How many times have I started with "Yesterday Was Nice"? If I was to do it right, I would have to say the same thing again. Yesterday was nice, but in order to be perfect another person would have been at our table. The Deacon was visibly absent. Oh, his reasons were more than valid. His mom had minor surgery three hours before our normal lunch time and he had a funeral an hour after we would normally begin, which brings me to some thoughts.
I know I make jokes about the late-night preachers selling their "Miracle Water" and "No Evil Oil" and I honestly believe the people I see hawking their brand of Christianity on TV are no more than con men sucking money from anyone weak enough to buy into their scam, but I also know both the Deacon and the Bishop. And, I have never heard either ask for personal gain or promise something they couldn't deliver in order to wretch a few coins from someone less fortunate.
No, I know the Deacon and the Bishop. I know them well. And, I know what they make and while neither has to worry about his check at Harris Teeter bouncing, I have never been blinded by the glare from either one's Rolex or lost my parking place to their Rolls Royce. No, what I know about both of them just doesn't fit my picture of the late-night con men. This is what gives me pause.
The two of them, the Deacon and the Bishop, shepherd over two of the largest congregations in Wilson and have a contact with every person in those congregations. For all intents and purposes, these people are their family and I have to wonder how I would feel, or react, to losing one or two family members a week. My mental picture is not pretty.
The Deacon's congregation is older and to put it simply, they're dropping like flies . Yet, he maintains. For this, I admire him. But, I have to wonder how?
The Deacon delivered a sermon a few weeks ago about how he is included in the best, and the worst, of his congregation's life. He is there to marry them, to baptize them... and he is there to bury them. This is indeed a fact. For most people in time of joy they call their pastor. In time of pain... they call their pastor. For this I must admire them. And, I do admire them for far more than just this. Time and time again I have seen both of them join with people, not of their denomination, to provide a kindness, a service.
While my late-night money hawkers would never entertain any idea that their way of believing isn't the only way, so many times I have seen both the Deacon and the Bishop reach beyond such silliness.
Yes, I admire them both. Would I admit this in public? Never!
Would I concede at our weekly lunches that either one of them are any more than small town Benny Henn's or Jim Bakker's groping for every farthing? Get real! So, let's just keep this between us.
