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Authors: Charles Willeford
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laymen in training for the Church of God's Flock, and the monastery may close, leaving us to our own resources in Florida. To depend on Birmingham, except for the wisdom of their experience, is not feasible. They have their own churches to consider, and there are three in Birmingham, as you know. Where are our new ministers to come from unless we work and work hard? Why isn't there at least one Church of God's Flock in every city and village and hamlet in Florida? Why, indeed? It is because we are not working for God, gentlemen. Abbott Dover, a saintly man, prays daily for the strength to carry on his work and he is at the end of his tether. Let us pray for the rejuvenation of our church and the increased entry of holy devoted men to our monastery at Orangeville."
I bowed my head and the others followed suit. I steepled my fingers, moved my lips silently for the time it took me to count to one hundred, and then I said, "Amen!"
"Amen!" repeated the three trustees in unison.
"And now, gentlemen," I said. "Let's get down to business. Where is my church? Where is my residence, and how much do I get paid?"
We haggled, and we dickered.
Down to practicalities and away from nebulous discussion of religious topics, these were fine, realistic men I was dealing with, and I admired their business sense. There is more to administering a church than meets the eye, and these trustees had been through the mill. The church was a labor of love to these businessmen, but it was also a way to prestige in the Negro community. As the money talk began, with the inevitable haggling, they began to talk to me as a person as well as a minister. Some of the oily veneer of politeness dropped away, and I realized that much of the respect I had enjoyed earlier in our conversation was due to my being a white man in addition to being their new pastor.
After a pleasant hour with figures and the discussion of practicalities, e.g., rent, taxes, upkeep, amortization, etc., I was well pleased with the final settlement we had all agreed upon.
My residence, next to the church, was rent free. A combination cook-maid named Ralphine, who was very old, they said, but capable, would clean the house, cook my meals and do my laundry. The trustees would pay her twenty dollars a month, and I was to give her free meals on the days she worked.
My salary, based on church attendance records of the past three years, was to be eighty dollars a month, payable in cash at twenty dollars a week on Sunday night, after the evening sermon. Brother Caldwell asked me if I would rather have the money all at once at the end of each month and I refused, pointing out to him that in a period of three months there are thirteen weeks, not twelve.
In services I was to receive a free haircut from Brother Caldwell once a week if I would agree to have it cut on Thursday. Saturday was his busiest day, and I agreed to Thursday providing I could get a free shave as well. After a brief argument I won my point.
Dr. Jensen generously offered to clean my teeth and give me a free examination of my mouth twice a year. I was grateful for his offer and I promptly accepted. I never would have thought of that concession.
Jackie, no doubt to salve his conscience about staying open on Sunday, stated that I was welcome to have a free rib or chicken dinner at any time I so desired, and he hoped that I would visit him often. My agreeing with his policy to serve Sunday dinners earlier in our conversation had been a wise move on my part.
In return for my house, my salary and the free services from the board of trustees, I was to preach a two-hour sermon from 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. and an evening service from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. every Sunday. Also, in the event enough interested students could be found, I was to teach a two-hour Bible class on Friday evenings.
I bowed my head and the others followed suit. I steepled my fingers, moved my lips silently for the time it took me to count to one hundred, and then I said, "Amen!"
"Amen!" repeated the three trustees in unison.
"And now, gentlemen," I said. "Let's get down to business. Where is my church? Where is my residence, and how much do I get paid?"
We haggled, and we dickered.
Down to practicalities and away from nebulous discussion of religious topics, these were fine, realistic men I was dealing with, and I admired their business sense. There is more to administering a church than meets the eye, and these trustees had been through the mill. The church was a labor of love to these businessmen, but it was also a way to prestige in the Negro community. As the money talk began, with the inevitable haggling, they began to talk to me as a person as well as a minister. Some of the oily veneer of politeness dropped away, and I realized that much of the respect I had enjoyed earlier in our conversation was due to my being a white man in addition to being their new pastor.
After a pleasant hour with figures and the discussion of practicalities, e.g., rent, taxes, upkeep, amortization, etc., I was well pleased with the final settlement we had all agreed upon.
My residence, next to the church, was rent free. A combination cook-maid named Ralphine, who was very old, they said, but capable, would clean the house, cook my meals and do my laundry. The trustees would pay her twenty dollars a month, and I was to give her free meals on the days she worked.
My salary, based on church attendance records of the past three years, was to be eighty dollars a month, payable in cash at twenty dollars a week on Sunday night, after the evening sermon. Brother Caldwell asked me if I would rather have the money all at once at the end of each month and I refused, pointing out to him that in a period of three months there are thirteen weeks, not twelve.
In services I was to receive a free haircut from Brother Caldwell once a week if I would agree to have it cut on Thursday. Saturday was his busiest day, and I agreed to Thursday providing I could get a free shave as well. After a brief argument I won my point.
Dr. Jensen generously offered to clean my teeth and give me a free examination of my mouth twice a year. I was grateful for his offer and I promptly accepted. I never would have thought of that concession.
Jackie, no doubt to salve his conscience about staying open on Sunday, stated that I was welcome to have a free rib or chicken dinner at any time I so desired, and he hoped that I would visit him often. My agreeing with his policy to serve Sunday dinners earlier in our conversation had been a wise move on my part.
In return for my house, my salary and the free services from the board of trustees, I was to preach a two-hour sermon from 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. and an evening service from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. every Sunday. Also, in the event enough interested students could be found, I was to teach a two-hour Bible class on Friday evenings.
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