One of the reasons Satan does so well winning souls is because he never spends time on those he already has. Even now, he is continuously sifting the righteous to determine if they may be weak and susceptible to his vain promises. Indeed, he may appear to be an angel of light and sometimes he is even able to deceive those that are pillars in the church. Just as Jeroboam led the nation of Israel in sin (by causing them to worship idols), leaders in a church may be the foundation for Satan to build on, thus making them prime targets for him. Satan tells his minions, "go get me a Christian and I have one soul, recruit me a church leader and I will be in a position to win many souls".
Long before the invention of the airplane or automobile, Satan was sifting another preacher with little evidence of success, so he decided to use stronger tactics. It appeared that the Lord gave Satan leeway to intrude on the preacher's life. Much like Job, Satan begin to tear at his very existence by striking at his weakest point.
The Preacher could not see the hand of Satan as it struck, he only knew that his wife was dying. On that fateful night, he felt helpless and could do nothing but watch and pray while his wife lay struggling on her deathbed. The Preacher did not see Satan inter his home, hear footsteps on the plain wood floor, nor see the shadow of the hand that struck down his wife at one in the night. He did hear the rattle of the windows as the north Georga wind forced the nearly frozen rain drops against them, mimicking the sound of a hundred chicks pecking on a piece of paper.
Even with family and friends present in the same room, a death watch consists of hours of solitary thought. As the preacher's mind wondered through the hills, around the earth, and into the universe he realized it was only the warmth of circulating life within his vessels that was now separating him from his wife. Stepping out of the house into the pitch black Georgia night he could feel the cold December rain driving the chill of death into his very soul and instantly remembered he had not put on his coat.
The preacher would ever remember this night in both this life and the life to come. Dec. 13, 1888 was a date seared into his mind as the cold icy rain continued pelting down on this small town near the north Ga. Border. He believed the lashing raindrops would keep the memory of his wife's dying face in his mind forever, but he saw no fear in her angelic expression. He was the one that was afraid and he shivered in the night. Not from the cold rain, but from the knowledge of how continuously close we all are to death every moment of our lives. He raised his face and peered into the pitch black of the night sky letting the cryatal rain drops sting his face until it became completely numb,,,,But found no sign from God.
Juanita and Mrs. Stewart were there, when his wife died, and obliged themselves to remain the whole night through and in the morning, with the help of some of the old women from town, they prepared his wife for Burying. "I thank my God always for these wonderful people", whispered the Preacher under his breath. A private recomendation and he hoped God was listening.
At two in the afternoon on the same day, the wind driven rain still felt as though every drop would break the skin while the temperature continued to Hover around the freezing mark. Leroy, Daryl, CH, and Cousin William carried the casket down the street to the little cemetery on the edge of town. Old man turner, who was the closet thing they had to an undertaker, and his son Garlen, dug the grave and had it ready for them when they got there. Mr. Liticker, although he was not a carpenter, had made a beautiful cross for the grave, and even put her name on it.
Raymond and Mrs. Roller, along with a few other friends, followed the casket all the way to the burial but most of the town's people stayed home because of the wind, the cold, and the rain. Preacher Ready said a few words over her body, but decided the weather was too intense for Inez to sing a hymn, so everybody, tilting their covered heads as a break against the driving rain, left the soggy cemetery and returned to their daily routines.
Only the Preacher remained at the hastily covered grave that was marked only with a new cross and a single bouquet of dried flowers. He was sitting in the freezing mud, rocking back and forth, lost in his private thoughts, mourning his loss, and looking for an explanation. He was searching his soul believing that he must have been somehow responsible; maybe even an unknown sin had caused his wife to be taken from him and bringing to him all this misery.
He wept.
Just before dark, P.D. Lintz and Lucile came back to the cemetery finding the Preacher still sitting on the ground half frozen. Hypothermia, beginning to do its work and sitting into his joints, was making it almost impossible for him to move his limbs so picking him up and taking him home turned out to be quite a chore. When they arrived at the preacher's small three-room house, P.D. retrieved some wet wood from the top of the rink and a can of coal oil that was behind the wood box and built a fire in the old cook stove while Lucile made the preacher change into something dry.
Although being warm and dry did wonders for the physical body, it could do nothing to revive his spirit. Raymond and Mrs. Roller stopped in for a while to make sure everything was alright then they all left together leaving the Preacher alone to carry his own burden, weighed down with his loss, his loneliness, and his sorrow.
