WE’RE PORTERS, SIR

            As Southern Baptists, we have mission work in our blood. Mission work always creates excitement, whether it is local or across the world. It is a time of venturing into the unknown, meeting different people, and experiencing the power of God.

I remember my second mission trip to Wyoming during the 1980s’ Alabama/Wyoming partnership. The Bridger Valley Baptist Church in Lyman, Wyoming, needed help with a mission in Granger, Wyoming, and Pastor Bertis Ray, an Alabama boy, extended a Macedonian call to come help them.

A log home company donated a building to believers in Granger. The Chilton Baptist Builders’ mission was to remodel the log home and make a small church. Bridger Valley, the sponsoring church, said that it would be ready for our team. The Chilton Baptist Builders were in their second year of existence as mission workers. The first trip, we had driven to Kemmerer, Wyoming. On this second trip, we decided to fly. That was the beginning of an eventful mission memory.

I remember it was the first time to fly for several of us. Somewhere between Birmingham and Memphis, I experienced a holy hush. It was a wine-and-cheese-sampler flight. Being from a dry county and being teetotaler Baptists, we confused the flight attendant by our refusal to partake of the different flavors of cheese and wine. Someone did suggest what we could have the Lord’s Supper, since they were serving wine, but since it was our Lord’s last meal, we did not want this to be our last meal because of drinking the communion wine. What I thought of as a holy hush after that moment was really my ears being stopped up from the altitude change. I realized this when I could see people talking but could not hear them. I learned to chew gum to make my ears pop.

Flying into Salt Lake City International Airport, we watched a severe thunderstorm beneath us as we circled the airport. We noticed a great big flash on the horizon. We saw that the Great Salt Lake resembled an Alabama catfish pond. It was much bigger when we got on the ground. We were glad that we hadn't drunk the wine and that we had missed being struck by lightning.

Exiting the plane, we went to get our luggage. One of my bags was the first to come up and around the carousel. Soon everyone had his luggage, and we were ready to go, as I waited for my second piece. All of a sudden, the airport went black. The thunderstorm had knocked off all the power in northern Utah and southwest Wyoming. I decided to go down into the luggage carousel. I saw my piece, retrieved it, and we went to find our ride. I am glad the electricity did not come back on while I was inside the carousel.

Outside, a black man asked if he could take our luggage. David, one of our team who had never been out of Chilton County, said “Sure.” He told the man that it was neighborly of him to offer.

After he had carried our luggage on his cart to the curbside, the black man stood at attention, lowered his left hand by his side, snapped his fingers, and said, “We are porters, sir.”

David said, “Glad to meet you. I’m an Easterling and we have some Porters back home in Clanton.”

The porter snapped his fingers again and said, “We are porters, sir.”

I said, “David, he wants a tip.” I was pretty country myself, but I knew tipping porters was different from tipping cows. David gave him a dollar. The man snapped his fingers again. David gave more, and I gave some. David was neither a generous giver nor a happy missionary.

Pastor Ray stood outside with a sign with alabama printed on it. We loaded in his van for a 135-mile trip to Granger. We were hungry; remember we had had only cheese and water or soft drinks for our only meal of the day. All of northern Utah was without power, had no places to eat, and we had a long ride before we found a place with power and food.

Finally, we stopped at Bingo’s Truck Stop in Evanston, Wyoming. It was ten at night, Wyoming time. The cook there looked like the cook on Hee-Haw, except he did not have a flyswatter. Bingo’s had a twelve-ounce T-bone special. I ordered it medium rare. When the cook brought it out, it was the largest steak I had ever seen. The French fries were on another plate. I could not eat it, and I took it back. With the toothpick rolling in his mouth, the cook said, “What’s wrong?”

I said, “You are going to have to ‘lick that calf again.’” That means you have to do it again.

He said, “You said medium rare.”

I replied to him, “I can eat a steak when it is rare, when it is red, when blood is seeping out, but it has to be hot!” The steak had ice crystals around the bone on the side against the platter.

He said, “Complaints, complaints …”

I was hungry, but not that hungry. He heated it thoroughly, and I ate it.

