

Our church helped remodel the associational office and we volunteered to do the painting.  I am a three-coat painter.  I paint the wall, me, and everything else.  Cecil was a one-coat painter.  He said if you wipe the brush more than once, you were rubbing off the paint.  Cecil could paint window frames without taping.  He was fun to watch.

On one occasion, we helped a sister church do some construction work.  When we arrived, a man named Snuffy was painting the eves of the church.  He had a stepladder, a can of paint, and a brush.  Cecil volunteered to help Snuffy. 

After a few minutes, Cecil asked if he could give Snuffy a break.  Cecil noticed that Snuffy was wiping off more paint than he applied.  Cecil went up the ladder painted and did more painting in a few seconds than Snuffy had in several minutes.  Snuffy was continually moving the ladder because Cecil could paint so fast.  Cecil said that he had a telescoping work plank, we call it a pique board up home, and ladders at home that would speed up the painting.  Cecil borrowed my truck and returned with the painting accessories. 

What would have taken Snuffy weeks, Cecil did in a couple of hours.

What seemed as a short time later, Cecil was diagnosed with cancer and died.  He continued to attend church, sometimes in a wheelchair, until he became bedridden.  In his brief time as a believer, Cecil witnessed to many people.  He had a great testimony.  According to Delos Miles in his book, Introduction to Evangelism, Cecil was an individual soul winner.  After Cecil’s conversion, he lived what Jesus said to Simon, “Apo tou nun anthropous ese zogron.”  That is, “From now on you will be catching men.” Cecil used a paintbrush to catch men just as his coworkers with him.

For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing (Second Corinthians 2:15 NIV).

“Accidents Will Happen”

 Most of us should be recovering from bulging bellies and thunder thighs from too much barbeque, potato salad, baked beans, and peach clobber; from aching pains and soreness from volleyball, pitching horseshoes, playing softball, and swimming which is really arthritic flare-up and gout caused uric acid overload from too much watermelon, cantaloupe, and pork.; and from sunburn from showing too much skin and applying too little sunscreen.

When I think of celebrating a safe Fourth of July, I think of my cousin, Stevie.  My aunt threatened to lock him in a room take away his Independence Day.  Stevie was an accident waiting to happen during pre-teen and teenage years.

One Fourth he aggravated Grandmoe Chapman’s dog one too many times.  Rover was Grandmoe’s mutt and trusted “guard dawg”. On this particular Fourth, Rover got even by biting a hole in Stevie’s lip.  This meant a quit trip to Dr. Joe Moore in Clanton.  Stevie got stitches and a shot. 

Another Fourth Stevie was playing with a step ladder.  The ladder collapsed almost severing fingers from both hands.  It was another quick trip to see Dr. Joe for stitches and another shot.

On another Fourth we were working on an old rear engine Chevy Covair.  It had one fan belt that looped from the top down around the side and the back bottom of the engine through a series of pulleys.

Stevie and my brothers were watching the belt trying to diagnose a squeak.  They told me to bump the engine (that’s a Chilton County turning without starting).  I bumped it and they yelled for me to stop.  Stevie was pointing at a pulley just as I bumped it and his fingers went between the belt and the pulley.

You probably have guessed it by now.  When I went to see the commotion, Stevie had two fingers dangling and one finger with a compound fracture.  I told daddy we needed to carry Stevie to the doctor.  He asked how bad the fingers were.  I said, “Bad.”  I had wrapped them and would not let Stevie see them.  When dad saw them, he said, “Let’s go.”  My dad and I loaded in my hotrod Cutlass Supreme and raced to none other than Dr. Joe.

Dr. Joe shook his head as he filled a shot.  He had a few choice words for Stevie and commenced to set the fractured finger and sew the other two back together and hope Stevie did not lose them.  Stevie never cried through the whole ordeal until Dr. Joe stuck his fingers for the surgery.  My aunt had a few choice words for Stevie when we returned him home.