The darkness was unchanging and absolute. The rain continued to pelt the roof of the house and the winter wind howled as it streaked past the eaves over his bedroom window. Time was nonexistent for the Preacher and the darkness may have lasted for seconds, minutes, or hours before he finally drifted off into a restless sleep.
The winter storm refused to subside as the Preacher plodded along the slick muddy trail on his way to an unknown rendezvous that would take place several hours to the east of his home. With his cape wrapped tightly around him against the winter rain, his hat brim pulled down almost covering his entire face, both the horse and he moved as though they were in slow motion. The despairing misery expressed by his mount told him there was more than the weather on her mind. He knew she could feel the pain of his loss because her head, seemingly weighted down with thought, was drooping so low that it appeared her nose would often touch the ground on the down side of her gait, if one could consider the often jerky, slipping steps she was taking as anything related to a gait.
Her name was Maud and was a gift to the preacher, not because she was a worthy gift without blemish, but rather because she was too old to pull a plow or keep up with a partner working as a team. Her owner concluded that giving her to the Preacher would somehow be counted as righteousness unto him and that was a much better idea than selling her to the glue factory. Now, she was showing her age and was taking one slow step at a time, almost waiting in suspended animation for the Preacher to nudge her before taking another and through all this the cold wet wind caused her to tremble continuously. The preacher, lost in his thoughts and bearing his burden of loneliness, was not inclined to nudge her very often so it was in this manner they traveled along, ever so slowly, making not a sound, allowing the miles to drift sluggishly behind them.
Today was only one day after his wife died and he found himself on this deserted road because the word of God came to him in the night and it came suddenly, unexpectedly, and with great power. It was shut up inside him like a bomb ready to explode and although being weighted down in his sorrow, he was excited and ready to deliver his message to anyone who would listen. Without fully understanding this sudden surge in his inner drive, he saddled the roan and prepared to take his message on the road.
Although he left home only a few hours ago, it seemed like a lifetime. He hunkered down lower in the saddle as though it would help repel the fiery rain pelting his face, or warm his bones that seemed to rattle while his entire body shook. He had stopped by the cemetery in the early morning darkness and could vividly remember the flair of the match in front of the cross and how he could see the bold white letters, "N O R M A", for only a second before the wind caught the flame and carried it away leaving nothing but black, and cold, and rain. That one second was enough to fill him with memories for a lifetime. Although they were heavy, almost unbearable, he knew that in the future delightful images of Norma flashing through his mind, like an elusive butterfly fluttering through a flower garden, would make him smile, and comfort him all the days of his life, but that notion could not console him now.
Even with that idea hard on his mind the thought still came to him to just get off his horse, lie on the ground, and die in his sorrow. He realized how foolish that would be as he remembered that God's servant Job, in all his misery, considered his wife's suggestion to curse God and die, as only a foolish suggestion. If Job could withstand Satan so could he and if he could find the energy to move he would shake his fist at the devil and denounce every lie he had ever told,,,, but alas, the will power to move could not be summoned up so he continued to ride as a silent unmoving shadow in the early morning twilight. ----- He did not know how many miles he rode as that same thought continued to roll through his mind.
----- But then; The very thought of shaking his fist at Satan drew the slightest of twitches at the corner of his mouth much like the beginning of, but not quite developing into, a smile. His strength of mind could not force his muscles to respond so the smile did not live but withered in his thoughts. With his present situation seemingly worse than he ever imagined life might be, he could no longer recall the message nor the drive that caught him up in the middle of the night. Together, he and Maud slowly picked their way down the road that was so deeply rutted Maud had to labor hard just to maintain her balance, while the Preacher was desperately trying to develop his own message to replace the one he could no longer remember.
Being alone was something the preacher never took a liken to but adding this winter rain to his misery made his burden weigh heavy on his mind. His solitude and loneliness may be a blessing but the eerie silence of his surroundings was like being abandoned in the deepest abyss, while his tears seemed wasted as they were diluted by the wind driven rain; yet he remained persuaded that God had called.
Then!! To his astonishment,,,, a song made its way into his heart.
Maud almost stopped in mid stride as she felt, more than heard, the Preacher say something, or maybe his thought somehow set off an alarm in her mind. It must have been one of these events that brought her awareness up a level or she would never have heard his attempt to voice the song. He made a verbal attempt at the song without moving his lips because he was afraid if he did the cold would somehow get inside him and he would die; yet in one instant the song had become his hope and would not be denied. He realized the sounds he made had no meaning yet he grunted his thoughts almost aloud.
