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Chapter 16. The One Saint Church

February 3, 2010

The One Saint Church*

The 35 ft park model trailer was parked behind the church. The small building did little to conceal the fact that the new pastor and his family lived there.

Seven people living in the trailer made privacy very important. Two of the children were teenagers and one was twelve. A bunk bed with pull curtains actually created small bedrooms and personal spaces.

The building was quite nice. There was a belfry and everything. It was paid for, and that was sure a blessing. No one remembered how long for sure the building had been there or when the Pentecostals had come to town. Evidently, the years had not been kind to the church.

The congregation was down to one. Sister Bonds was the only member. She had prayed for God to send her a pastor for the church. A middle-aged preacher accepted the invitation. The election for the new pastor was held. District officials oversaw over the proceedings. The new pastor was voted in with 100% approval.

The church was is need of some cleaning after sitting empty for a while. The pastor’s kids couldn’t resist the temptation to ring the church bell. It made the neighbors turn and look towards the building.

The pastor and his 16yr. old son began cleaning the men’s bathroom. The boy scrubbed a stool in one of the stalls as his father began cleaning the other. Talking through the metal walls dividers, the father said, “Son would like to get your D.D. some day?”

“D.D.?” asked the son.

“Doctorate of Divinity,” came the reply.

“Sure. How do you get it?” asked the boy.

“First you’re “D” janitor, and den you’re “D” pastor”, said his Dad.

They both chuckled. This was God’s house. It was not considered a chore to do whatever had to be done.

An old marching band drum was purchased from the pawn shop. It was big. The pastor thought it might be good to have a drum in church. No one had every beat on a marching band drum before. That didn’t seem to be a deterrent however. That and an old upright piano provided the music.

The pastor had to preach out a bit, trying to supplement his income until the church grew. The pastor’s wife, her children, and Sis. Bonds, started knocking on doors. Visitors started coming to church. When the new pastor was gone, guest ministers from nearby churches came over and preached to the small congregation. Quite a few got the Holy Ghost. When the pastor came back home after several weeks, a tiny choir had already been started. Almost 20 were in church, or at least coming to church.

The pastor’s son beat on the “marching band” drum with a drum stick that looked more like a mallet. One Sunday night, during a few moments of boredom during a testimony service, he stuck the little finger of his left hand in the drum’s air hole. A little push and it went right in. But when he tried to pull it out… that’s when the problem started. It was stuck. He motioned to his father, and they both walked out the back door, drum and all. He felt like a retard and it showed.

The son waited for the father to go into the trailer and get some liquid Ivory soap to pour on his finger. They twisted the finger left and right. Pulled and pushed. Nothing. they worked on it for several minutes and then gave up. They had to get back into the service.

In about 15 more minutes, it was time for the 8 voice “choir” to sing. The teen with the drum stood with the others on the platform. The drum hung from his left hand, about 6 inches from the floor. His stood in the back row on the left side. The crowd worshipped as the untrained voices sang. Somewhere in the second song the Ivory soap took effect, and dropped off the finger. It hit the floor and rolled forward. Momentum carried it till it reached the two steps in front of the platform. With loud clamor and distraction, it rolled down the center aisle. The pastor’s wife was the choir leader.  She stepped aside and let it roll past her. No one bothered to get it. They were having too good of a time praising the Lord.

Three of the teenage boys that came in those first weeks, received the Holy Ghost. They were later called into the ministry and all became pastors.

This Too Is Home Missions!

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Carlene permalink
    February 3, 2010 7:40 pm

    Oh how I love this story!!!! Love the memory of Sis Bonds & of ringing that bell – especially that first service. Precious memories….how they linger!

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