OL’ JEB AND PREACHER JONES
Submitted
by Bob Thompson
In the horse and buggy days of long
ago, there lived in the Cumberland mountains of Kentucky an 81 year old
backwoods but literate man named Jeb. “Wise ole Jeb,” as he came to be known,
because of sound counsel he shared with many, had been saved in mid-life but
had never been baptized in water. One Sunday noon, after the congregation had
been dismissed in the little red schoolhouse, an itinerant preacher named
Hezekiah Jones urged Jeb to submit to baptism “as a testimonial to the world,”
to show that he was “all out fer Jesus.” During a moment of uncertainty, Jeb
decided to go along with Jones “fer the sake of peace.” That afternoon, like
Philip and the Eunuch, the two went down into the waters of a near-by lake.
Joyful members of the congregation crowded the shore.
From the moment of his conversion,
Jeb had depended on the Bible to show him everything he should do in matters of
spiritual importance. He loved the Word and read it daily, paying close
attention to everything it said. And he memorized Scripture – lots of it. One
of Jeb’s favorite verses was Heb. 11:6, “Without faith it is impossible to
please God.” A quiet but passionate desire to please the Lord in everything had
slowly taken hold of him.
One day, 1 Thess. 5:21 got his
attention. “It jes seemed ter jump right off the page,” he later explained. He
read it over and over: “Prove all thing holdfast that which is good.” Suddenly
it dawned on him - he needn’t take anyone’s word for anything when it came to
the Bible. “Jes” think,” he mused, “I can prove everything fer m’self!” The
thought of it charged him with an excitement he hadn’t known for years.
Later, at a county-wide brush-arbor
meeting, Jeb arrived in time to hear the featured speaker, an imposing giant of
a man name Shannon O’Hare. There was a time when O’Hare merited the unsavory
reputation of being the meanest, fightinest, hardest-drinking man in town –
until the Lord got his attention. One day, alone in his room, as a little child
might do, he knelt by his bed and there received Christ as Saviour and Lord. It
wasn’t long ‘ere the town people heard about it and smiled. It was, indeed, a
glad day.
O’Hare announced his text as 2
Timothy 3:16-17. Never would Jeb forget how the man electrified his audience
with what seemed like the voice of God Himself. He would not have been
surprised if fire had shot out of heaven and consumed the pulpit.
Pounding it and shaking his Bible
aloft, the fiery orator repeatedly quoted his text: “All Scripture is given by
inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for
correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be
perfect [mature] thoroughly furnished [instructed] unto all good works.”
As he drew his message to a close,
Shannon’s voice became soft and gentle-like, but insistent. “Good neighbors, he
said, “Jes you remember one thing: if’n it ain’t in the Bible fer believers for
this here day of grace, like Paul writ, it ain’t for you, and don’t you never
fergit it. And if’n you don’t fergit, you never will accept no counterfeits –
you hear me?!” He waited. Silence. Folks were thinking. “I say,” he boomed, do
you hear me?! Bedlam broke loose. “Amen, brother,” the crowd roared back!
“Amen, we hear you!” Satisfied, the big man smiled, closed his Bible, and sat
down.
Testimonies followed, some solemn
and tearful, others filled with the joy of heaven, but all spoke of the
goodness and grace of God. Many were the expressions of gratitude for the
cross-work of Christ in dying for our sins, His glorious resurrection, and the
awesome wonder of being “born again,” all because they had simply and sincerely
believed the record of God’s Son. 1 John 5:10-13.
After meeting, barbeque with all the
trimming, followed by ice-cream and cake, and then games for the younger set,
while a number of men and their womenfolk gathered around O’Hare to ask Bible
questions. Jeb never forgot that wonderful brush-arbor meeting of long ago.
Now as he and preacher Jones stepped
into the waters, Shannon’s message came back in force. He recalled O’Hare’s
warning: “If’n it ain’t in the Bible fer believers for this here day of grace,
like Paul writ, it ain’t fer you!”
