“You’re leading up to Mrs. Andrews?” Eric asked.
Jean brought more coffee to the table and Allison resumed her story.
“Alexander Poultry Industries traces its origins to illegal alcohol. Marshall Andrews, Miz Lizbeth’s husband, bootlegged in his younger days. The Federal Alcohol, Tobacco, and Fire Arms Revenooers caught Mr. Andrews. He was incarcerated in the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary shortly before he and Miz Lizbeth were to be married.”
“She waited for him?”
“They both waited, very constructively. While in prison, Marshall sent off for everything he could find concerning the poultry industry. He studied pamphlets from the state agricultural office, the Farm Bureau, county extension agents, and agricultural schools. Miz Lizbeth studied the same materials. When Marshall completed his prison sentence, he and Miz Lizbeth married.”
“They started their company then?”
“Yes. Marshall had access to funds, probably from his bootlegging activities.”
“The Feds didn’t confiscate the money?” Eric asked.
“He had hidden it somewhere; he probably gave it to Miz Lizbeth for safekeeping.”
“They must have really loved each other.”
“Indeed. Marshall and Miz Lizbeth began to contract with local farmers to raise chickens and turkeys for the company. The Andrews used the profits to form their construction company, which built—and still builds—most of the poultry houses you see around here. In the beginning, the Andrews financed everything themselves. Vickery Bank and Trust provides the financing now. Marshall furnished the chicks and feed; the farmers took care of the chickens and turkeys. When the birds reached the proper weight, Marshall collected and sold them to a processing plant in Gainesville. Later, he and Miz Lizbeth built their own feed mill and processing plant.”
“The big railroad cars I see coming into and out of town bring the feed components for the plant?”
“Tomorrow, like most Wednesdays, you’ll smell the feed cooking from all over town.”
“I look forward to the olfactory experience.”
“Just remember what people around here say,” Allison said.
“Which is?”
“The feed plant and chicken houses smell like money.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. What’s the rest of the story?”
Allison looked at her watch. “I’ve got time if you have.”
“I do.”
“Marshall and Miz Lizbeth were busy building the business, which probably accounted for the fact they were childless for a few years. A few months after their son’s birth, a terrible automobile accident late one night killed Marshall. Miz Lizbeth ended up in the wheelchair.”
“What about the son?”
“Jason was at home with a babysitter, in what we call the Big House.”
“A single car accident?”
“Two cars were involved.” Allison took a swallow of her coffee while watching Eric over the rim of the mug. “Law enforcement never identified the driver of the other car.”
“Any idea who drove the second car?”
“Rumors suggest Stuart Whitfield caused the wreck. He tried to compete against Marshall in the local poultry industry. Bad blood existed between them, and the two families remain personal and economic rivals.”
“What’s the relationship between Stuart Whitfield and Ralph Whitfield, our lay leader?” Eric asked.
“Stuart was Ralph’s much older brother.”
“What happened to Stuart?”
“A local court declared Stuart legally dead seven years after he disappeared.”
“He disappeared?”
“A sheriff’s patrol car found Stuart’s pickup truck abandoned on a back road in the depths of Sweet Gum.”
“No signs of foul play?”
“Not unless you consider a total absence of any forensic evidence an indication of foul play. The truck had no fingerprints other than those belonging to Stuart, and no footprints or tire prints appeared on the ground surrounding the abandoned car.”
“When did Stuart disappear?”
“Shortly after Miz Lizbeth’s sons turned eighteen.”
“Sons?”
“Jason and Jacob, the fearsome J-Team,” Allison said.
“The intrigue abounds. Was Mrs. Andrews pregnant with Jacob at the time of the accident?”
“No. A young black woman on the family farm died shortly after the wreck, leaving an infant boy behind. She had been sick since she gave birth to her son.” Allison looked again at her watch. “The girl’s father also lived and worked on the Andrews’ farm. He went to see Miz Lizbeth in the hospital to find out what to do about the baby boy.”
“Because Marshall was the father?”
“That’s right. Marshall was a force of nature. The news may have disappointed Miz Lizbeth, but probably didn’t surprise her. She told the grandfather to bring the baby boy, named Jacob, to the Big House and she would raise him as her own when she left the hospital. Later, she formally adopted Jacob.”
“So Miz Lizbeth adopted and raised the illegitimate son of her husband. An astounding decision considering the times,” Eric said.
“Astounding only mildly describes Miz Lizbeth. She had Jackson Williams move into the Big House to help take care of her.”
“Jackson Williams is the man who pushes Mrs. Andrew’s wheelchair and always seems to be with her?”
“That right. I think Jackson is Jacob’s uncle. Miz Lizbeth hired women to help with the boys and to take care of the Big House.”
“You didn’t finish a major part of the story. Nobody has any idea about what happened to Stuart Whitfield?”
“Some people believe he fed the chickens,” Allison said.