We pulled a Willie Nelson and got on the road again. Arriving at Granger at midnight, we found the log home. It was sitting on the ground; there was no phone, no power, no water, and no sewage. We thought as we surveyed the situation, Welcome to mission excitement.

And a vision appeared to Paul in the night; There stood a man of Macedonia, and prayed him, saying, Come over into Macedonia, and help us. And after he had seen the vision, immediately we endeavoured to go into Macedonia, assuredly gathering that the Lord had called us for to preach the gospel unto them. (Acts 16:9–10, KJV)

If you have flown, describe how you feel about flying. If you have not, do you desire to fly?

Most believers are stingy when it comes to tipping. What kind of tipper are you?

Have you as an individual, or your church, ever received a Macedonian call?

Prayer: Generous and gracious Father, flying changed my perspective about clouds and the earth. It made me realize how great You are. Meeting new people and ministering in new places gave me a new meaning to the Great Commission. Thank You for Macedonian calls and the ability to respond.

 From Bro Bobby's 31 day Devotional: I Will Speak Using Stories 

To be continued … 

Change and the New Normal

May 18, 2013 Union Springs Baptist Church of Randolph, Alabama celebrated 100 years of ministry.  The church celebrated by reminiscing through testimony, pictures, song, and preaching.

April and May in the South is a time for decorations and homecomings.  Union Springs does neither.  I will never forget while in Seminary hearing some preacher friends speaking of Decoration Day.  They were not too fond of them.  Having grown up in a church that did not observe this day, I had to ask what Decoration Day was.  I did not want to appear dumber that I am, I tried to listen long enough to try and figure out what it was.  I finally garnered enough nerve to ask my friend Hugh.  Hugh, very blunt and needing a few more classes on tact, said, “Worship of the dead, dummy.”

I did not know what worship of the dead was.  Hugh and others gave me a quick lesson the 1001 ways that churches celebrate Decoration.  They could not believe that my home church did not observe it.

Union Springs stopped observing Homecoming in the mid 1960’s.  The first time I remember a celebration was a 75^th Anniversary and then a 90^th one.  There have been plenty of changes.  I remember that in the Seventies the church voted to hide the Peavey speakers behind some speaker cloth because Peavey looked too rock and roll.  The only musical instruments were the piano and the organ.  Guitars, drums, taped music, and trumpets were prohibited.  To applaud after a special was sacrilegious.  To raise a hand, say amen or hallelujah guaranteed a stern look and grunt from a deacon or two.

That era is gone after one hundred years.

It was good to see some changes, but the biggest change was people.  Yeah, women with two first names such as Betty Mae, Betty Jo, Betty Jean, Sara Nell, Patsy Ann, Mary Jane, and Judy Kay were there and folks talked of Fannie Ruth, Kitty Sue, Dorothy Faye, and Ruby Nell’s passing when seeing their pictures.

Many have passed in 100 years.  I remember Brother Arch Crumpton.  For many years he and the preacher were the only men in the church.  Brother Arch would walk to church, about four miles, start a fire in the pot-bellied stove, return home, and bring the family to church on a wagon.  The church honored his daughter Myrtle at the Anniversary as the oldest member of the church.

I remember having Ms. Myrtle as my junior (I think that would be 3^rd and 4^th grade today) Sunday school teacher.  I remember stepping over stacks of boards used for flooring the newly built Sunday school room in her class.

Had it not been for the faithful women of Union Springs Baptist Church, there would be no church today.  Myrtle Hayes, Callie Plier, Adderene Pate, Tommie Mitchell taught me the Word of God.  I remember while in Seminary, classmates would ask, “Where did you learn that?”  I responded very slowly, “S U N D A Y  S C H O O L.”

As men were saved, guys like Bill Langston and Heedy Hayes taught me missions through the RA’s (Royal Ambassador).  Union Springs was one of the top supporters of the Cooperative Program, the Alabama State Board of Missions, and Chilton Baptist Association.  Union Springs was very instrumental in preparing me to be a Director of Missions.

