Journal Entry: 09/16/18
Preacher Man
He would be 95 if he were still living. My dad, the holy man. A preacher, a servant, and a Shepard of souls.
This picture is what he saw each Sunday morning from the lectern, or pulpit, as they called it. I was just trying to image what was going through his mind as he sat waiting to deliver his message, or sermon as it was referred to. I remember he begin preparing his sermons on Wednesday mornings. He would rise before dawn, sit at his desk and pray, read and write out a message he felt needed to be heard.
To save a soul? Perhaps. Maybe just to mend one that needed mending. It was his calling, his duty to tend to the needs of his flock. Add one more soul to heavens roll call I’m sure gave him ease. That was the objective measure of his labor. This could be seen. This lost soul would walk before the congregation and profess their new belief, and my dad would announce their salvation.
But what about all the other measures? The weddings he officiated, the births he blessed, the souls he lay to rest with the final word. Trips to hospitals each week to offer a prayer of health and a kneeling word of encouragement to the broken in spirit. Shepard one more that lost their way.
What could he have been thinking...as they closed The Baptist Hymnal and turned their attention to what he was about to say?
Still miss you preacher man...
As I still hear your words...
“Let us bow our heads and pray”.
Preacher Man
He would be 95 if he were still living. My dad, the holy man. A preacher, a servant, and a Shepard of souls.
This picture is what he saw each Sunday morning from the lectern, or pulpit, as they called it. I was just trying to image what was going through his mind as he sat waiting to deliver his message, or sermon as it was referred to. I remember he begin preparing his sermons on Wednesday mornings. He would rise before dawn, sit at his desk and pray, read and write out a message he felt needed to be heard.
To save a soul? Perhaps. Maybe just to mend one that needed mending. It was his calling, his duty to tend to the needs of his flock. Add one more soul to heavens roll call I’m sure gave him ease. That was the objective measure of his labor. This could be seen. This lost soul would walk before the congregation and profess their new belief, and my dad would announce their salvation.
But what about all the other measures? The weddings he officiated, the births he blessed, the souls he lay to rest with the final word. Trips to hospitals each week to offer a prayer of health and a kneeling word of encouragement to the broken in spirit. Shepard one more that lost their way.
What could he have been thinking...as they closed The Baptist Hymnal and turned their attention to what he was about to say?
Still miss you preacher man...
As I still hear your words...
“Let us bow our heads and pray”.
