MY FIRST FULL-TIME PASTORATE
With the call from the Community Church in Houstonia, Missouri, we could pack up and leave Pasadena. By this time we had a large collection of household stuff, and had to have a professional moving company help. We filled our car with ourselves, camping equipment, and clothing. We put as much as we could in our little one-wheeled trailer, and were ready to leave. Of course, it was hard to leave the familiar city, the wonderful school and teachers, and our many student friends.
Because the crossing of the California desert was reported to be so unpleasantly hot in summer, we planned to leave Pasadena about midnight. Thus we could drive in the "cool" of the night. That turned out alright, but I became terribly sleepy. David and I enjoyed seeing the many kangaroo rats hopping across the road, and an occasional coyote caught in the headlights. It was a very warm night. We arrived at Needles, California, on the Arizona border, at about 6AM in the morning, to find the temperature already at 110 degrees in the shade--and no shade.
We cooled off a bit while we ate breakfast in a restaurant, then drove on to Williams, Arizona. There we looked for a motel room, and holed up for the day. The air-conditioned room was a delight. We all enjoyed the rest, though the children were bored. Early next morning we set off to the north to visit Grand Canyon. I took a few good pictures, on black and white film. Later I learned how to make slides from such negatives, and we have enjoyed those.
After that diversion, we drove as quickly as we could across Arizona, New Mexico, the corner of the Texas panhandle, Oklahoma, and on to visit Jane's sister, Evelyn, at Attica, Kansas. We later stopped at Jane's mother's place in eastern Kansas for a short visit. The weather was very hot, and the car unpleasantly warm without an air conditioner. On the hottest days we bought a block of ice, that we kept in the car in a wash pan. We cooled wash cloths on the ice, and used them to keep our faces (and my head) cool! That was a great help.
It was only a short day's drive from Savonburg, Kansas, to our new church town, Houstonia, Missouri, about seventy-five miles due east of Kansas City. Mr. Neef, the church elder who had entertained me in their home on my previous visit, led us to our new home, the parsonage. The house was adequate, though it was terribly old--built before the Civil War! There was a partial basement, dark and damp, but Jane could use it for washing. One central gas furnace located in the floor of the living room, and a fireplace, provided heat when needed. We had a fine front porch, and stored our bicycles there. The large yard offered plenty of space for a garden, though it was too late to start one that year. We had arrived late in July, 1958.
Directly south of the house, in the same block, stood the church, a big, square old brick building, formerly owned by the Christian Church. That congregation had become too small to support the work, so had changed the church to "community church." The congregation had kept some practices of the Christian Church. Other procedures had been borrowed from other churches. Former Southern Baptists and Methodists rounded out the congregation. The sanctuary was bowl-shaped, with plenty of old wooden theatre-type seats. The church yard was pretty weedy, and the grass desperately needed mowing.
I soon learned that the congregation was truly a mixed group. The church board told me on my first visit that the church had some three hundred members. Now I found that there were no really adequate church records, and many members were no longer active, or not living in the area. As soon as I could afford to do so, I ordered a proper church record book, and began to enter membership information, baptisms, weddings, deaths, funerals--all the things that are so important in church records.
The first day we were in Houstonia there came a knock at the door. There stood a couple in their forties, who pleasantly announced that they were the nuts! That is, their name was Nutt! They became good friends, and were very helpful all the time we were there. Her parents and grandparents had been among the founders of the Christian Church, in Indiana, I think it was. Later Mrs. Nutt showed me, with great pride, portraits of many old long-bearded serious-looking men, real "pillars" in the early Christian Church movement.
An important beginning task was to make calls in the homes of the active members in the area, to get acquainted, and find out their thinking on the needs of the church. That was very educational. The Higgins family, actually several families, lived out on Higgins Road (naturally!) west of Houstonia, on farms carved out of the original plantation. The old family home, a beautiful red brick building with white pillars in front, had been built by slaves long before the Civil War. It was no longer lived in. All the Higginses had been former members of the Christian Church.
How well I remember my first visit to one Higgins' home. They had just brought from town a new set of Danish modern living room chairs, and I was invited to try one of them. I seated myself carefully in the low chair, and immediately found myself tossed over backward, doing a complete summersault! The back legs of the chair had collapsed! They, and I, were embarrassed. I assured them that I didn't usually break up the furniture in homes.