It gets better.  One Fourth Stevie and my brothers decided they would make their own fireworks.  They found out that if you mixed red-devil lye with aluminum foil and water it created helium.  Their scheme was to put the material in a coke bottle and trap the helium in balloons.  They put balloons on the mouth of the bottles.  For fireworks they would remove the balloons, tie rags on the balloons, and light the rags with a lighter.  Rising high over the Chilton County sky the balloons exploded with brilliant colors.

It was so successful that they expanded their experiment.  More aluminum foil, red-devil lye, and water would make a bigger explosion.  It did.  The coke bottle exploded and melting aluminum went everywhere.  Stevie received the most.  Dancing an Indian rain dance for relief, my brothers and another cousin tried spraying water on Stevie’s brightly glowing legs and shorts.  Water was a no no because water is the catalyst to start the chemical reaction.  It spread the concoction and Stevie made another trip to Dr. Joe.  At least there were no stitches, only gauze and cream for burns.

Stevie had one more bad Fourth.  Two other cousins and he went to the local store for fireworks.  No more concoctions.  The sun was setting as Steve and his cousin left the store on a Yamaha motorcycle.  They stopped to shoot some fireworks.  Stevie, setting on the back heard the other cousin leave the store on his 750 Honda.  He was winding it out.  This cousin wore glasses and had difficulty seeing at night.

Stevie screamed, “He can’t see us!”  They took off trying to get out of the way.  For a cousin that could not see, he hit the motorcycle dead center of the rear tire pushing the rear tire into the engine of the bike and forcing the front tire of the his bike into the 750 engine.  Bikes locked together; the trio slid around seventy-five feet up the highway.  One cousin was bruised, one had bleeding arm, and Stevie had rocks embedded in his buttocks.  He slid on gravel which ate through pants, underwear, and skin.  My aunt had a few more choice words as she used a pair of tweezers to remove the rocks and then a trip to Dr. Joe where he placed Stevie head down and filled his rear end with Ivory soap to remove tar, dirt, and gravel and prep for another shot.  He did not have stitches, but our other cousin had forty-five or more on his arm.

 A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished (Proverbs 22:3 - KJV).

I am glad God watches over us, especially Stevie growing up.

I am your Creator. You were in my care even before you were born (Isaiah 44:2a - CEV).

  

"Widow's Mite"

Mrs. Callie Plier, a widow in my home church and one of my earliest Sunday School teachers, taught me faith by example.  Mrs. Callie lived so far off the main road that the phone company would not provide her service.  I quit and refused to support our volunteer fire department because they refused to provide service for her. 

On top of that, Mrs. Callie lived alone and did not own a car.  She said that her situation provided her time to spend with the Lord.  She was a praying woman and lived by faith.

Mrs. Callie generously supported her church and it’s missions.  I remember visiting her after she invited me to her home.  She wanted to talk to me about my future in the ministry.  After a long affirmation of my call, she gave me ten dollars, a large sum for a small widow lady.  She said that God called me and she wanted to support my ministry.  I used it as seed money for books at the University of Montevallo and the beginning of a long journey in ministry.

I thank God for her encouragement, her teaching, and her demonstration of faith by giving.  When we give to the cause of Christ, we worship, demonstrate faith, and become ensamples for others.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1 KJV)

Now concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order to the churches of Galatia, even so do ye.  Upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come (I Corinthians16:1-2 KJV)

Brethren, be followers together of me, and mark them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample (Philippians 3:17 KJV).

"Come on in Boys the Water is Fine"

My first cousin Floyd was the first person I saw baptized.  The church all went down to Six Mile Creek west of the bridge.  I remember the preacher dressed in a white shirt going down into the water, which was murky, kind of a lucent greenish brown.

The creek was good for camping, fishing, and swimming.  Back before all the cotton poison washed out of the fields and down into the creek, you could catch bream, bass, and catfish.  I spent many nights on Six Mile Creek checking fishing poles baited with “mud puppies,” “water lizards,” or salamanders.  I remember wondering if a fish was going to nibble old Floyd.