“Someone processed his body into chicken feed at the plant?”
“A rumor only, maybe a conspiracy theory. Law enforcement never seemed interested in pursuing the matter, and it’s well outside my sphere of responsibility.”
“Mrs. Andrews, if involved, certainly did not act on her own to get rid of Stuart.”
“She could not have.”
“Was it the sons?” Eric asked.
“Who knows? Some people around here might say Stuart received justice, albeit delayed.”
“I’m Mrs. Andrews’ minister, not a law enforcement agent,” Eric said. “There’s no need for me to get involved unless someone feels confession might be good for the soul.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Where are Jason and Jacob?”
“Jason went to the Naval Academy and flies a fighter jet off an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Indian Ocean. Jacob’s on the West Coast. He was an All-American fullback in college, and played professional football for a few years before becoming a member of the team’s coaching staff.”
“The sons don’t want to come back to Vickery?”
“Miz Lizbeth has read Jason and Jacob the riot act. They have until Jason’s current obligation to the Navy ends before they’re to come home and take care of the businesses. Jason’s not to reenlist no matter how much he loves flying and shooting up things, and Jacob’s not to sign a contract extension, no matter how much he loves the game.”
“They’ll follow Miz Lizbeth’s command?”
“If they know what’s good for them. You made a favorable impression on Miz Lizbeth at your first SPRC meeting. She liked your first sermon; your background impresses her. Miz Lizbeth definitely will support you, as will I.”
“Good to know some people want to move forward.”
Allison collected her briefcase and purse. “Reverend Jameson.”
“Eric, please.”
“All right, if you’ll call me Allison.”
“Allison, you were about to say?”
“Miz Lizbeth and I figure you’ve been sent here to bring some new life into our congregation, something we desperately need. You mentioned that fact Sunday.”
“I have my orders from the district superintendent and bisho
p.”
“You might want to go slow in the beginning. We have a number of people in the congregation who will want to maintain the current status. They’re comfortable with their own small world.”
“I must preach the Gospel as best I can.”
“Like in Acts, you’ll turn the world upside down?”
“The Gospel has a liberating effect.”
Allison laughed and left the coffee shop.
CHAPTER 5
Sunday, 06 July
Eric, from his position behind the pulpit, watched Miz Lizbeth, Jackson, Allison, and Joseph make their way down the central aisle of the church to their seats on the second row of pews. He smiled at Allison; she smiled back. Joseph, observing the exchange, whispered in his mother’s ear. Allison held a forefinger to her lips. From the look on her face, Eric surmised Joseph’s comment did not displease her.
Earlier in the week, the Worship Committee asked to meet with Eric to discuss what the chairman termed “our traditional Fourth of July patriotic worship service.” The committee, which provided only general details about what appeared to be a long-standing annual event, requested Eric to deliver a sermon in keeping with the patriotic theme. Eric neither explored what the committee meant by a patriotic sermon nor did he bring up how he might have reservations about some aspects of such a worship service.
Ralph Whitfield, serving as lector, announced, “The veterans from each branch of our gallant armed forces should stand at attention when the choir sings your battle hymn.” The stirring music began with “When the Army Goes Rolling Along”. Eric stood with other Army veterans. He made a mental note to compliment John Carlyle for choosing the official version of the U.S. Army song rather than the more popular “When the Caissons Go Rolling Along”. Eric and the other Army veterans sat when the choir transitioned into “From the Halls of Montezuma”, “Eternal Father Strong to Save”, “Off We Go into the Wild Blue Yonder”, and “Semper Paratus (Always Ready)”.
After the morning announcements, Whitfield asked everyone to stand for the National Anthem. The congregation sang lustily along with the choir as a Boy Scout Honor Guard, shouldering World War II M-1 Garand rifles, marched into the sanctuary with the American flag. The Scouts placed the flag at the altar rail and went to the front row of pews to Eric’s right. The music ended and Whitfield commanded, “The Pledge of Allegiance!” Eric observed fierce looks on the faces of many congregants as they recited the pledge.
The congregation sat and the choir embarked upon a stirring combined anthem of “America the Beautiful” and “God Bless America” while the ushers passed the collection plates for the morning offering. Eric walked to where Whitfield sat behind the small pulpit on stage right, the Gospel side, of the sanctuary. He told Whitfield, “I’ve changed the Scripture. Please read Romans 13:1-7.”
Whitfield looked displeased.
“Do it,” Eric said.
Whitfield nodded.
Eric pronounced the blessing over the collection plates and sat patiently while a tenor soloist sang a concert version of “Onward Christian Soldiers”. Whitfield announced, “Reverend Jameson wishes for me to read the first seven verses of Chapter Thirteen from Paul’s Epistle to the Romans rather the selection listed in our bulletin:
“Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Do you wish to have no fear of the authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive its approval; for it is God’s servant for your good. But if you do what is wrong, you should be afraid, for the authority does not bear the sword in vain! It is the servant of God to execute wrath on the wrongdoer. Therefore one must be subject, not only because of wrath but also because of conscience. For the same reason you also pay taxes, for the authorities are God’s servants, busy with this very thing. Pay to all what is due them—taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due.”