The largest family in the area, representing some 60% of the entire congregation through marriage ties, was the Killion family. The patriarch of the whole brood was old "Elder Killion;" that was how everyone knew him. Their farm was about three miles out of town. That farm, the ancestral home, was encircled by farms occupied by sons, and sons-in-law, a very large and influential group in the church. I think they may have originally been Baptists, though I never really knew.
On one of my early visits to Elder Killion’s I found him in the barn, milking. As I visited with him, I leaned against a square upright supporting timber. From old tool marks, I saw that it was hand-hewed. Testing it with my pocket knife, I found the wood to be black walnut--straight as a string, perfectly sound, and some fifteen feet in length. I asked Mr. Killion for the history of the large barn. He said that his grandfather had built the barn from black walnut trees cleared from the land. There was a small fortune in well-cured walnut in that one building!
While I always got along well with Mrs. Killion, I soon found myself out of favor with Elder Killion. There was an old Black lady living in Houstonia, who had been born a slave. She was the only black person in the little town. Jane and I were told about her, and we went down to visit with her one day. We found her a delightful person, a real believer in Jesus. Her Bible was simply a stack of loose pages, it was so well worn. I offered to get her a new one, but she refused it.
After our visit to the black lady, the next time I visited the Killions, he addressed me as "nigger lover," and we never got along well after that. He had heard that we had gone to visit the old lady. It was only a month or so later that Mr. Killion became very ill, and was taken to a hospital in Kansas City, seventy-five miles away. I felt that as his pastor I must visit him no matter where the hospital might be. So we drove all the way to Kansas City, found the hospital and went to his room. When he learned that it was I who had come to visit, he turned his face to the wall, and refused to talk with me. I left the room, while Jane remained by his bedside. After a bit he was willing to talk with her. That was not the last frustrating contact I had with that man. The one hundred and fifty mile round trip to see him was wasted effort and expense.
Checking on the state laws of Missouri, I found that I must be ordained if I were to perform weddings. That wasn't a simple matter, since neither that "independent" church nor I had "ordaining" connections with anyone. From one of my courses in seminary, I had a general idea of how I might go about getting ordained.
I called the pastors of several neighboring churches, asking them to serve on an examining council. The pastor of the Methodist Church, just across the street to the north of the parsonage, agreed to help. I then got the pastor of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church out in the country about ten miles east of town. Two pastors from churches in Sedalia were also willing to come. The Southern Baptist Church pastor, with whom we became good friends later, refused. I think he thought anyone pastoring that community church simply couldn't be a real Christian!
On the appointed day the ministers met at the church, with several members of the church board. I gave a testimony of how I came to believe in Jesus, and told of my training at Fuller Seminary. I then urged the members of the examination panel to ask me questions. No one volunteered any! One or two of the church board members intimated that I seemed all right, and that was the extent of that examination! I had typed up a document stating that I had been examined and ordained on that date, and the several ministers all solemnly signed it. Later, I had that paper recorded in the county recorder's office. I then considered myself officially ordained. No one in Missouri ever questioned it!
Soon after that ordination procedure, I did have a wedding. One day a very shy young woman came and asked if I would conduct a wedding ceremony for her and her fiance. Her father opposed her marrying, chiefly, I gathered, because he would lose a good farm hand! I agreed to help, and we set a date.
The girl, her mother, her fiance, and Jane and I composed the entire wedding party. I carefully checked the license, found it OK, and had the two stand before me, in the empty church. As I read the wedding service, the girl became more and more upset. When we came to the vows, she was unable to speak, and broke down in tears. After a little, when she had regained her composure, we tried again. Same problem! That wedding took longer, I think, than any other I ever conducted. Finally the plain little ring was on her finger, and the ceremony was over. The young couple moved away somewhere, and I think I never saw them again.
Going back to the many inactive members on the church rolls-- I found that there were only about one hundred active members living in the community. I proposed to the Board that we contact the inactive people, to find out whether they wanted to continue as members. They agreed, and I sent out dozens of letters, run off on the ancient mimeograph, asking whether the persons were interested in continuing their church membership. Very few responded, so after waiting a decent interval, I dropped the unresponsive from the rolls, and sent letters notifying them of the action.