I remember international, North American, and state missionaries sharing their work during times of worship.  I remember crying the night Union Springs showed the movie, Bill Wallace of China.  We got so involved in missions that we had a crew of men travel to the Mobile area to repair a roof of a church destroyed by Hurricane Fredrick.  One of our members, Wayne Dutton, went on a building mission’s project to Bogotá, Columbia in 1980 and set in motion the beginning of building mission trips that continues today.  Union Springs helped initiate the Chilton Baptist Builders.

My involvement with the Chilton Baptist Builders led to my call into the ministry.  My first recall of being at Union Springs was when we first moved back to Alabama from Illinois in 1960.  The little white church did not have Sunday School rooms, but they did have wires, which crisscrossed the auditorium.  Red curtains help to separate four areas designated for classes.  I do not remember who preached or the sermon topic, but I remember singing a song about a worm and a cross.



Alas! And did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?



Union Springs called me as an RA leader, a Sunday School teacher, and as a deacon.  Union Springs licensed me to preach, and ordained me into full time ministry.  They gave me a scholarship for college and members such as Tac, James, and Callie helped finance me early in my ministry.  I am fortunate to have been part of the 100 years of Union Spring’s ministries.

The Psalmist says it best when I am asked, “Where is your God?”



When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday Psalm 42:4 KJV.

I wonder what the new normal will be after the COVID - 19 virus has run its course and people start to gather again.

"Calamity Jane"

As Southern Baptists mission work is in our blood.  It always creates excitement whether it is local or across the world.  It is a time of venturing into the unknown, meeting different people, and experiencing the power of God.

I remember my second trip to Wyoming during the 1980’s Alabama/Wyoming partnership.  The Bridger Valley Baptist Church in Lyman, Wyoming, needed help with a mission in Granger, Wyoming and extended a Macedonian call to come help them.

A log home company donated a building to Christian believers in Granger.  The Chilton Baptist Builders mission was to remodel the log home and make a small church.  Bridger Valley, the sponsoring church said that it would be ready for our team.  The Chilton Baptist Builders were in their second year of mission work.  The first trip we drove to Kemmerer, Wyoming.  On this second trip we decided to fly.  That was the beginning of an eventful mission memory.

I remember it was the first time to fly for several of us.  Somewhere between Birmingham and Memphis, I experienced a holy hush.  It was a wine and cheese sampler flight.  Being from a “dry county” and being “teetoler” Baptists, we confused the flight attendant by our refusal to partake of the different flavors of cheese and wine.  Someone did suggest what we could have the Lord’s Supper since they were serving wine, but since it was our Lord’s last meal, we did not want this to be our last meal due to drinking the communion wine.  What I thought of as a holy hush after that moment was really my ears were stopped up from the altitude change.  I realized this when I could see people talking but could not hear them.  I learned to chew gum to make my ears pop.

Flying into Salt Lake City International Airport, we watched a severe thunderstorm beneath us as we circled the airport.  We noticed a great big flash on the horizon and that the Great Salt Lake resembled an Alabama catfish pond.  It was much bigger when we got on the ground.  We were glad we did not drink the wine and missed being struck by lightning.

Exiting the plane, we went to get our luggage.  One of my bags was the first to come up and around the carousel.  Soon everyone had their luggage and was ready to go as I waited for my second piece.  All of a sudden the airport went black.  The thunderstorm knocked off all the power in northern Utah and southwest Wyoming.  I decided to go down into the luggage carousel.  I saw my piece, retrieved it, and we went to find our ride.  I am glad the electricity did not come back on.

Outside a black man asked if he could take our luggage.  David, one of our team who had never been out of Chilton County, said “Sure.”  He told the man that was neighborly of him to offer.

After he carried our luggage on this cart to the curbside, the black man stood at attention, lowered his left hand by his side, snapped his fingers, and said, “We are porters sir.”  David said, “Glad to meet you, I’m an Easterling and we have some Porters back home in Clanton.”  The porter snapped his fingers again and said, “We are porters sir.”

I said, “David, he wants a tip.”  I was pretty country myself, but I knew tipping porters was different than tipping cows.  David gave him a dollar.  The man snapped his fingers again.  David gave more, and I gave some.  David was not a happy missionary.

The host pastor stood outside with a sign with ALABAMA printed on it.  We loaded in his van for a 135 mile trip to Kemmerer.  We were hungry; remember we had only cheese and water or soft drinks for our only meal of the day.  All of northern Utah was without power, no place to eat and a long ride before we found a place with power.