"There'll be no sor--row there,
No more bur-dens to bear"
A slightest spark seemed to be kindled somewhere inside the Preacher in anticipation of the song's promises and he raised his eyes just a bit. He suspected Maud may have raised her head a tad at the sound of his voice. For just a second he thought he felt a tinge of courage, felt the spirit stir within; And then, Just a little louder he sang, Could he call it singing or was it just nonsensical sounds? Although no one else could recognize the words he sang they had special meaning at this time in his life and they promised him;
"There'll be no sor--row there
No more bur-dens to bear,
No more sickness
No more pain,
No more par-ting over there.
Ever so slowly, the Preacher raised his head almost in unison with Maud and he noticed the wind was not quite as strong as before. He wondered if Maud could be thinking the same thought or if horses concerned themselves about the weather. Whether she was or not, was not a long lived debate but hope began to grow within him and without thinking he heard himself stating more to himself than to Maud, "My hope is in the Lord, blessed be the name of the Lord."
Recalling all the things that happened to him in the last twenty four hours he could not shake that old song that listed them all and then declaring victory through his heavenly hope, Moreover, in a voice rough and out of tune he did what he would never dare do in church because of his inability to carry a tune, but out here he could,,,, Sing out loud.
"There'll be no sor--row there
No more bur-dens to bear
No more sickness no more pain
No more par-ting over there.
And for-e--ver I will be
With the one who died for me
What a day,
Glorious day, that will be".
He was startled at how loud he was singing and all of a sudden became alert to his surroundings. Maud's head was now high in front of him and the weather was now changing to something much more pleasant. He had not noticed but while he was singing, the rain had completely stopped and the wind had somewhat subsided so he sat up straight in the saddle and raised the brim of his hat to the top of his head and looked all around. This time, as he looked around, he smiled a full show your teeth smile and began to sing as loud as he could.
"What a day that will be
When my Savior I shall see.
And I look upon His face
The one who saved me by His grace
And when He takes me by the hand"
Leads me through------
As though they heard the same thing at the same time, both the Preacher and the horse froze in mid stride and in complete silence they listened. The Preacher thought he heard an echo but it seemed different somehow, and the wind had shifted so he heard it no more. He asked Maud aloud, "Can a man hear the angels sing?" Both the Preacher and Maud began to have more spirit of heart as they continued down the trail, with the Preacher sitting a little straighter in the saddle and Maud stepping just a little bit higher. The sun had appeared in the sky and the day would surely turn out fair and warm after seemingly an eternity of winter's harshest breath.
Maud was now holding her head high in pride thinking she must surely be the most blessed animal in the world. The preacher had dismounted and wiped off the saddle and was wiping the water and mud from Maud's coat. Did she hear someone say, "Beautiful are the feet that carries the good news of the gospel" and she was indeed taking the Preacher to a meeting that only God could have set up. No man could have revealed that to her, but if God could talk to Balaam's mule He could surely give her knowledge of such things. As he saddled and boarded her the preacher raised a brow in wonder as Maud raised her head just a little higher and her steps suddenly became sure and noble.
The children, after hearing something in the wind or maybe a song in the trees, were running from house to house saying, "The Preacher is coming, The Preacher is coming". When asked why they thought The Preacher was coming they would reply, "I don't know, he just is." Moms, both in the valleys and on the ridges, without knowing why, were all humming and singing the very same song. Without even thinking about it, and at the same time, they were all wrapping up the babies and grabbing the old ladies because they all had an urge to go into town.
All throughout that small section of hill country of eastern Ga. there was an exodus toward a small town that had nothing that should draw a crowd and seemingly no reason for a group of people to be there. Cabin fever may have reached epidemic proportions since the winter storm had lasted almost a week and today the afternoon sun would warm up both the body and soul. Everyone needed to get out of the house.
So it was that on that December day people just kept coming into that small town until they filled both sides of the street. They were standing on the boardwalk in front of the shops because the street was almost knee deep in water and mud from the days of winter rain. They filled the boardwalk in front of the hardware store, the mercantile, and even the local beer joint while they waited for something to happen, not really knowing what. However while they waited many were humming while others were singing out loud that old song that had so many promises;
What a day that will be
When my Savior I shall see
The Preacher, without knowing why, knew he was close to his destination so he took his Bible out of his worn saddlebags and was carrying it in his hand when he topped a rise in the road. He was so surprised at what he saw that he gave a shout and jerked the reins so hard that Maud came to sudden stop. Because her foot slipped in the mud, to keep from falling, she had to do a little 'get your footing' dance that just seemed to continue as the Preacher smiled and waved to the crowd waiting by the street.
