The Bulletin
of the
Church of Christ at
New Georgia
Tim Johnson, editor
September 1, 2002
In
This Issue:
Of
Dogs and People
By
Steve Klein
Her
Hat on a Nail
By
Jack L. Holt
Of Dogs and People
While pigs may see people as equals, dogs truly look up to us. My dog, Feisty, is a good example. Mind you, she is a pretty intelligent dog. She comes when she's called, obeys when she's told to go to her pen, and skillfully hunts the rats and rabbits living in the field behind our house. She barks very little, and never without reason. With all of this going for her, why would she looked up to me?
Feisty has observed me from the time she was a puppy and has concluded that I am a superior being. What other conclusion could she reach? I built her house. I give her food. I drive away in a car to what she must think is the great beyond, and come back with bags of food and all sorts of interesting smells on the car and me. I make cold water appear magically from the garden hose (this really fascinates her). In her eyes, I'm virtually supernatural.
I'm told that the reason a dog will lie on its back and expose its underside, inviting you to rub its belly, is to signal that it is submitting to you. You are the top dog. Similar canine behavior is seen in packs of wolves, coyotes and wild dogs, and reveals the hierarchy within the pack and which animal is the leader of the pack. Now the thing about Feisty is that she wants every human she meets to rub her belly. She thinks all humans are better than she is!
Feisty looks up to me. But I'm not sure that she should. She is a better dog than I am a human being.
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I do not always come when the Master calls. But I should. "For to this you were called, because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that you should follow His steps" -- 1 Peter 2:21
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I bark for no good reason. But I shouldn't. "Do all things without complaining&ldots;" -- Philippians 2:14. "Let your gentleness be known to all men." -- Philippians 4:5.
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I do not always obey the Master. But I ought to. "You shall walk after the LORD your God and fear Him, and keep His commandments and obey His voice&ldots;" -- Deuteronomy 13:4.
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I do not always show submissiveness to my Master and others. "All of you be submissive to one another, and be clothed with humility" -- 1 Peter 5:5.
Yes, dogs look up to us. But each of us could probably learn a lot from a faithful dog.
-- by Steve Klein
It was a warm lazy Sunday afternoon the first time I saw her. I was sitting on a pine plank church bench waiting for the services to begin when I looked out the front door and saw her walking across the churchyard. She shaded her eyes with a cardboard fan as she passed through sunny patches between huge oaks.
Beneath her hat white hair reflected the rays of the sun. Age gave dignity to her slow walk; she bore gracefully the burden of years. She steadied her walk with a knobby cane. At the church steps she paused, looked briefly across the nearby cotton fields, then firmly took the steps into the building.
She took in the whole congregation with one look and nodded to all. She put her cane and fan on a pew; removed her hat, walked to the wall and hung her hat on a nail.
I went over and introduced myself. She firmly shook my hand and said, "Well, preacher, I've come a long way to hear some good preaching."
I looked into a pair of young and dancing eyes that lit up a face wise with years, molded firm with character, and said, "Well, I've come a long ways to do some good preaching." She turned away chuckling, to find her pew. We were friends from then on.
I preached often at that place and many times I saw her hang her hat on a nail. We often repeated the saying "She came to hear good preaching; I came to give it."
Years skipped away and I went from there to other fields of labor. Sometime ago I returned to preach a week's meeting. The building was modernized; new faces filled the room. I sat in an unfamiliar factory made pew. I could see the churchyard only partially through a side window. The huge oaks still stood shading the men talking and waiting for the "bell song".
I caught myself looking for a familiar figure. But I knew she was gone. I looked at the new sheetrock wall . . . and the nail was pulled. In the chambers of imagery I could picture the past and see her hang her hat on the nail. I listened to a far away voice ..."I expect to hear some good preaching today", and I caught myself mumbling, "I came to give it" ...
I thought of her coming to the portals of glory: "Come in," said the Lord. Then motioning to a jasper wall he said, "Hang your hat on that golden nail". She nodded and said, "Lord I've come a long ways to find peace and rest." "I came to prepare it," He said.
Years have passed but the power and charm of a simple, warm child of God lingers. And when I think of people like her I thank God he has enriched my life, filling it with such "little incidents, dear people, and precious memories." May we all be wise to see the riches God has for His children.
-by Jack L. Holt, via The Beacon, August 28, 2002