That settles it, thought Jeb. If’n
water baptism is a good work fer today, it’ll be telling us in the Book how to
do it, specially where Paul writ.
“Hold on, Parson, said Jeb. “Afor’
we go any further, I gotta ask some questions.” Surprised by this ceremonial
irregularity, Jones stepped back in momentary alarm. Jeb continued. “Preacher,,
sinc’n yer a Baptist, I ‘spect you’ll be amersing me in this here lake instead
of pouring water on me. If’n so, what verse proves that that’s the way to do
it? And if’n you do amerse me, will it be once’t, twice’t, three times. I need
Scripture, brother Jones, so’s I know I’m doin’ the right thing.”
tunned by what he perceived as
unmitigated brashness, Hezekiah Jones opened his mouth to object, but Jeb kept
right on: “And, brother Jones, if’n you’re goin’ to be amersing me, will it be
forward or backwards? You once’t told us, yerself, that you believe 2 Timothy
3:17 - that the Bible instructs us to every good work; so I ‘spect if it’s a
good work you’ll give Scripture for whatever you’re goin’ to be doin’.”
The man of the cloth raised his hand
in exasperated protest but Jeb ignored him. “A couple more things afor’ we get
started, preacher: would you ‘splain what this here baptism is fer? What’ll it
do fer me?
“Will it make me a better Christian?
Will it help me win souls better?
Will it make it easier fer me to
show the good “fruit of the Spirit?”
Will it help me better understan’
the Bible?
Will it make my faith stronger?
Will it better my fellowship with my
Maker and spiritual kinfolk?”
Jeb’s voice now rang out loud and
clear across the quiet waters. “An’, preacher, sinc’n we got only a few folks
here, how’s it gonna’ be a testimonial to the world, like you said? Aint nobody
here but us. I thought you onc’t told us that love would prove we was His
disciples. (Jn.13:35) Tell me honest, preacher; I gotta right to know.”
The folks on the bank sucked in
their collective breath, shaking their heads in disbelief. This couldn’t be
happening – talking back to a preacher like that…Besides, those questions! They
looked at each other, then at the preacher – and smiled. No doubt about it,
Parson Jones would handle this!
But Parson Jones, to put it mildly,
had problems of his own. He was in a state of profound shock!
To forestall calamity, Hezakiah
called for a Bible. With hands visibly shaking, he opened its sacred pages to
give him time to think and to, hopefully,
find something, anything, that would
answer Jeb’s questions. The people leaned in to catch his unforgettable words
of wisdom. Slowly, desperately, with beads of perspiration breaking out on his
reddened face, the parson thumbed page after page. Nothing. He felt like a man
drowning. Then his mind when blank.
The simple logic and forcefulness of
the old man’s questions had left him speechless. Too proud to admit he was
stumped, he suddenly remembered aloud that Jeb was not qualified for baptism.
He would explain later. Time to close. Composing himself as best he could,
though feeling “dead-empty” on the inside, Jones mechanically recited a
“benediction,” thereby dismissing the crowd and aborting the baptism.
A slow smile spread over Jeb’s face
as he turned to go his way, satisfied that he had pleased the Lord. The congregation,
in awkward confusion, returned to their homes to think about it.
As for preacher Jones, that evening,
under cover of darkness, he saddled his mount and stole out of town – still
pained by the turn of events. But the pain slowly subsided as he followed the
road. Addressing his long-eared companion, for lack of a larger audience, Jones
vented his feelings: “Well, Matilda, you got to admit that water baptism ain’t
the end of the world. “Sides, I cain’t think of no bigger waste of time than to
make a fuss over such childish, hog-stupid questions as Jeb spewed out.
“What in tarnation got into that
ornery, pig-headed, consternating fool, anyway?” Miltilda answered by pausing
in her gait, dramatically throwing back her head and belting out a long, lonesome,
sorrow-filled bray. Exactlmsentiments,” said Jones, snapping the reigns,
“Giddy-up, ol’ faithful!! The pain had passed!
Posted By Cecil and Connie Spivey
https://www.facebook.com/cecil.spivy
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