The 120 people that were there that day were lined up on the boardwalks and now all were facing his way. To his astonishment they were singing the exact same song he had been singing all day, and the saints were smiling and holding their hands high while they sang; and he without embarrassment joined in;
"What a day that will be
When my savior I shall see
When I look upon His face
The one who saved me by His grace
When he takes me by the hand
And leads me through the Promised Land
What a day, glorious day that will be."
It may be a coincidence that 120 people were in the room to hear Peter preach on the day of Pentecost, and there were 120 people gathered to hear the Preacher on this glorious day. Then, it may be God using familiar numbers over again as He often used them in the past. You know. Numbers out of the Bible, like, 3, 12, 40, 70 etc. Whichever it may be, all these people saw the same thing, telling the same story, and realized the same experience.
The Preacher and his horse suddenly appeared on the rise, his cape blowing in the soft afternoon breeze giving the impression that he just might be flying. The sun was at their backs creating a silhouette of what looked similar to a royal king mounted on a mighty steed. The sun reflecting off the slick worn leather of the Preacher's Bible caused a sunbeam to shoot high into the air giving the appearance that he was holding a mighty sword which had a gleaming blade reaching all the way to heaven.
The afternoon sun sliding off Maud's bright red coat caused the unbelievable effect that she was indeed a fiery mount who was anointed by the hand of The Most High God Himself. There have been many discussions as to whether this was an angel from heaven riding on one of God's heavenly steeds or a trick of the day creating only an elusion of splendor.
The Preacher never questioned the moment or why all those people were there and looking directly at him, and he never came down the street nor did he dismount, instead he delivered his message (the one that was lost but now returned with vivid detail) right there from the back of Maud. His voice boomed like thunder while he preached from one side of the road then the other, never faltering nor breaking. Although it was hard for him to believe old Maud could keep up that pace, she never missed a move. She was cutting, turning, and darting as though to put an exclamation point on every word the Preacher spoke. Her moves were in perfect anticipation to amplify his every word, whether he was shaking his fist at the devil ( which he could now do) or giving glory to the most high God. Later, the stories, or legends as some called them, would tell of that day and how the horse preached as hard as the Preacher.
Some said it was a sermon on holiness. Others said he was preaching fire and brimstone, yet they all agreed that the message was Jesus Christ and His return. It made no difference whether he was sitting in the saddle or standing in the stirrups, every word of the message made cold chills run up and down their backs and hair stand up on the knap of their necks. There was never any doubt that this message, although delivered by the Preacher in the Georgia mud, was actually orchestrated in heaven.
The effect of the sermon being expressed in every face and every action of every member of the congregation was a testament to the impact it had on the listeners. All the young girls covered their faces in shame, when they understood that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and while they understood outward beauty, God was looking for inward beauty. And tears ran freely.
There were seventy men present , some hard as nails, but all were either on their knees on the boardwalk or flat on their faces in the cold wet street crying before the Lord because they now understood they were only children in the eyes of God and there was no might nor wisdom to be found amongst them.
All the old women dropped their heads in shame because they had sometimes forgotten to give thanks for, and share, all that God had given them, especially His love. Yes, there was 120 souls that somehow felt the breath of God as it whispered salvation through out the village.
And to their shame, all had almost forsaken the little church that sit in the shadows of a huge oak tree.
The Preacher ended his sermon with a prayer, and for the first time he dismounted from the back of his ride. Although he knelt and bowed his head as to utter a private oblation unto the Lord, every ear, both man and beast, heard every word of his prayer. While he prayed not a person nor horse, nor bird, nor dog in the street moved a single muscle. The sound of shuffling feet could not be detected, and the afternoon breeze had become completely silent until the preacher was done. It was as though he entire world, and nature were waiting upon the Preacher.
Then the Preacher mounted and without a word, turned and left the same way he come; his sword elevated above his head, his mount with her head held high and dancing as though the Lord Himself was on her back, they left a song in the minds and hearts of all the saints.
"What a day that will be
When my savior I shall see."
The people stood motionless and speechless for about half an hour just staring in the direction the Preacher came and went, then turning without a word, nor even looking at each other and if they did catch someone's eye they only smiled, nodded, and returned to their own homes. Some would make their way to the wood shed, others wondering off into the woods, and mutterings could be heard under the breath of those doing chores. But on that day every soul in that small part of Georgia was in touch with God.
As long as this generation lived they remembered and talked about "the day of the Preacher and his dancing horse". Although there were no physical healings, lighting and thunder in the air, nor any great sign in Heaven, the hand of God touched every soul there and the seventy men that were present that day went forth to preach the good news of the gospel much like the seventy disciples Jesus sent out to preach of His coming.
