Read Online The Devil in Pew Number Seven by Rebecca Nichols Alonzo - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Nichols Alonzo
Ads: Link
the case that church business should be conducted by the church brethren as a whole—not by one or two outspoken individuals—the church family voted to turn the business of the church over to members only. From then on, stripped of his power, Mr. Watts had no say in church matters.
This came as a blow to Mr. Watts, who had been serving on the building committee. It was understandable that the church would rely upon Mr. Watts’s expertise when it was time to build a fellowship hall and additional Sunday school classrooms. He had, after all, been a key player in the construction of the multi-million-dollar jail facility for the county. His wealth of knowledge and years of experience would be invaluable.
During the design phase of the building, Mr. Watts believed his recommendations should be followed. At issue was whether to build an addition with a flat-topped or a pitched roof. If Mr. Watts had had his way, the church would have constructed a smaller building with a pitched roof. Although more costly, this design would have matched the existing facility.
The majority opinion, shared by Daddy, was to keep costs down by constructing a flat-topped structure. This infuriated Mr. Watts, who was accustomed to giving advice and orders, not taking them. While Mr. Watts went along with the others and voted for the simpler roofline, inside he was steaming as if trapped inside a pressure cooker.
Unconvinced that more space was needed, angered that his counsel had been rejected, he took Daddy aside, lobbying him to change the decision. His plea fell on deaf ears. Daddy was not to be swayed, saying, “Mr. Watts, I get my advice 8 from the Lord.” Mr. Watts wasn’t accustomed to being rebuffed, nor did the rejection sit well with him. Mr. Watts had said, “If you don’t need any advice, maybe you should get in your car and go back to Alabama.”
Daddy probably took his comment with a grain of salt.
Everyone was entitled to their opinion, right?
Besides, Daddy and Momma had faced opposition over a building project years before while pastoring a new church. Back when my parents were starting out in the ministry in Alabama, Daddy had been conducting revival services under a tent pitched on a piece of land purchased the hard way: selling chicken and fish dinners. Between the sweltering heat that soaked Daddy from his head down to his socks as if he had been standing in the rain, and the ever-present bugs that seemed to delight in annoying the faithful, his growing congregation knew they had to build.
A handful of neighbors adjacent to the property, however, protested the idea of building a church within a residential community. A public hearing was arranged before the town board to settle the matter. Several councilmen clearly felt pressure to deny the building permit. After reviewing the architect’s drawing, a councilman said, “Mr. Nichols, it doesn’t look 9 as if you have enough room for a playground.”
A playground? Talk about grasping at straws. Daddy was quick to counter, “Sir, we aren’t going to church to play but to worship God.”
Another councilman, who underestimated how resilient Daddy was under pressure, said, “Well, Mr. Nichols, with the complaints we have, it looks as though you may be in a hornet’s nest.”
“Sir,” Daddy said, most likely with a wide, disarming smile, “I’ve been in a hornet’s nest ever since I got saved and started preaching against Satan and his evil workers.” The permit was granted, and the church was built. The fact that Mr. Watts was fuming about the style of roof on the fellowship hall was, by comparison, no big deal. But there were other issues compounding the old man’s rage.
Making matters worse, like tossing gas on an open flame, was a decision to remove Mr. Watts’s wife, Ora, from two positions in the church. For years, Ora had been an adult Sunday school class teacher and the church clerk. As teacher, Ora held to the tradition of the old Fire Baptized
This came as a blow to Mr. Watts, who had been serving on the building committee. It was understandable that the church would rely upon Mr. Watts’s expertise when it was time to build a fellowship hall and additional Sunday school classrooms. He had, after all, been a key player in the construction of the multi-million-dollar jail facility for the county. His wealth of knowledge and years of experience would be invaluable.
During the design phase of the building, Mr. Watts believed his recommendations should be followed. At issue was whether to build an addition with a flat-topped or a pitched roof. If Mr. Watts had had his way, the church would have constructed a smaller building with a pitched roof. Although more costly, this design would have matched the existing facility.
The majority opinion, shared by Daddy, was to keep costs down by constructing a flat-topped structure. This infuriated Mr. Watts, who was accustomed to giving advice and orders, not taking them. While Mr. Watts went along with the others and voted for the simpler roofline, inside he was steaming as if trapped inside a pressure cooker.
Unconvinced that more space was needed, angered that his counsel had been rejected, he took Daddy aside, lobbying him to change the decision. His plea fell on deaf ears. Daddy was not to be swayed, saying, “Mr. Watts, I get my advice 8 from the Lord.” Mr. Watts wasn’t accustomed to being rebuffed, nor did the rejection sit well with him. Mr. Watts had said, “If you don’t need any advice, maybe you should get in your car and go back to Alabama.”
Daddy probably took his comment with a grain of salt.
Everyone was entitled to their opinion, right?
Besides, Daddy and Momma had faced opposition over a building project years before while pastoring a new church. Back when my parents were starting out in the ministry in Alabama, Daddy had been conducting revival services under a tent pitched on a piece of land purchased the hard way: selling chicken and fish dinners. Between the sweltering heat that soaked Daddy from his head down to his socks as if he had been standing in the rain, and the ever-present bugs that seemed to delight in annoying the faithful, his growing congregation knew they had to build.
A handful of neighbors adjacent to the property, however, protested the idea of building a church within a residential community. A public hearing was arranged before the town board to settle the matter. Several councilmen clearly felt pressure to deny the building permit. After reviewing the architect’s drawing, a councilman said, “Mr. Nichols, it doesn’t look 9 as if you have enough room for a playground.”
A playground? Talk about grasping at straws. Daddy was quick to counter, “Sir, we aren’t going to church to play but to worship God.”
Another councilman, who underestimated how resilient Daddy was under pressure, said, “Well, Mr. Nichols, with the complaints we have, it looks as though you may be in a hornet’s nest.”
“Sir,” Daddy said, most likely with a wide, disarming smile, “I’ve been in a hornet’s nest ever since I got saved and started preaching against Satan and his evil workers.” The permit was granted, and the church was built. The fact that Mr. Watts was fuming about the style of roof on the fellowship hall was, by comparison, no big deal. But there were other issues compounding the old man’s rage.
Making matters worse, like tossing gas on an open flame, was a decision to remove Mr. Watts’s wife, Ora, from two positions in the church. For years, Ora had been an adult Sunday school class teacher and the church clerk. As teacher, Ora held to the tradition of the old Fire Baptized
Similar Books
