“The Man Behind The Pulpit”

A True Short Story by Barbara E. McCain

 Six years is a long time.  For some it may indeed seem as long as a life time. 

 It had been a full six years since we had been in the little country church that held so many memories for us.  It had been a place of joy and victories.  It had been a place of many firsts: our first pastorate, our first rescue work, and our first deacon, Reggie.  What a blessing those “firsts” had been in our lives.  Each one was full of fond remembrances.  We were heading down the still familiar road for our first visit since leaving for the mission field.  It was a time of furlough for our family.  A time of reporting to our supporting churches and telling of the victories and challenges of that far away place of service and the people there.  Our children were older and taller, and, though we hardly admitted it, we were older, too. 

 Of all the churches we would visit, that little church seemed to hold the most excitement for us.  The bonds of love had been strong.  We could still envision each face and each detail of the old building.  It had been hard to leave.  Only the persistent call of missionary challenge had given us the courage to drive away so many years before.  And now we were coming back just for one evening.  The folks had wanted to do something special.  Instead of the normal Sunday meeting, they had planned a Friday evening service with an ice cream social.  They wanted it to be like a family gathering, the family of our first church.

 The junction in the road ahead alerted us to the fact that we were almost there.  We took the time to prepare the children once again.  We had to prepare them for meeting Reggie.  This quiet, gentle man had been very important to all of us.  To my husband, in his first pastorate, Reggie had been the perfect supply of support and encouragement, the embodiment of all the qualities that a deacon should possess.  To me, he had been the potential for strength that young mothers often need in thinking ahead to the eventualities of the need for someone to help in that unforeseen emergency if a husband is not there.  Thankfully, I had never had to use Reggie for that purpose.  But just to know he was available had given me peace.  To my children, he had become an almost substitute grandfather.  His farm had held happy times for them.  His warm supportive smile had given them joy.  His love had been demonstrated in practical ways.  There had been the new tires delivered for our old car, just so he would have the peace of knowing our children were riding in a safer vehicle.  There had been the sharing of a financial windfall, which he said was in response to the Lord’s leading to help put food on our table.  It was the supply of a very great and unspoken need at the time.  We knew that the children had many fond memories of Reggie.  But the last letter from his wife, Edith, had said Reggie was changed.  We needed to prepare the children, and we needed to prepare ourselves.  It would be our first encounter with an Alzheimer patient.

 “Reggie might not know who you are,” my husband said.  “Edith says he does not always know who she is.”

“And he might act differently, “ I added.

“That’s okay,” said our littlest, “We’ll just love him anyway.”

One more turn in the road and the white farm house came into view.  We were to have dinner with Edith and Reggie before the meeting.  There was the same barn, the same side door and then the same country kitchen we had eaten in many times before.  Edith’s smile was just as welcoming and her hug as firm as in the past.  But our eyes were seeking out Reggie.  Slowly he came into the room.  His walk was with a slight shuffle, he looked older.  We all greeted him and then we knew, he did not know us or why we were there. 

The next hour gave us a lot of insight and burden for prayer.  Ever the kind and gracious host in the past, the same character was demonstrated as he would constantly walk over to my husband and ask, “Would you like some coffee?”  The question was asked again and again.  And then he started to add another comment.  He would look steadily at my husband and say, “I should know, I should know.”  Over and over, we softly told him who we were, but his eyes did not register any recognition. 

Edith reminded us that it was time to leave for the church.  Once there we would enjoy the ice cream social and then share our slides and testimonies of the mission field.  Edith said she would bring Reggie, but they would sit near the back of the church in case he had any problems.  It was great to see so many of the congregation waiting at the church.  We all laughed and fellowshipped and ate together in the social hall.  I noticed Reggie walked around a lot and that several times he looked at us again.  Twice, he came over to my husband and said, “I should know, I should know.”

Finally, we all went into the church auditorium and sang a few songs together, then showed the slides.  Reggie and Edith sat on the back row and my attention was now on all the other people.  After the last slide was shown, my husband asked for the lights to be turned back on and he stepped up to the pulpit to share the blessings of the last years on the mission field.  It was the same sturdy pulpit from which he had preached when he had pastored the church.  I knew that being there held many warm memories for him.  I found I had unconsciously taken the same seat that I had usually occupied when we had been in the church before.  It was a very joyous moment. 

After a brief prayer, my husband opened his Bible and started to share the testimony he had planned.  Suddenly, I heard a quiet shuffling noise from the back of the auditorium and turned to see Reggie getting up and walking down the aisle toward the front of the church.  Everyone was very still, watching him.  He walked slowly but steadily to the front, then up the steps of the platform and to his former Pastor’s side.  His arm went around my husband’s shoulders and he said, “I know, I know.  You’re my Pastor.”

 There was not a dry eye in the auditorium.  My husband hugged Reggie and stood holding him for a moment.  Once again, his deacon had encouraged him.  In that brief moment of time, this man robbed of so many memories had recognized his beloved pastor when the Bible had been opened.  The faithful deacon had not forgotten the man behind the pulpit.