Finally, we stopped Bingo’s Truck Stop in Evanston, Wyoming.  It was ten at night, Wyoming time.  The cook there looked like the cook on Hee Haw except he did not have fly swatter.  Bingo’s had a 12-ounce T-bone special.  I ordered it medium rare.  When he brought it out it was the largest steak I had ever seen.  The French fries were on another plate.  I could not eat it and I took it back.  With the toothpick rolling in his mouth the cook said, “What’s wrong?”

I said, “You are going to have to “lick that calf again”.”  He said, “You said medium rare.”  I replied to him, I can eat a steak when it is rare, when it is red, when blood is seeping out, but it has to be hot!  The steak had ice crystals around the bone on the side against the platter.  He said, complaints, complaints. . .  I was hungry, but not that hungry. 

We pulled a Willie Nelson and got on the road again.  Arriving at Granger at midnight, we found the log home.  It was sitting on the ground; there was no phone, no power, no water, and no sewage.  We thought as we surveyed the situation, welcome to mission excitement.

And a vision appeared to Paul in the night; There stood a man of Macedonia, and prayed him, saying, Come over into Macedonia, and help us.  And after he had seen the vision, immediately we endeavoured to go into Macedonia, assuredly gathering that the Lord had called us for to preach the gospel unto them (Acts 16:9-10 KJV).

The Chilton Baptist Builders were tired and sleepy that first night at Granger, Wyoming.  Church members from Bridger Valley and Granger provided some travel trailers and a mobile home that had Sunday school rooms, for us to sleep.  I slept on the floor of the children’s class room.  It had carpet.

The host pastor said that seven miles up the road on the Interstate was Little America, a large souvenir shop where there were bathrooms and showers for truckers.  That was a good hike to use the restroom.  Thank goodness the church did provide us with a van.  It was Saturday night, but we could wait to Sunday morning to shower at Little America and dress for morning worship at Bridger Valley.

The next morning we tried to decide what to do first.  The host church was to have the log cabin ready for us to remodel.  It was on the ground.  The grounds had large holes for water and sewage lines.  In Wyoming the frost line is eight feet whereas in Alabama is four to eight inches.  It was a mess and we needed some power and needed to find who was in charge of the utilities.

As we talked we heard a racket and the banging of car doors.  Looking around the corner was an old Toyota pickup.  A lady was hauling barrels of water to water trees in planned community of Granger.  The church was in this small development area near a river.  Other than a Honky-tonk, the log cabin was all that was in the development on the river.

We asked her who the man in charge of the power was.  She said she was.  She said she would get it turned on.  We asked her who we need to see about the water.  She said she was in charge of the water.  Yes, you guessed it.  She was in charge of the sewage.  She chastised us when we asked for the man in charge.  She was very much in charge.

She wore blue jeans, a plaid shirt, cowboy, maybe that was a cowgirl boots.  Her demeanor and the feeble husband caused us to give here the nickname “Calamity Jane.”

She constantly flew in and around the church in that beat up old pickup.  I said flying because the doors would not stay closed and it looked like a bird flopping when she skidded up to the church.

When we tried to unload the water for her she reminded us she was not a Southern Belle but an independent Wild West woman to which we said, “Yes mam!”  She was good to keep us stocked with snacks and drinks.  We were glad she did not tote pistols.

For three days S.O., a slave to alcohol now gloriously saved and nicknamed “Rabbit” and I worked under the log cabin jacking it up.  Underneath were skunk dens.  We did not change clothes because we had skunk hair and skunk feces all over us.  We worked and ate alone.  We did shower and put on clean underwear each day.

On Wednesday Calamity Jane slid in and demanded that all the workers give her their dirty clothes.  Rabbit and I were under the church running electrical and water lines.  Rabbit said, “Be quiet and be still.”