Floyd went down into the water and baptized in the same fashion as Delmar from the movie Oh Brother Where Art Thou.  The water in the scene from the movie looks akin to that of Six Mile Creek.

Someone in my home church got the notion that the church needed an inside, store bought, heated, baptism pool.  For some reason the church stopped using the creek and started borrowing the baptism pool at Macedonia, a neighboring church.  That’s where I was baptized a few years after Floyd.  Many years would pass before my home church would have their own inside, store bought, heated baptism pool.

It came with a new auditorium; we tore down the old church and replaced it with the present day auditorium.  As a twenty-three year, I somehow got railroaded into being the work coordinator for the building.  Our church was blessed with carpenters so I coordinated Saturday workdays.  In just a few weeks, we had this big beautiful sanctuary with choir loft, baptism pool, fluorescent lights, padded pews, central heating and cooling, and a modern sound system.

God blessed the church and many souls came to know the Lord.  One was a life-long friend of my momma named Tean.  Tean, now with the Lord, had always had a thyroid problem and was overweight.  I remember as a kid watching her arrive to church with her little car tilted from her weight.

My daughter Angela said when she was little that my momma chewed her out for mocking Tean.  She said she was not mocking, but following Ms. Tean and trying to walk like her.

David Myers, our pastor at the time was a small round man and usually needed assistance during baptisms.  Since the baptism pool was covered with curtains, we didn’t have one of those fancy river scenes on the wall, my job was to open and close the curtains.

My friend Heedy Hayes helped Brother Myers.  Heedy and I were in charge making sure everything was right for baptism.  The church well could not supply enough water for baptisms so we used water from the creek using the volunteer fire department water truck.

Since Heedy and I, along with others from the church, helped create the West Chilton Fire Department, the church we used it.  The water was nasty.  Heedy and I would spend Saturday afternoon using his sister’s swimming pool filter getting the water crystal clear for Sunday baptism.

As the big day, no pun intended, approached for Tean’s baptism, I asked Brother Myers if he had considered whether or not, Tean could get in the baptism pool.  He said he thought it was big enough.  I told him I wasn’t worried about the pool but the door leading down to the baptism pool.  Having been in charge of those things during construction, I knew that the door was a small, like ones on closets.  Suddenly Brother Myers was concerned.  We got the bright idea to hug one another and see if we could get through the door.  We did and we were relieved.

When the moment came, the church was full, along with the baptism pool.  I closed the curtain after a brief word from our beloved pastor about baptism.  Heedy assisted Tean down into the baptism waters.  With each step down, the pristine water of repentance rose higher.  The preacher, Heedy, and I forgot to calculate water displacement.

As Tean reached the bottom, the water that washes sin away crested near the top of the glass.  A Holy gasp ending with “whew” vibrated across that new auditorium.

Brother Myers took Tean, said I baptize you my sister in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.  There with a bird’s eye view to the preacher’s right hand, I saw Tean go down and the waters flow over into the new choir loft in front of me.

This baptism mired the on going debate about washing sins away.  Some did not want the baptism pool, opting for the creek believing running water was better than still water for the washing away of sin.  I always told them when we pulled the plug; it became running water headed back to the creek.

Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are the two ordinances Baptists observe.  Baptisms have been in decline for many years prompting an investigation by the Southern Baptist Convention creating a taskforce on SBC Evangelist Impact and Declining Baptisms.  Dr Timothy George, one of my professors, responded to the taskforce findings with his article “Troubled Waters.” The article states that baptisms are no longer the central part of the act of Christian worship and have been tacked onto a service or are an appendix of the main event. It is no longer promoted as the decisive, life-transforming confession witness.  Baptism is a conscientious act of repentance and faith.

Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand . . . I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance: but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost . . . And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him: And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased (Matthew 3:1b, 11, 16-17 KJV).