Eating Peacock, Laying Tile and Getting Peed On

They never told me about all the odd jobs, both paid and volunteer, that ministry offers, or seems at times, demands. At various times in my 33 years, there have been seasons that necessitated my working a little part-time job to make ends meet.

I spent one summer working on the ranch of a church member putting in fence. He paid me, even though I cut his expensive tape measure into two pieces with the post hole diggers. It was also there that I first tried a peacock sandwich. He kept peacocks on his ranch running wild. Early one morning he heard a fuss and went out to find one had just been killed by a predator. It was still fresh, so he dressed it and we baked it and ate it for lunch. What did it taste like? You guessed it... Chicken! He was also pretty big on Mountain Oysters, but I passed on those. If you're not sure about Mountain Oysters, ask your friends; someone will know.

Another summer, I worked with a local Pastor and friend who had a construction remodeling business on the side. He left me on the job in a hot, closed-in space with a jackhammer tearing out a concrete floor. I have never been so tired at the end of a day.

Then there were all the odd things you just help people do out of the goodness of your heart, right? Our Worship Pastor, Gary, had promised my son, who was President of the high school Christian Club, that he would lead a couple of songs at See-You-At-The-Pole. The night before the event, he called begging off since he lived some distance away. I sort of put my foot down about it and suggested strongly that it would be wrong of him to back out at such late notice and that it was important for him to keep his word. To his credit and my gratitude, he honored me and made his appearance.

Sometime later, he asked me if I would come to his house and show him how to lay ceramic tile in his bathroom. Since I had learned to lay tile for myself, I offered to assist him one Saturday. On the appointed day, the last thing in the world I wanted to do was lay tile, but I remembered my speech to him about keeping one's word. I realized that instead of putting my foot down, I had put it in my mouth. There was nothing I could do but go. After watching Gary for a while, I realized he was doing a great job on his own. It was a small room that would not accommodate both of us working at once, but I certainly could not suggest that I was unnecessary and should go home. After sometime, Gary said, "Pastor, I think I have it under control now, so why don't you go home. Besides, I know the only reason you came is because you had to honor your word after making me honor mine." I did not realize it was so obvious. As we sat talking a few minutes before I left, his new puppy came running over to me, hiked his leg and peed on my foot. Gary was so embarrassed and with repeated apologies got the puppy under control. I was definitely ready to go home. Gary, however, in the next Sunday morning service was not so embarrassed. He told the whole church about how I had made him follow through with his promise and how funny it was that I then had to eat my own words and be there to help him. On top of everything else, he then announced to the entire morning congregation that his dog had peed on the preacher's foot. Of course, everyone thought it was hilarious.

They never told me in Bible College that I would get peed on, sometimes literally as in the story above, and other times figuratively. I think we'll save the figurative stories for another time (or maybe never).

Breaking the Color Barrier

Even though the Civil Rights Movement had survived its turbulent first days of expression in Selma, Montgomery and Birmingham by the time I was off to Bible College in 1972, I really still had no preparation for dealing with racial issues in our fine Southern churches.

So, what does a Pastor do back in the mid-seventies, when standing on the stage as the worship begins, he looks up to see a new family come in the sanctuary doors of our southern, all-white church congregation. The family consists of the African American Dad (at that time it was appropriate to say that he was Black), a Caucasion Mom (called a white woman) and two beautiful children. I remember thinking that we were going to very quickly find out what we were made of as a church family. They joined in the worship and, I'm sure in hindsight, felt rather uncomfortable being there, yet determined to find a place.

At the end of the service as I was making my way toward them to get acquainted, I saw one of our members making a bee line for the couple. I was just close enough to hear the conversation. "I want you to know right now that I don't think it is right for you two to be married. I think it's wrong and I don't like it at all." I was beginning to shudder with the realization that any hopes I had for a gracious reception of this family into our church was nigh impossible, when to my absolute shock and awe, this member went on to say, "But, I'm gonna tell you one thing right now. If you want to come to our church, you're going to be welcome here!" Wow, I almost passed out with gratitude.

Another man probably did more Bible study in the next couple of weeks than he had his whole life, looking for a scripture to condemn this inter-racial marriage. He caught me one Sunday morning right after the service with a scripture reference, Ezra 10:10. He said, "Pastor, I found a scripture that proves they shouldn't be married. Look at it this afternoon and tell me tonight what you think of it." That afternoon I looked up Ezra 10:10, which reads, "And Ezra the priest stood up, and said unto them, Ye have transgressed, and have taken strange wives, to increase the trespass of Israel." Of course, he was referring to the phrase , "strange wives", which Ezra meant as a reference to Israel marrying the women of the ungodly nations among whom the Israelites lived and adopting their idolatrous customs. This member wanted to twist the scripture to imply that inter-racial marriage was an abomination to God. As soon as I saw this man that evening, he came running up to me, "Did you read that scripture? What do you think about that verse?" I said, "You know, it says that the Israelite men were not to take 'strange wives' unto themselves. Is that what you wanted me to read?" "Yes," he said excitedly, "What do you think?" I said, "Well, I'm not sure exactly what you're getting at. There is nothing strange about her. She's as white as any of us!" My friend muttered something under his breath and walked away.

I am happy to report this family did find a welcome in our church, even from these two men. It turns out our new member was a talented musician who had actually performed with some pretty famous people, such as Bob Hope. He took an active role in our music ministry, leading some pretty impressive Easter Cantatas and Dramas in his tenure with us. They eventually moved on, but we were grateful to have had them as part of our church family for the time they were with us.

Now we have elected an African American President. I suspect we can all say, "We've come a long way, baby!" The experience I noted above was not the only racial battle I have fought within church settings, but I'm grateful for each one that has strengthened my resolve to embrace all people with the message of God's love.