Then I learned how much the people in that area treasured their church membership. Several people protested having friends, or even far-distant relatives, dropped from church membership. I persuaded most of them, I think, that church membership is properly for those who really belong to the congregation, and support and attend the activities of a church. The whole business didn't win me any friends.
Houstonia had only one small grocery store, and one tavern. We did most of our shopping on weekly visits to Sedalia, a fair-sized town about twenty miles away. There was a very old, semi-retired doctor in Houstonia, whose abilities everyone questioned. When we needed a doctor, we usually went to see one at a clinic in Sweet Springs, about twelve miles away. There was a large Air Force base in the area, and at least one couple from there were members of the church. There was a small hospital in Sedalia, but most of the folks, when seriously ill or injured, went to a hospital in Kansas City. I made several trips to the city to call on sick people, including the visit I described above.
I soon came to dread the church board meetings. The board was large, about fifteen men, many of whom were heavy smokers. The air would be blue with smoke at every meeting, as they didn't hesitate to smoke in the church building. There were a few earnest Christians on the board, but even they were woefully ignorant of the Bible, or of how a church should operate.
A matter of great pride among the men was their pet project--"God's Acre." One farmer member had offered the use of seventy acres of good farm land for the church to farm. The men had planted soy beans, working cooperatively. The crop was well along when we came to Houstonia. I enjoyed working with the men on those beans. The first work day we all worked at weeding. Later we had a good day combining the beans. The crop brought in a very good return, over $2500, if I remember correctly.
I soon learned that the soybean money was not to be used for any current expenses of the church. It was put in savings, to draw interest, until the board chose some worthy project. Mr. Killion, a member of the board, frequently reminded me in the board meetings that my salary would never be paid out of that fund! Speaking of salary, we soon found that I had agreed to a truly minimum income! Our total salary was only $300 per month. We had to pay our own utilities, buy food and clothing, and drive all over the territory on that money. Jane is a good manager, and we managed to eat well, anyway. Occasionally a farm family gave us eggs or chickens. There were many cottontail rabbits in the nearby thickets. We ate more than a few rabbits that winter! I also shot a few squirrels with my great little .218 Bee rifle, and enjoyed occasional early morning squirrel hunts in the countryside.
I remember one occasion when I had taken the rifle along while out calling in the country. After completing my planned calls, I took a little jaunt up through a likely-looking wooded area, hoping to get a squirrel for supper. When I came back out to the road, carrying the rifle (but no squirrel!), I was just in time to see the Baptist pastor and another man driving by. Jimmy Eads, the pastor, stopped, and they gave me a bad time (joking, of course) about my method of trying to enlarge my congregation at gunpoint!
The other man was a visiting evangelist, and they invited me to their meetings. I did attend that evening, and again they got some good laughs telling of meeting me with the rifle. By that time I had met many of the good Baptists, and we were friends. I attended Jim's church when I could, and Jane and I loved both him and his wife, Naomi, and their children Houstonia was such a little town nearly everyone knew everyone else. I called on many in town, simply going door to door, to get acquainted, and to win anyone possible to faith in Jesus. One little old lady and I became good friends. She was a staunch Baptist, but that didn't hinder my visiting with her, or sharing a Bible passage and prayer time with her. She was nearly blind, and later became totally so. Yet she lived alone, and managed very well. Before we left Houstonia, that lady had cataract surgery, and regained her vision in one eye. She always called me "Brother Cumming," and I just couldn't pass her house without at least calling in a greeting to her. She knew my voice, too, and would ask (when she was blind): "Is that you, Brother Cumming? Come on in!"
There was no suitable space in the church for a church office, so I set up my "study" in our bedroom. I placed a bird feeder just outside the window that first winter, so I could watch the birds. I did leave the ancient mimeograph at the church. I used it for printing the weekly bulletins and some letters. I had learned how to operate a mimeograph while in the CCC’s--another instance where my past experience was of great help.
All too soon winter came on. Then we had to use the gas furnace, located under the living room floor, to heat the house. Several farmers offered tree trimmings for firewood. I cut lots of wood, mostly black locust and oak, to burn in the fireplace. The hardwoods gave off plenty of heat, and always left a fine bed of coals for roasting weiners, or making toast.
David and Mary were soon well established in school in Houstonia. The school was not far from the church. Jane and I became active in the PTA, attending meetings regularly that winter. In those days the ministers of the town, taking turn, had fifteen or twenty minutes to speak at each PTA meeting. It was a great opportunity to speak to a good crowd.
