ON THE BANKS OF THE MISSISSIPPI
If ever you have a
chance to visit Caruthersville, Missouri, the queen town of the bootheel, be
sure to do so. You would also delight in meeting the disciples that gather at
917 Laurant St. They are what I call a "walk out" church, and I told
their story in the November 1973 issue of this journal. It is worth the
reading, for it tells of the only case on record of a Church of Christ
dissolving itself and then reinstating itself as a congregation on such basis
as to get rid of the "liberal" element. Believe it or not, it really
did happen. The preacher announced one Sunday morning that the congregation
then and there no longer existed. He then proceeded to reorganize on the basis
of a creed called an Affirmation, which all Members had to sign. It included a
law against attending sectarian churches and a statement on the sinfulness of
the instrument, which he knew the "liberals" would not sign. So they
didn't exactly walk out but were kicked out. What else can you expect from the bootheel of Missouri!
After three years they are
doing beautifully. Denver Fike, longtime mortician in the town and known far
and wide for his exemplary life, has gone home to be with the Lord. He gave
much of his life as a leader and builder of the old church, but he was to learn
that all that was for naught once he questioned some of the party gimmicks.
Newly‑installed ministers find ways to dispose of the old soldiers,
however noble their service has been, if they dare to step out of line by
asking questions one is not supposed to ask. People came far and wide to honor
Denver's life, from all sorts of churches, and some of them leaving donations
for the new congregation. If he was for it, it must be a good thing, they
figured.
They are unquestionably the
happiest, eatin'est, kissin'est group you'll ever meet. Odds are far in your
favor that you'll get hugged and fed and kissed if you go around them, hugged but
not likely bugged. It just shows what gettin' free will do to folk. While they
have "The Church of Christ" over the door, they really don't act much
like it, being all happy like that.
Hank Allan is their minister
to the community, and he is really something else, being about as typical a
"Church of Christ" preacher as a trip to the moon is a typical
journey. He knows virtually everyone in town and most of them on first name
basis. He is president, or soon will be, of both the Kiwanis Club and the Chamber
of Commerce. He is as involved in the problems of the town, the churches, and
the youth as a man could be. Where else do we have a man who is on call from
the police through his C. B. radio? As I rode along with him he explained,
while adjusting his radio, that the police sometimes call him in his car if
they can't get him at home or at the church building. This is when they have a
kid caught up in drugs and they know that old Hank can help out.
Hank knows the drugs and what
they'll do to you like a Harlem pusher. In talks to various clubs he tells the
parents and citizens of Caruthersville how severe the drug problem is and what
they should be doing about it. When he tells some of the preachers around,
including some of our own, that they have a drug problem among their youth,
they refuse to believe it.
Hank is
the kind of a guy who is willing to baptize someone even when he ends up
attending some other church. He knows how to relate to youth and he can
appropriate the resources that are in Jesus to their needs. When they turn to
the Lord, he rejoices, and is eager to immerse them into Christ, whether or not
they join his congregation. Sometimes the kids get into real trouble with the
hard stuff, and it takes the police and hospital staff and lots of time to pull
them out of it. It is a compliment to him that these young people will call
him, at any time of day or night, when they or some of their friends are in
trouble.
Our
brother has a rather simple view of ministry. He believes he should be doing
what Jesus did, helping people and teaching people, even if this means an
association with the less desirables of society. In judging what is "the
work of the church," he concludes that the Body of Christ today should be
doing what Jesus did in the days of his flesh. Whatever he did we can do and
should be doing, if we are truly his Body. And Hank doesn't suppose that he is
to feed people or help them kick the dope habit in order to make members of the
Church of Christ out of them.
I
recall when the church was thinking of bringing a man in to work with them.
They wanted a minister for the community, not one who would say sermons to
them. The Lord really blessed them with the right man. The Sunday I was there
he passed out copies of his worksheet, a report on his activities for the week,
which showed a work week of 57 hours. It provided an opportunity for me to
remind them that they too should be clocking some hours for the Lord. The man
they support might rightly be expected to do more than they, but they most
certainly should find some time to minister to folk as he is doing, if but a
few hours a week.
The
townspeople who are acquainted with the way Church of Christ preachers usually
stand aloof of civic and religious affairs can hardly believe that old Hank is
for real. He is part of the ministerial association and speaks now and again
at various churches on special occasions. They see him as an odd sort of Church
of Christ minister, but they love every minute of it and love him along with
it. But he really drives other "gospel preachers" in the area up the
wall with all those strange things he does. If they were all like Hank, I don't
think we'd have to bother about the pastor system.
The
ferry boat era has passed in Caruthersville and nearby Cottonwood, where our
brother Eric Taylor has been "a river rat" for 50 years. A new, 27‑million
dollar bridge now connects Caruthersville to Dyersburg, Tenn., so they recently
made the last ferry boat run, most on board were there for sentimental reasons.
A local artist did a sketch of the ferry which made the papers here and there,
announcing the end of an era (see front cover). One afternoon Eric and I went
down to where his ferries are docked and walked upon them, recalling 50 years
on the river. He told me that during the 1937 flood he took his ferry off the
Mississippi and went out across the countryside and down a major highway
rescuing people who were marooned by high water. He also recalled the time he
bore President Truman and his party across the river. But the boats are for
sale now. It is all over.
It reminded us that
bridgebuilding changes things, especially those bridges that we build for
Jesus, from one brother to another brother. There are Tennessee folk who seldom
if ever came over to Missouri and vice‑versa, for there was no bridge and
the ferry cost time and money. Now they dash to and from freely. So it is with
Jesus' divided people. Love, peace and joy build bridges. Isolation, suspicion
and resentment keep us separated. But those who build bridges sometimes cause
problems. It not only stops the ferry traffic but it may well put parties out
of business as well.