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As I sway back and forth in the old rocker here on the porch of the little cabin in the meadow, I find little beads of sweat starting their journey down my neck. Usually, there is a breeze coming up from the valley of the Greenbrier but the air has been still for the past two days. Yesterday I was musing that the sparrows were running further across the lawn to gain flight into the atmosphere. Yesterday, Saturday, was a record-breaking day for the temperature here in the almost Heaven Ballengee. Eighty-seven degrees forcing me to move the old rocker to a shaded portion of the porch. Saturday is the day that the little women churn the milk to make the butter to spread over the cornbread but the heat was so high that she declared that we could use some of the preserves from the cellar. As I stirred the air rocking back and forth in the rocker, I watched the sun peek over the East Ridge in all of its golden glory.
I know that the Lord was putting on another display of His magnificent glory to herald in this day, the first day of the week, the day to travel to His house to give Him praise for the blessings that He bestows. I was thinking that instead of putting on my heavy bib overalls and leather boots. I would search the closet for some slacks and loafers along with a dress shirt. I knew that inside of the Church the air would be still and the heat would become unbearable with fifteen or twenty ninety-eight degree bodies heating the air further. We have stained glass at the Church and I knew that Homer Massey and Johnny Crawford would be in a debate.
With the windows closed the stained glass would block the sun’s rays and not be so hot upon the folks that were in the pews. But if the windows were open what little breeze from the Greenbrier would be very welcome. I can see it all now as Homer is always the first to arrive opening the windows and Johnny coming in behind him closing the windows. I near wish to be there to see the argument between the two knowing that Brother Simms would have to settle it with a decision. Poor Brother Simms I thought as the little woman called out from the kitchen, “breakfast!”
I hadn’t expected that as I had not smelled the aroma of bacon frying on the stove, heard the scraping metal while the eggs were being turned, the stirring of the grits, and no sound of the toaster popping out the toast. This lack of sensation only excited me more to move into the dining area and explore the marvels of a piping hot country breakfast. As I and the children sat down at the table my better half come in with a pot full of oatmeal and strawberries. It was good, the strawberries were sweet, but it was not the breakfast that I had dreamed of for a Sunday morning.
The morning shadows were still tall as we filed down the path in the meadow. I would slow in the areas where the sun was beating down to not work up to that uncomfortable residue of sweat on the skin. Then I would slow when the tall oaks which were wide and providing shade covered the path. A slothful conservative the woman would shout back me at me adding that we were going to be late for Sunday school. See the Cardinals she said, they are going about their morning duties and getting their work done. I could not argue the point so I did the wise thing and just said hum. “My how the honeysuckle has flavored the meadow with its sweet aroma this morning.”
When we reached the hard road there was no shade as the direction had changed and the sun was climbing higher shortening the distance of the shade. With the new morning's sun taking a greater aim at our little convoy the little woman said I hope Homer hasn’t opened the windows and let all this warm air into the Church. I somehow in my foolishness took a different direction and said I hope Johnny has opened the windows. All the pews have fans and we do not need to let the sunlight in and bake us during the service was the reply. I somehow found myself in that imaginary debate I was having between Homer and Johnny while rocking on the porch. Those thoughts never came to a conclusion and I knew this actual debate would not have a satisfying answer either. So I changed the subject and said let us take our time and admire this beautiful creation about us that God has given us to enjoy. That worked until we got to the Church and saw the windows still shut. I felt as if Brother Simms had let me down.
Brother Simms and the men folk gathered in the rear of the Church for our class but the double doors of the Church were left open. Brother Simms mentioned that the back windows of the Church were also open in hopes that a breeze would come up from the Greenbrier. As Brother Simms was discussing his meditation on Matthew 5:3, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," I found myself listening to the sound of churning water rushing over the rocks in the Greenbrier. It was a nice backdrop to the discussion and reminded me of the power that God holds in His hand.
After Sunday school we all went out in hopes of some cooler air and wondering where Brother John could be. It is not like Brother John to be late and it is he that gives us the word most Sundays. As time drew near for the service even Brother Simms became fidgety. Then just in time came Brother John coming up the path from the hard road and our fears were relieved. If there was a saint’s saint, then it would have to be Brother John. Advanced in maturity is how we at the Church on the Knoll say it for a man who is an elder to us all. I don’t know any of the stories but if one in our flock has a life question or is going through a hard trial it is Brother John they would seek out for his wise thoughts.
There was a difference in Brother John’s appearance this Sunday. Brother John usually wore a skimmer hat, white shirt with a black bow tie, black knit trousers, and polished leather tie up shoes. This was his standard appearance for each Sunday that he attended. Now on one of the hottest Sundays Brother John was wearing a suit and tie. It was a pinstriped suit dark in color and a white shining silk tie. Never has any of us seen Brother John dressed that way. The little woman asked me if there was a funeral this Sunday. I didn’t think so but I replied that Brother John sure looked grand.
If there is an angel of the Church at the Church on the Knoll it most certainly is Brother John. As I have always said he is not a dynamic speaker but his insight into God’s word is always new and fresh teaching us more how we should live in the image of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. This week Brother John spoke on Psalm 51:17 which reads. "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise." (Psalm 51:17) It seemed that it would fit right in with our Sunday school lesson given to us by Brother Simms. But as I said Brother John went in a different direction than I was expecting.
At the conclusion of his message, he took a turn that I would never have expected a teacher of God’s Word to take. People, I think, when they view a teacher see him as the example they are to follow. Now we all know the foolishness of that, as there is only one example and that is the life of Jesus. But it is human nature to follow the best example we have. The Israelite people followed Moses. When I was in first grade the teacher could do no wrong and I believed everything that she taught me. We all have had role models in our lives as we pass along the way. It is our human nature to affix ourselves upon people that we hold high esteem for. As I said here at the Church on the Knoll Brother John is a saint’s saint. But we were surprised to hear of all the struggles that Brother John was going through. And some of the darker things that he had done in his life. He finished by saying that he was a broken man.
Brother John then took off his shoes and revealed tattered socks that his toes were showing through. He pulled out that shiny silk tie and the bottom of it was cut off. Brother John took off his pinstriped suit coat and his shirt was shredded to pieces. He took off his glasses and ran his fingers through where the lenses were supposed to be. Brother John looked at us all in his fatherly way and said, “I’ve made my point. From there Brother John walked out of the Church and the service was over.
Again I find myself moving to and fro in the old rocker here on the porch of my cabin in the meadow. I am still trying to pull the day together and I am at a loss. We all wear our mask but God knows. We smile at people while hiding our tears. When asked how our day has been we answer “Never been better.” When trouble comes into our lives we retreat behind closed doors that no one else will know we are having trouble. But God knows and He cares. Perhaps if we would take off the mask we wear the people who love and care for us would allow the love of God to shine through and they would give us what we need, their own experience with the same problems. But my fear is this that in our quiet times with our Lord, who knows, do we take off the mask? As I ponder these thoughts I realized God knows better than we what we are going through because He has been through it too and overcame. As I prepared to go into the cabin my Bible was open and I read this verse. "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. "Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." (Matthew 11:28-29)
Thomas N Kirkpatrick
Inspired By Jordan Rains Ballengee 02/28/2018
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