We went to Jane's mother's home for Thanksgiving, and had a great time with Bill and her other brothers and a flock of their sons, hunting quail and rabbits. That was a good visit. I also preached at the little Methodist church one evening. There we met the pastor of the Evangelical Covenant Church located out in the country near Savonburg. On the next visit to Savonburg, I was invited to speak at the Covenant church.
For our own church Christmas program I took pictures of the children of the church in a manger scene--a real one, complete with animals--and scenes in the church yard of the shepherds, etc. Then we showed those slides for the Christmas program. The plan worked out well. The parents, at least, were delighted, though the slides weren't really very good. I kept very busy in ministry, preaching a sermon each Sunday morning, and teaching a men's Sunday School class. For the first few months I also directed the choir and later sang in the choir.
In the fall of 1958 we invited a representative of Moody Bible Institute, Dr. Will R. Johnson, from Galveston, Texas, to come for a week of meetings. He was a grand old fellow, a retired Methodist minister, and did a good job of teaching. He conducted Bible studies at the church each morning, and preached in the evenings, for a whole week. Though he was very good, there was little response to his ministry. As no one else seemed interested, or offered to entertain Dr. Johnson, we put him up at our ancient house. He slept in the narrow "upstairs bedroom" where David had his cot. That worked out fine, except that one morning we heard a terrible thumping, and found that Dr. Johnson had fallen down the stairs! Fortunately, he was not injured! He taught us to sing that great song by Charles Wesley "Oh, Can It Be?" That has been one of my favorites ever since.
Oh, another thing! I wanted some way of presenting Bible stories visually. Jane sometimes used her hand-drawn flannelgraph scenes when telling Bible stories. I wanted something more professional. With my sister Jean's financial help, we bought a good screen and projector for use with both slides and film strips. We still have both "tools," and use them frequently. They were helpful. For the Sunrise Easter service in 1959 I showed a film strip of the crucifixion, and sang a solo "Were You There." I think probably the people were sick of my singing solos!
David obtained the job of mowing the city park soon after we arrived in Houstonia. That meant we must buy a power mower. It was a large area to mow, and sometimes I had to spell him a bit to get the job done. Mary soon became a member of the local 4-H club, and made many friends there. David also mowed the church yard. For entertainment, he often went fishing with neighbor boys, and had much fun doing that, and swimming in the farmponds.
In late winter, about March of 1959, we all came down with Asiatic flu, that was epidemic in the whole area. We all became sick at once. To get medical care, we had to drive to Sweet Springs, to the nearest clinic. I was almost too sick to drive, but the girls were very sick, and needed shots. We went up there two or three times, and had to sit in the waiting room each time with crowds of other sick folks.
After one of those visits to the doctor, I really thought I might die! My pulse that night was down to about 50, and I was terribly nauseated and suffering from diarrhea, as well. Every time I made a dash for the bathroom I became very light-headed, and fainted once or twice. Eventually, of course, we all recovered.
Apart from our visiting with Jimmie and Naomi Eads, the Southern Baptist pastor and his wife, we had no contact with other ministers. I felt that we needed that. Also, there was no church camp anywhere in our area where we might send our children. So after getting the address from the Covenant pastor at Savonburg, I wrote to the Covenant Camp near Grand Island, Nebraska, and asked if there were any possibility that we could attend their family camp. They replied at once with a cordial invitation. That turned out to be a most pleasant week. We took a day driving up, and had lots of fun in the classes, meetings, at meals, fishing, etc. When the camp was over, the pastor of the Covenant Church in Lindsborg, Kansas, invited us to stay at his place overnight, on our way to visit Jane's mother. We did that, and had a great visit with him and his wife.
In the spring of 1959, one church member, a farmer, came and plowed the garden spot for us. I put in a large garden. It did very well, as we had plenty of rain. Jane canned many jars of produce that summer, and we had enough to share with others. A lady in the church, and a farm family who were friends, though not active in the church, loaned me their garden tillers from time to time. The machines helped keep the weeds controlled.
