Dave said giving Bill a thumbs up. “He is a real asshole.” With that he went into his room and closed the door. Bill did the same but could not sleep worrying about what in the world he would preach about on Sunday.
-23-
Sunday came all too soon. If Bill could have something to do about it, he would have preferred several weeks before his first test. The way the system worked, the local congregation had the final say. In truth, all they had to do was convey to Mr. Scott that they did not like a particular student and Mr. Scott would just inform the student that he or she was not going back. This could happen at any time and gave an air of uncertainty to the process. The church evaluated the student-preacher and this evaluation along with the course in practical ministry determined one’s grade. The actual course lasted two semesters but most students remained in their student parishes or moved up to another situation during their seminary time. The experience was invaluable.
Bill left early in order to allow ample time to become lost. He traveled up I-35 to Denton, turned east, then north until he finally arrived at the small town of Murray. Murray was a community of about three hundred. There were two full-time ministers in the community. One minister was at the Assembly of God Church and the other at the Baptist Church. Mrs. Tyndale, a member of Bill’s church, would later say that in the early 1900’s, a tornado came through town. With her dry wit she would tell the story. “Yep, that tornado came down the street and took out the Methodist Church, hopped over the Baptist Church, and then took out the Christian Church.” Then after a pause she would reflect, “After that the Baptist Church just seemed to grow and grow!”
As Bill pulled up to the small brick church he saw a group of people waiting for him. As he got out of his car, Sam, an elder at the church, greeted him. Standing by Sam was Juanita his wife, Mrs. Tyndale, Sam’s brother Wilber and his wife Mary Lou, Bobby and Mary Ellen, Emily and Daniel known as “Buddy”, Mabel Simmons and Mary Pond. As they greeted Bill and showed him into the sanctuary, Sam warned him about the hole in the entrance floor. “Have to fix that one day,” Sam said as all the members stepped over the foot-and-a-half-wide hole in the floor.
The sanctuary had the smell of old. The wooden pews were in a semi-circular patter with a centered pulpit and an old piano that had seen better days off to one side. What Bill noticed was the beautiful stained glass windows. What he also noticed was that the pews were dusty except for fourteen round clean spots where people sat, week after week.
Emily was the pianist and she dutifully told Bill the hymns for Sunday. Everyone sat down. Bill walked to the front and thus began his first Sunday at the little church in Murray. He was dressed in his blue suit, white shirt, and tie, and he was quite a contrast to the rest of the congregation. Some were dressed in bib-overalls and others dressed in sports jackets that were from another era. His sermon that day was on the love of God, based on John 3:16.
Emily banged out the hymns, all of which, Bill noticed, had something about blood and death in them. He and Emily would later go to war about the choice of hymns. It would be the first of many battles during his ministry.
Sam and Juanita were obviously the leaders of the congregation. Sam worked for the county and Juanita was a homemaker. They had one strapping son, Bobby, who played tackle for Denton High School. Sam was sixty, medium height, but always carried a cheerful Texas grin. Bill would discover that Sam was a model of what an elder should be. He looked after the many widows in the congregation, fixing their plumbing, repairing their appliances, and taking them to the doctor in Denton. Sam was wise, gentle, and had a laid-back humor that Bill would come to love. His wife Juanita was still beautiful, even though she was only a
-23-
Sunday came all too soon. If Bill could have something to do about it, he would have preferred several weeks before his first test. The way the system worked, the local congregation had the final say. In truth, all they had to do was convey to Mr. Scott that they did not like a particular student and Mr. Scott would just inform the student that he or she was not going back. This could happen at any time and gave an air of uncertainty to the process. The church evaluated the student-preacher and this evaluation along with the course in practical ministry determined one’s grade. The actual course lasted two semesters but most students remained in their student parishes or moved up to another situation during their seminary time. The experience was invaluable.
Bill left early in order to allow ample time to become lost. He traveled up I-35 to Denton, turned east, then north until he finally arrived at the small town of Murray. Murray was a community of about three hundred. There were two full-time ministers in the community. One minister was at the Assembly of God Church and the other at the Baptist Church. Mrs. Tyndale, a member of Bill’s church, would later say that in the early 1900’s, a tornado came through town. With her dry wit she would tell the story. “Yep, that tornado came down the street and took out the Methodist Church, hopped over the Baptist Church, and then took out the Christian Church.” Then after a pause she would reflect, “After that the Baptist Church just seemed to grow and grow!”
As Bill pulled up to the small brick church he saw a group of people waiting for him. As he got out of his car, Sam, an elder at the church, greeted him. Standing by Sam was Juanita his wife, Mrs. Tyndale, Sam’s brother Wilber and his wife Mary Lou, Bobby and Mary Ellen, Emily and Daniel known as “Buddy”, Mabel Simmons and Mary Pond. As they greeted Bill and showed him into the sanctuary, Sam warned him about the hole in the entrance floor. “Have to fix that one day,” Sam said as all the members stepped over the foot-and-a-half-wide hole in the floor.
The sanctuary had the smell of old. The wooden pews were in a semi-circular patter with a centered pulpit and an old piano that had seen better days off to one side. What Bill noticed was the beautiful stained glass windows. What he also noticed was that the pews were dusty except for fourteen round clean spots where people sat, week after week.
Emily was the pianist and she dutifully told Bill the hymns for Sunday. Everyone sat down. Bill walked to the front and thus began his first Sunday at the little church in Murray. He was dressed in his blue suit, white shirt, and tie, and he was quite a contrast to the rest of the congregation. Some were dressed in bib-overalls and others dressed in sports jackets that were from another era. His sermon that day was on the love of God, based on John 3:16.
Emily banged out the hymns, all of which, Bill noticed, had something about blood and death in them. He and Emily would later go to war about the choice of hymns. It would be the first of many battles during his ministry.
Sam and Juanita were obviously the leaders of the congregation. Sam worked for the county and Juanita was a homemaker. They had one strapping son, Bobby, who played tackle for Denton High School. Sam was sixty, medium height, but always carried a cheerful Texas grin. Bill would discover that Sam was a model of what an elder should be. He looked after the many widows in the congregation, fixing their plumbing, repairing their appliances, and taking them to the doctor in Denton. Sam was wise, gentle, and had a laid-back humor that Bill would come to love. His wife Juanita was still beautiful, even though she was only a
Similar Books
