Provocations

By pbobby

In Trust the Creator a case is made for an intimate relation of humankind with God without religion or mythology. It assumes an evolutionary creation with early human beings struggling for physical survival and the stirring of a spiritual yearning for that which is greater than self. Let me hasten to add that pbobby makes no claims that this is the Creation which occurred and continues. I cannot make claims when I have no authority other than that which I grant to myself; I can only hypothesize in my head and heart, and reflect on my personal experiences.

This magnificent creation is of and from the eternal in which there is no beginning or ending. It seems probable to pbobby that The Eternal planted an Eternal Seed in his own Created Matter that infinitely flowers beyond our comprehension.

This perspective makes me stand in greater awe of the Creator's work than does the immediate creation of all things in the blink of an eye. I, therefore, trust the Creator for my daily existence in this unutterable mystery of which I am a part throughout eternity.

But on the other hand, whether one believes either creation theory, we still stand without a genuine relationship with the Creator without the symbols of mythologies and our religions.

It was through my upbringing in the Southern Baptist Church and through the teachings I received that I gained an image of God and a definitive way to relate with Him. These teachings gave me an anchor, guidelines and a way to live. But most of all, it was there in church that I came to believe that God loved me, and that so many in the church loved me too.

It was in Sunday School, that I was filled with wonder by the stories of the Old and New Testaments. Then I grew internally as a Sunbeam, singing delightful songs that gave me great happiness. More Growth came for me while I was a Royal Ambassador learning the books of the Bible, memorizing assigned scriptures and participating in "Sword Drills" (finding a scripture as fast as possible). All these activities made it easy for me to navigate the Bible and to grasp some of the theological themes of its writers.

The church, the Bible and my Mother caused my consciousness to grow in size and strength. I certainly learned right from wrong and felt safe within The Creator's salvation, which I experienced at age seven. My father's preaching taught a more comprehensive way to see God and his people and caused me to feel God's presence and love in my life. I wish I could remember all the stories he told about people showing their love and compassion for others. Where else could I have been taught such sensitivities?

He once told of an elderly gentleman of considerable wealth who was taking a stroll in downtown when he noticed a small boy sobbing and slumping. The man came close to the little boy and touched him on the shoulder and asked what was his reason for such sadness. The lad with halting words told him he had lost the family grocery money on the way to the store. "Let's see what we can do about that," said the man. He took the little boy shopping.

As they left the store, the young boy was carrying all the groceries he could handle; he set them down for a moment and looked up into his friend's eyes saying, "I wish you were my Daddy." It was reported that the elderly man walked the downtown streets for years searching for others he could help.

My father was a pure soul-preacher. You could see it in his demeanor, hear it in his voice and know it from looking into his eyes, that he loved people and Jesus with all his heart. He preached of God's love and the salvation for all who trusted in Jesus. He ministered to his flock like a mother hen. In their sorrows and in their joys he shared his heart. He told them of the peace in his heart while here on earth and the glories of heaven he felt heir to. This was the Creator's Amazing Grace as preached by Shelby R. Beaty.

He made a real difference in thousands of lives until he died in February of 1986. Even though I had left the pastorate at that time, I was moved to speak at his funeral in the depths of my grief and to read a poem God gave me for that occasion. You can read it from a prior issue in Pencil Stubs, entitled "Two Thousand Years Ago."

Two months before Daddy died at age eighty-one, he was trying to recover from the trauma of exploratory surgery for cancer. He was so full of cancer, which had begun in his pancreas, that the surgeon removed nothing - just closed him up. For weeks no one was sure he would survive. A few days after his surgery, he said to me, "Bobby this is so demeaning to live this way. I wish I could die." I responded, "Daddy, do you really want to die?" He told me, "yes, this is so undignified and I am ready to go home." I told him that this is what I wanted for him too.

In just a few seconds he lost consciousness and remained motionless for what seemed to be an eternity to me. I quietly leaned over his face and could not feel a breath. So I sat down and simply waited for him to die. Just as I thought he surely had died, a rigor jolted his body, his eyes opened and he lifted his head looking all around. After getting his bearings, he said, "Shucks! Bobby, I didn't make it."

This is the man that baptized me; that tutored me in the faith so that by the age of thirteen, I was teaching a Sunday School class. Earlier than most young lads, I knew what I wanted to do vocationally - be a minister just like my father. It seemed to me that this was just about the best thing to which I could dedicate my life.

I began to preach in various churches at age seventeen and by age eighteen was ordained as a result of a call to become Pastor of North Dixie Baptist Church in Tyler, Texas.

Later when I graduated from East Texas Baptist University, I accepted a call from The First Baptist Church of Brookport, Illinois just forty miles from the Marion Baptist Church of which my Father was then Pastor. Our fellowship over the next four years was more than enriching as we visited and also held revival meetings in each other's church.

I was fortunate enough to be a pastor of a church that was located just inside the Daylight Savings Time Zone, while the many large churches of Paducah, Kentucky, were still in "God's" time zone. This made possible many opportunities to first conduct services in Brookport, then drive across the Ohio River to substitute in churches there whose pastors were on vacation, or conducting revivals elsewhere.

As a result I was able to earn enough additional income from supplying and conducting revival meetings to feed my six children. God blessed my ministry with numerous conversions and a wondrous fellowship with some amazing Christians.

I also met and was blessed by a host of wonderful people of faith, filled with compassion. I would not take anything for my grand experiences in the church with the sacred souls.

Three things happened almost concurrently that contributed to my decision to leave the pastorate. One, you can read here in pencil Stubs an article entitled, "When Your Truth Falls to Pieces."

A second event involved an invitation to interview and to preach a trial sermon at a comparatively large church. The salary would make it possible for me to support my family comfortably and expose me to the challenge of a larger but no more important ministry.

The morning service of that visit was a hallowed experience for me. I felt that this was going to be a major turning point in the magnitude of my mission as a Baptist Minister.

In the afternoon after that glorious morning, the Chairman of the Board of Deacons conducted a one-man inquiry about my personal beliefs. His questions did not deal with core beliefs of Christianity. I knew almost instantly that this man ran the church. I don't remember the first two questions he asked, but I vividly remember the third. "Do you believe that is proper for women to pray publicly before the congregation?"

I was shocked by the pettiness of this question and after a I took a deep breath, I responded emphatically with a "Yes, I don't believe that women are subservient to men in God's eyes! Did not Jesus himself take time to talk to the Woman at the Well even though she was a Samaritan who had been married five times and was living with a sixth? Did Jesus not defend the woman who was caught in adultery, telling her to go and sin no more? (I have always wondered where the adulterous man was while the woman was being judged.) If women are acceptable for conversations with Jesus, I certainly have no problem with them praying in public."

Needless to say, I chose not to become pastor of that church. The chairman was quite pleased that we had come to an agreement on at least one thing. It seemed to me that this one man saw himself as owner of the church, and that all others were unwilling to challenge his authority. Have you ever noticed this phenomenon in any church you have attended?

Less than a month later the third contributing factor hit me like a sledgehammer. My wife and children had gone to visit my wife's mother for a week. Just before they were to begin their journey home, my wife called to tell me that she and our children were not coming back to Brookport. I will not discuss any of the details, but this meant that I had to leave my church and go to my family.

I was to pastor one more church for two years before I left the ministry. Regardless of this decision, I felt I had been true to my calling, and that without my life in the church, only God knows what my values would have been or how I could have possibly come to Trust the Creator.