Whitfield took his seat, obviously displeased. Eric stepped to the center of the chancel where he preferred to preach. The FM lapel microphone he wore freed him from the restraint of remaining behind the pulpit. He had hoped to wait a few weeks before engaging the congregation on divisive issues, but the presence of the M-1 rifles the honor guard carried and the extreme patriotic fervor many congregants exhibited compelled him to change the focus of his sermon. I hope the Holy Spirit guides me, he thought.
Allison arched her eyes at Eric as he began. “We properly honor brave men and women who have served in our armed forces, fought in our country’s wars, and were wounded or died as consequences of those conflicts. Our gathering today illustrates such honor and our respect; yet, I must remind you of our denominational position on military conflict: We’re against war; we sometimes must fight; God save our souls.
“Our Independence Day celebrations place discerning Christians, those who choose to think deeply and clearly about fundamental issues, in a difficult position. Two magnificent secular documents, which some American Christians mistakenly assume carry the weight of Holy Scripture, define the United States of America from the perspective of politics: the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.”
Eric saw the obvious discomfort of some congregants, and the interest he had aroused in a few others. “Neither of these noble documents, however, conforms to Holy Scripture.” Many of the congregants stirred uneasily. How long, Eric wondered, before they prepare the tar and feathers?
He soldiered on. “Let’s consider the second paragraph of the Declaration of Independence, beginning with ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident’. This statement obviously does not conform to the teaching of Holy Scripture.” Eric saw hostility erupt on some faces. “Why? Because Christians believe the Holy Spirit transmits all truth from God to humans. Thus, the Declaration’s ‘truths to be self-evident’ erroneously places the origin of truth on humans, rather than originating from God.”
Eric could hardly keep a straight face when he glanced at Whitfield, who seemed ready to charge across the sanctuary and attack Eric. “Next, we move on to an obviously false statement, ‘All men are created equal’. Look around you while disregarding the sexist language about men. Who among us may be thought equal to another in this congregation? If the Declaration had stated, ‘All men and women are created with equal standing before God,’ we might be more theologically comfortable.” Some of the women in the congregation chuckled.
“Next, another set of Scriptural difficulties: ‘they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness’. In the context of the Declaration, Creator originates from Deism. Many of our primary founders were Deists: George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, and James Madison immediately come to mind. Deists believe in a god who created this universe to run much like a magnificently constructed clock. The Deist god withdrew after the initial work of creation, leaving humans to persevere and the universe to run without any divine supervision and certainly without any divine intercession. Deists accept neither the divinity of Jesus Christ nor the validity of miracles.
“Christians know our God did not endow or give us the right to life. Why? Because Christians throughout history have been called upon to give up their lives in allegiance to the Gospel. Consider how Christians in China and Islamic states continue to testify to the power of God Almighty in the face of extreme, even life-ending, persecution. Christians have a fundamental obligation and a right—to profess and witness to the power of the Gospel regardless of political liberty. Our job may be easier, if we have political liberty, although the obligation remains even in times of persecution. Our history also reveals Christians did not receive the right to happiness, except the happiness derived from living out the
Gospel. No one, no political document can bestow upon Christians this type of happiness, which often comes during times of absolute unhappiness in other aspects of our lives.
“I ask you to recall St. Paul’s assertion from the Scripture Mr. Whitfield read so well: Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Simply put, St. Paul tells us governments exist because of God’s authority, in direct opposition to the Declaration’s consent of the governed.”
Eric’s words caused overt signs of anger in many of the congregants. “We now come to our Constitution, the pinnacle of our secular documents, a document I swore to uphold and defend against foreign and domestic enemies. The Constitution seeks to establish a government based upon the will of the majority of voting citizens, while retaining specific rights for minorities. I remind you of an inescapable fact: God, who does not operate according to human opinion, constitutes a majority of one. God must be the controlling authority for Christians, not the U.S. Constitution.”
I’ll fire the last shot for today, Eric thought, although he knew the sermon barely scratched the surface of the relationship between Christians and the U.S. Government. “Earlier in our worship service, we recited the Pledge of Allegiance, beginning with ‘I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands.’
“Christians have one overwhelming allegiance—an allegiance to God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Allegiance cannot be parsed, because either allegiance must be total or it is something less than allegiance. Yes, we try to get around this notion by including the words, one nation under God. We Christians work for one nation, indeed, a one-world government under the authority of God, with Jesus Christ as God’s vicar or governor on earth, a goal we sometimes express as every knee shall bow and every tongue confess Jesus Christ as Lord.
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