Christian Living

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Salute the Saints
By Patricia Backora, author of the book
Tough Love in Christ's Millennium
Which you can order online from: http://www.publishamerica.com


Brother Peabody was the odd pea in the pod at Holy Hill Church. The aging army vet was as simple as a child, though he could read and write. He'd managed to get his G.E.D. in the service, but was sometimes stumped by King James English. But Pastor Preston discouraged the use of any other version of the Bible except the Old King James. There was ample reason to suspect that all other versions had been tampered with by New Age scholars, and it was better to stick with the tried and true version of God's Word in English.

Brother Peabody knew no better than to take what he read at face value. Few cared whether he could comprehend King James English. Some wondered if the weather-beaten fellow in the faded corduroy jacket understood much of anything. Brother Peabody had fallen on hard times, lost his home, his family, everything. His face was not so closely shaven as any of the other men's. He had a big red nose, a legacy from years of drowning his sorrows in cheap wine. But Jesus had set him free. His voice was as rough as sandpaper from months spent sleeping outside in all weathers. Brother Peabody got lots of smiles from the most talkative ladies of the church, but otherwise, he was hardly spoken to.

It was Wednesday night testimony time. Several saints stood up to testify about some new job promotion, or some new idea for attracting others to church. When Brother Peabody finally stood up to speak, a few groaned, others smiled and perked up their ears.

"Suffer the little children to come unto me," Brother Peabody began in his raspy voice. "For of such is the Kingdom of heaven. Seems like that fits me to a tee. I'm a big kid at heart. Wasn't till I suffered all the devil could throw at me that I got fed up with life and decided to give Jesus a try. Well, He dried me out and I've got a bed at the mission. Won't be long I'll be on the up and up, praise the Lord. A guy can catch his death of cold sleepin' under the Ridgemore Bridge under a makeshift tent."

A few said amen, most wished Brother Peabody would just sit down because there were visitors from a richer part of town attending tonight's service.

"Ah…" he continued, "here's a good Scripture I found last night: Philippians 4:21: Salute every saint in Christ Jesus. Guess what, folks. I wrote me a little poem about it. And it's just for you guys. So here goes:

The former army corporal stood stiffly to attention. He raised his hand to a 45-degree angle against his temple and began to read from a sheet of notebook paper.

Brother Preston, I'll start with you.
You show such special attention to me
When I collect my disability
And you can get a tithe out of me
For that I salute you.

Sister Lou Ann, I was feelin' blue
Till you dropped off that cold corn bread
And worn-out blankets for my bed
For that I salute you.

Brother Kenton, you keep the Golden Rule
You went with me once to go shoot pool
Who else would bother with a derelict fool?
For that I salute you.

Sister Sue, thanks for the stew
No meat was in it, too hard to chew
I've got more than one bad tooth
No sense in wastin' leftover stew juice
For that I salute you.

Tommy Smith, you're such a friend
You thought of me when you threw out old shoes
Thanks for buckin' the trend
And comin' by the mission for men.
For that I salute you.

Sister Doris, You love to smile
Every time I look at you
You wink and giggle just like a child
For that I salute you.

Brother Foley, you are so holy
I want to be just like you
You gave me cookies that weren't all moldy
For that I salute you.

Deacon Dave, how much you gave
When you decided to do a good deed
And see if you could meet a need.
You took a look for men down on their luck
Brought me back to eat at your potluck
What a generous church
They gave me a wide berth
When you brought me back
From the railroad track
While we were stuffin' ourselves with chicken
With all the yummy fixin's
Nobody would come near me but you
For that I salute you.

Deacon Dennis, I'm about to end this
But I haven't forgotten you
You didn't invite me to that dead shindig
There's nothin' there I would have missed.
For that I salute you.

Church, you're so sweet to someone like me
Why, I don't have a clue
I've got a pew reserved just for me
For that I salute you.

I do not subscribe to the Private Messenger Service. I can be contacted at:
[email protected] http://www.kingdomageministry.com

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