Dear Jimmy,
Well, your Uncle Orley and I have pret’ near wrapped up all the loose ends of summer. The garden has played out and every shelf in the cellar is filled with clear quart or pint jars full of vegetables, fruit, applesauce or jelly. It gives a body a sense of real accomplishment, sure ‘nuff.
Uncle hired a man to come in and run the combine over the corn fields, so that’s done, too. He said he just wasn’t up to it this year which suited me just fine.
’Course, for some years now we’ve been kind of markin’ the end of summer by goin’ back to the old home place where Orley grew up and where your Uncle Calvin, still lives. You might recollect that’s the place on the river where mosquitoes get big as buzzards and they came close to carryin’ you off when you were a young’un.
Anyway, that’s where we went over Labor Day weekend, and did Calvin ever give us down the river, so to speak. Back a couple of years ago Orley told him about a young preacher we knew about who just finished his schoolin’. Your uncle figured since the preacher needed some place to start and that church wasn’t goin’ to win a beauty contest, if you know what I mean, that maybe they would be good for each other.
Well, it took them a long time, but finally they got around to callin’ this young feller as their pastor. Since Orley had suggested him, we went down there for his trial sermon and the church vote.
Calvin was the chairman of the search committee and I remember like it was yesterday, he said, “After much prayer and deliberation and seekin’ God’s will, your search committee is in full agreement that this is God’s man for our church.”
I guess the church felt the same way, ‘cause they called him without a dissentin’ vote. 100 percent, it was.
Well, to hear Calvin carry on now, you’d think this young man changed his name to Judas, sprouted horns and told them all to go the hot place in a hand basket. Calvin couldn’t buy a good word to say about his pastor even if he were of a mind to.
Uncle Orley and I figure it’s just a matter of time before they run him off. Calvin’s not a bad man, but he’s almost beside himself over this.
Well, ever since we got home, I’ve been doin’ some serious thinkin’. I keep askin’ myself, “How could this happen?” They were so sure when they called him that they were gettin’ it right. How could it have turned out so wrong?
I don’t know if any of these are right, but I’ve studied on it right hard and here’s what I’ve come up with.
Maybe they just plain got it wrong. Could be that in spite of their prayers, they were just out of step, spiritually speakin’, and the Spirit was sayin’, “Don’t do it,” and they just called him anyhow. Course, they weren’t the only ones prayin’. I know the preacher was, too. I guess they all could have missed it, but surely somebody would have caught on.
Or, I figure it could be that either the pastor, or the church or both, was so dad-burned desperate that they heard what they wanted to. Maybe the Spirit was wavin’ all kinds of red flags they ignored.
I’ve heard of churches that didn’t tell the whole truth to a preacher they were fixin’ to call. I reckon they might not be too keen on bein’ led by the Spirit ‘cause the Spirit might say to the preacher, “Run for your life.”
But, I know it works the other way, too. You remember your Daddy’s church called that preacher who just plumb neglected to tell the committee that he was a pervert who’s gotten sent up the river for a time for molestin’children? Don’t reckon he wanted the Spirit to have much to do with the process, either.
’Course, in this case nothin’ like that was goin’ on, but it could be that sometimes we get so fired up to do the Lord’s work, and so all fired sure we know what that is that we don’t need to listen to the Lord ‘cause we already know what He’d say. Except we don’t.
Or, I guess it could be that the church was listenin’ and the preacher was listenin’ and they got married, so to speak, just like they were supposed to. But maybe, just like in marriage sometimes, each one sort of took the other for granted and before long little disappointments added up to big resentments. Could be that just like married couples, churches and pastors need to be honest enough to clear the air sometimes. And, just because they fight sometimes it don’t mean their gettin’ divorced—unless they just keep on fightin’ and never get around to makin’ up.
I’ve been a Baptist long enough to know that there’s no such thing as a perfect church, and, since pastors are human, I don’t reckon any of them are perfect either. Lovin’ each other even when we’re not bein’ loveable, and livin’ with each other’s imperfections are what Orley and I have been doin’ so long that I can hardly remember when we didn’t have each other to lean on.
Seems like a lot of churches decide they shoulda married somebody else and decide to get a divorce. And some preachers are always lookin’ for a prettier bride. That just don’t seem right to me.
But I’ve been thinkin’, too, that it could just be that we go about this whole business of callin’ a pastor with some bad ideas about God. For instance, out of all the preachers in the whole world, is there just one that God is callin’ to a church at that particular time?
And of all the churches around, is God only leadin’ a preacher to one?
Seems to me that puts on enough pressure to tie your insides up real good. But, that’s how we talk. A pulpit committee says, “We are seekin’ the individual God is callin’ to our church,” like there is only one. Now, the Presbyterians, who go in big for everything bein’ predestined might ought to believe that, but most Baptists don’t hold to such notions.
I wonder if there might be a whole passel of preachers who might do a right fine job in any number of churches. If this could be true, then I guess they just need to be more particular about who they marry, don’t you know.
Well, I’m an old woman and what do I know? Only this. Churches and pastors need to get along, ‘cause if we get church wrong, we can’t get much else right.
I’ve got to run for now, but come see us when you can.
Love, Aunt Ida