Our guys tried to tell Calamity that it was okay, but that was like spitting in the wind.  They all disappeared and returned with their dirty clothes.  Calamity took them and then shouted, “Where’s your underwear?”  Rabbit and I were quiet as church skunks.  Wayne, our brave spokesman and electrician, tried to convince her that she did not need our dirty undies.  This time it was reminisce of the stand off at the shoot out at the OK corral.  Calamity did not have pistols, but those “wimps” disappeared and reappeared with their dirty BVD’s.  At least they were man enough not to squeal on the two dirty skunks under the church.  Calamity just wanted to minister.  She was not a Lydia, but she did love the Lord and His workers.  She returned every man’s clothes clean and folded.

And on the sabbath we went out of the city by a river side, where prayer was wont to be made; and we sat down, and spake unto the women which resorted thither.  And a certain woman named Lydia, a seller of purple, of the city of Thyatira, which worshipped God, heard us: whose heart the Lord opened, that she attended unto the things which were spoken of Paul.  And when she was baptized, and her household, she besought us, saying, If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my house, and abide there. And she constrained us (Acts 16:13-15 KJV).

We were able to winterize the little log cabin.  There was three inches between the window and the logs.  They were worshipping in weather that was below freezing. We put in a new ceiling, new lighting, and electrical outlets.  It is good to do mission work.  It shows us that people are different.  The people of Granger and Bridger Valley were wonderful and I often think of our time there.  I can say that for us “kountry boyz” from Chilton County that porters and Calamity Janes can be a culture shock.  They remind us that people need generous tips and lots of love, understanding and encouragement.  We did have the opportunity to witness, help change lives, and be changed as well as do some remodeling.  Mission work is exciting and eventful.

"Wow, All Night on the Creek"

Missions

“As a Royal Ambassador I will do my best:

to become a well informed responsible follower of Christ;

to have a Christlike concern for all people;

to learn how the message of Christ is carried around the world;

to work with others in sharing Christ;

and to keep myself clean in mind and body.”

I learned these words as a Royal Ambassador at the Union Springs Baptist Church in Randolph, Alabama.  Brother Bill Langston was our RA leader.  He taught Sunday School and was a deacon. 

One of the joys of being an RA was doing some great things.  The church did not budget money for the RA Chapter so one of the things we did to make money was wear out our family push-mowers cutting the grass around the church and for widows in the community.  The church paid us and the widows would fix us cookies and kool-aid.  There were no weed-eaters, just boys on their knees pulling grass around graves and buildings hoping for all night fishing trips.

All night fishing trips on Six-mile or Mahan Creek were great rewards for missions.  Brother Bill would load us onto a hay truck and head out for a night of memories.  This was before the day of lawsuits and release forms.  This pre-dated church vans and buses. There were no safety concerns.

After a night of sure fun, Bro. Bill would cook bacon and eggs in a skillet and brew coffee in a tin can on an open fire for breakfast.  We were hungry after a night of running wild, building huge fires, checking poles, catching catfish and eels, and eating fish.  Brother Bill always had a time of prayer and gave an invitation to follow Jesus.  He was doing Wild Game Suppers and Intentional Evangelism in the 1960’s.

One Christmas we got together and refurbished some old bicycles for some kids who were not receiving any gifts.  On another occasion we took our money and bought the church a film strip projector to show the film strips about missions.  That was the DVD of the 1960’s.

Did you know that another word for Southern Baptists is Missions?  In RA’s we studied missions not realizing that our money from cutting the grass was taking the Gospel to the uttermost parts of the world.  The RA pledge comes from First Corinthians 5:20a. Now then we are ambassadors for Christ . . . (KJV).  Brother Bill taught us that we were God’s ambassadors.

Our RA magazines featured some great Christian missionaries.  I cried when we watched the movie about Bill Wallace of China.  Some in my very conservative church thought we were doing evil by showing a movie in church, but our church got more involved in missions after watching it.

Our pastor thought the church should tithe and the church did more than the tithe.

Churches involved in missions grow.  The church that does not evangelize dies.  Pray for your Annie Armstrong Easter Offering and be involved in missions.  The last words of Jesus were about missions.  If your church is not tithing to missions, let me encourage you lead the church to commit to tithe.  If you are not tithing, remember that tithes and offerings are part of worship. 

May we be good stewards of that which the Lord has richly blessed us.  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 Corinthians 16:1-2 KJV).  A good ambassador is a good steward because he/she represents the Father.