The Messenger
Stories
56 Stories For Preaching
They were proud of their church. "Proud as punch!" they always
said. "The True Gospel Church is the finest church in the whole
state," Rev. Carton declared on more than one occasion, and he
didn't need prompting to declare it.
But Rev. Carton died suddenly, and that was that. He had been
pastor of the flock longer than anyone could remember. When he
"passed on" at the age of 87, there was no ordained person to
preside over his funeral so the elders elected Brother Roberts to
say a few appropriate words by the grave side.
Among those at the cemetery was a Black man, Willi Brown. He
had hopped off the freight train as it rambled through town. He
approached Brother Roberts after the service and said to him:
"So you lost your preacher, huh?"
"Yes, my friend. What's it to you?"
"I'm a preacher, and I believe the Lord kicked me off that
train just so I could come and take over Brother Carton's flock."
"How can you be a preacher? You're a hobo."
"Don't knock me till you've heard me, Brother."
"I'll have to take it up with the Board of Elders."
Willi Brown put himself to work around the True Gospel Church.
He mowed the lawn, he mopped the floors, he dusted the pews, and
he even tuned the piano. Widow Johnson gave him his "vittles"
that first day and let him sleep in her tool shed that night.
True to his word, Brother Roberts brought up the matter of Willi
Brown at the Board of Elders meeting. He was Willi's best
advocate with an overpowering argument:
"We don't have any choice. There's nobody in town who can
preach. Let's see how he does on Sunday and go from there."
Willi gave a fine sermon that first Sunday and was hired. But
the sermons he gave in each succeeding Sunday were more and more
disturbing. He was bringing a message of repentance and that,
next to his shabby appearance, led to a great deal of criticism.
They offered to buy him "a real nice suit," but he said, "It
doesn't matter what a man wears if his soul isn't in tatters. Did
Jesus go around in a real nice suit?" It was not long before
Willi's color also became a point of issue and people started
using the N-word. For many in this rural town it was their first
encounter with anyone of color. Church attendance dropped off
sharply and suddenly. Vern the grocer claimed that Willi "just
ain't comfortin' the way Rev. Carton was."
Finally, the time came for Willi's last sermon. "I'm leaving
you," he said, "because I've done my work. I guess I disturbed a
few folks so I want you all to think of me as John the Baptist, a
voice crying in the wilderness, preparing the way for one greater
than me. And how will you know him? He will come like a thief in
the night, and you will know him not."
Willi stepped down from the pulpit and walked head held high
down the aisle and out of the church. They never saw him again.
said. "The True Gospel Church is the finest church in the whole
state," Rev. Carton declared on more than one occasion, and he
didn't need prompting to declare it.
But Rev. Carton died suddenly, and that was that. He had been
pastor of the flock longer than anyone could remember. When he
"passed on" at the age of 87, there was no ordained person to
preside over his funeral so the elders elected Brother Roberts to
say a few appropriate words by the grave side.
Among those at the cemetery was a Black man, Willi Brown. He
had hopped off the freight train as it rambled through town. He
approached Brother Roberts after the service and said to him:
"So you lost your preacher, huh?"
"Yes, my friend. What's it to you?"
"I'm a preacher, and I believe the Lord kicked me off that
train just so I could come and take over Brother Carton's flock."
"How can you be a preacher? You're a hobo."
"Don't knock me till you've heard me, Brother."
"I'll have to take it up with the Board of Elders."
Willi Brown put himself to work around the True Gospel Church.
He mowed the lawn, he mopped the floors, he dusted the pews, and
he even tuned the piano. Widow Johnson gave him his "vittles"
that first day and let him sleep in her tool shed that night.
True to his word, Brother Roberts brought up the matter of Willi
Brown at the Board of Elders meeting. He was Willi's best
advocate with an overpowering argument:
"We don't have any choice. There's nobody in town who can
preach. Let's see how he does on Sunday and go from there."
Willi gave a fine sermon that first Sunday and was hired. But
the sermons he gave in each succeeding Sunday were more and more
disturbing. He was bringing a message of repentance and that,
next to his shabby appearance, led to a great deal of criticism.
They offered to buy him "a real nice suit," but he said, "It
doesn't matter what a man wears if his soul isn't in tatters. Did
Jesus go around in a real nice suit?" It was not long before
Willi's color also became a point of issue and people started
using the N-word. For many in this rural town it was their first
encounter with anyone of color. Church attendance dropped off
sharply and suddenly. Vern the grocer claimed that Willi "just
ain't comfortin' the way Rev. Carton was."
Finally, the time came for Willi's last sermon. "I'm leaving
you," he said, "because I've done my work. I guess I disturbed a
few folks so I want you all to think of me as John the Baptist, a
voice crying in the wilderness, preparing the way for one greater
than me. And how will you know him? He will come like a thief in
the night, and you will know him not."
Willi stepped down from the pulpit and walked head held high
down the aisle and out of the church. They never saw him again.