The Preacher?
Well every stranger that passed through this town was asked the same question by everyone they met. "Have you heard of such a man"? There were rumors that he had preached up in Tennessee, and some said he was in the Carolinas, and there was an old man who came through town in early spring saying he heard of such a man preaching over in Arkansas, but the Preacher never returned to this small town in Ga. however he left them with a better hope of a greater return.
"I go to prepare a place for you
And if I go and prepare a place
For you, I will come again and
receive you unto myself, that
where I am, there ye may be also."
(Jesus)
A new minister rode into town late Saturday night, moved his stuff into the room behind the deserted church and since it was almost daylight he just stayed up and waited for Sunday morning. He came there because he heard there was an old abandoned church house in this community, they needed a preacher, and the hand of God had ushered him to this spot.
He also heard that almost no one would come to church and that was the reason the old pastor left, so he didn't expect anyone to show up that Sunday morning, especially since no one knew he was there.
They just kept coming. The ladies busily dusted the long deserted pews before they sit down. They just stared at the podium as though they were waiting for the preacher. Soon the church house was full but they just kept coming until they were forced to stand in the isle eventually overflowing into the street. The new preacher turned his eyes toward heaven and in wonder said, "Thank you Lord" and counted. There were 120 saints there that Sunday morning?
And he had no sermon for them,
But they had a song for him.
And they sang;
And to their shame, all had almost forsaken the little church that sit in the shadows of a huge oak tree.
The Preacher ended his sermon with a prayer, and for the first time he dismounted from the back of his ride. Although he knelt and bowed his head as to utter a private oblation unto the Lord, every ear, both man and beast, heard every word of his prayer. While he prayed not a person nor horse, nor bird, nor dog in the street moved a single muscle. The sound of shuffling feet could not be detected, and the afternoon breeze had become completely silent until the preacher was done. It was as though he entire world, and nature were waiting upon the Preacher.
Then the Preacher mounted and without a word, turned and left the same way he come; his sword elevated above his head, his mount with her head held high and dancing as though the Lord Himself was on her back, they left a song in the minds and hearts of all the saints.
"What a day that will be
When my savior I shall see."
The people stood motionless and speechless for about half an hour just staring in the direction the Preacher came and went, then turning without a word, nor even looking at each other and if they did catch someone's eye they only smiled, nodded, and returned to their own homes. Some would make their way to the wood shed, others wondering off into the woods, and mutterings could be heard under the breath of those doing chores. But on that day every soul in that small part of Georgia was in touch with God.
As long as this generation lived they remembered and talked about "the day of the Preacher and his dancing horse". Although there were no physical healings, lighting and thunder in the air, nor any great sign in Heaven, the hand of God touched every soul there and the seventy men that were present that day went forth to preach the good news of the gospel much like the seventy disciples Jesus sent out to preach of His coming.
The Preacher?
Well every stranger that passed through this town was asked the same question by everyone they met. "Have you heard of such a man"? There were rumors that he had preached up in Tennessee, and some said he was in the Carolinas, and there was an old man who came through town in early spring saying he heard of such a man preaching over in Arkansas, but the Preacher never returned to this small town in Ga. however he left them with a better hope of a greater return.
"I go to prepare a place for you
And if I go and prepare a place
For you, I will come again and
receive you unto myself, that
where I am, there ye may be also."
(Jesus)
A new minister rode into town late Saturday night, moved his stuff into the room behind the deserted church and since it was almost daylight he just stayed up and waited for Sunday morning. He came there because he heard there was an old abandoned church house in this community, they needed a preacher, and the hand of God had ushered him to this spot.
He also heard that almost no one would come to church and that was the reason the old pastor left, so he didn't expect anyone to show up that Sunday morning, especially since no one knew he was there.
They just kept coming. The ladies busily dusted the long deserted pews before they sit down. They just stared at the podium as though they were waiting for the preacher. Soon the church house was full but they just kept coming until they were forced to stand in the isle eventually overflowing into the street. The new preacher turned his eyes toward heaven and in wonder said, "Thank you Lord" and counted. There were 120 saints there that Sunday morning?
And he had no sermon for them,
But they had a song for him.
And they sang;
" What a day that will be,
When my Savior I shall see.
And I look upon His face
The one who saved me by His grace.
And when He takes me by the hand,
And leads me through the promised land,
What a day, glorious day that will be."
Mickey McClanahan
Nov. 15, 2005