We have always enjoyed harvesting things from nature, mostly to eat. There were many black walnut trees in the countryside around Houstonia. With permission of the landowners, we gathered sacks of walnuts in the fall of 1958 and again in 1959. Sunday afternoons, to help me unwind after preaching, I sometimes went down in the basement and cracked black walnuts for an hour or so. That is slow work, as you may know, but the meats were tasty in cookies and cakes. We also harvested wild grapes, and made jelly from them each year.
In the fall of 1959 the church board approved my suggestion that we invite Harold and Mary Lou Tannehill, from Billings, to come for a series of evangelistic meetings. They came down, as scheduled, and we had "so- so" attendance. Harold preached the first two or three nights on prophecy, jumping hither and yon in the Scriptures in a way that I was sure was confusing to the congregation. It worried me, so after praying seriously for the right way to handle the situation, I decided I must say something. I asked Harold the next morning if it would not be better for him simply to give us good old-fashioned salvation messages. That offended both Harold and Mary Lou, and I was almost sorry I had said anything. But from there on Harold preached for decision, and on the last night of the meeting, one high school girl come forward. I had the pleasure of praying with her to receive Jesus. I think the Tannehills went home a bit unsure whether I was really a sound Christian, as things were a bit cool between us for years after that.
There were some very fine Christian people in the church, and we really appreciated the support they gave us. Most, however, were indifferent. A family reunion or just about any other excuse was sufficient to keep them away from worship and mid-week services. I feel that I was probably wrong in that I always wondered about the absentees, instead of rejoicing in those who did come. I had many a silent struggle with the problem.
In February of 1960 I received an invitation from the Covenant Church to attend their midwinter conference in Kansas City. I think that was a response to our attending the family camp in Nebraska. That was great, and I could hardly contain myself at the prospect of having fellowship with the many pastors who would be there. I went to the conference, and had several interesting conversations with older men in the Covenant.
One, an old traditionalist, must have been afraid that I was trying to weasel my way into the Covenant. He told me strongly, after learning that I did not believe in the baptism of infants, that there was no place for me in the Covenant! Another distinguished man, Gilbert Swenson, senior pastor of the large First Covenant Church in Rockford, Illinois, talked to me at considerable length. I told him that I felt I should move on from the church in Houstonia, but didn't know where to look.
As it turned out, he thought I could work well in the Covenant. Only a couple of weeks after the conference I had an invitation to come to Rockford, Illinois, to candidate at Evergreen Covenant Church, a small, new church on the outskirts of the city. That was encouraging! Jane was invited to come, too, and we took the train from Sedalia to St. Louis and from there to Chicago. We were met in the Chicago station by a friendly couple who drove us to Rockford, about eighty miles away. I preached at both morning and evening services, had a meeting with the board that evening, and immediately had a call to come there as pastor! I accepted, and we returned to Houstonia very happy!
Although it was awkward for David and Mary to have to change schools in the middle of the school year, we arranged to move to Rockford in early April. We had stayed longer (about 20 months) in the community church than any one of the previous twelve preachers. One man had boasted to me that they had "gone through" twelve preachers in a period of 13 years! The new opportunity in Rockford was encouraging, so there was no question whether we should go there. The small, but active, congregation of Evergreen Covenant Church was an energetic group. They had built the church building as a team, and now were ready to try something new. In a series of phone calls, we arranged a date when a group of the men would come to Houstonia to help us move. They would bring a moving truck, gather up all our possessions, and move us to Rockford in one day! Though only a few hundred miles, it sounded like a big undertaking to us.
We set about packing, and had everything ready on the appointed day before the move. That evening we had been feeling a bit sorry for ourselves, since it appeared that the church in Houstonia was totally indifferent to our leaving. Oh, a few folks had come by to say "good-bye," but not many. I remember we ate in the little cafe down town, and then drove back home right at dusk. When we walked in the front door, the lights came on and we found nearly everyone from the church crowded in the house! They had planned a grand farewell surprise party, and carried it off very well. There were gifts and little speeches, and then they all left. They had given us a set of china, that I thought was beautiful
Very early the next morning, while eating our breakfast, we noticed a strange truck parked near the church. Then came a knock at our door! The men from Evergreen Church in Rockford had arrived during the night. They had slept in the truck, and now were ready to load our things. With a busy crew, that didn't take long. One man stayed to ride with us, to make sure we didn't get lost. After a final cleaning of the house, we were on our way to a new start in what I hoped would be a very different situation. How different it was must wait for a later chapter.