Who I have chosen my bosom friend
That sops in the dish with me shall betray me.”
I want to draw a parable.
I see Jesus
Leaving heben with all of His grandeur
Dis-robin’ Hisself of His matchless honor
Yielding up de scepter of revolvin’ worlds
Clothing Hisself in de garment of humanity
Coming into de world to rescue His friends.
Two thousand years have went by on their rusty ankles
But with the eye of faith, I can see Him
Look down from His high towers of elevation
I can hear Him when He walks about the golden streets
I can hear ’em ring under His footsteps
Sol me-e-e, Sol do
Sol me-e-e, Sol do
I can see Him step out upon the rim bones of nothing
Crying I am de way
De truth and de light
Ah!
God A ’mighty!
I see Him grab de throttle
Of de well ordered train of mercy
I see kingdoms crush and crumble
Whilst de archangels held de winds in de corner chambers
I see Him arrive on dis earth
And walk de streets thirty and three years
Oh-h-hhh!
I see Him walking beside de sea of Galilee wid His disciples
This declaration gendered on His lips
“Let us go on to the other side”
God A’mighty!
Dey entered de boat
Wid their oarus (oars) stuck in de back
Sails unfurled to de evenin’ breeze
And de ship was now sailin’
As she reached de center of de lake
Jesus was sleep on a pillow in de rear of de boat
And de dynamic powers of nature became disturbed
And de mad winds broke de heads of de Western drums
And fell down on de lake of Galilee
And buried themselves behind de gallopin’ waves
And de white-caps marbilized themselves like an army
And walked out like soldiers goin’ to battle
And de zig-zag lightning
Licked out her fiery tongue
And de flying clouds
Threw their wings in the channels of the deep
And bedded de waters like a road-plow
And faced de current of de chargin’ billows
And de terrific bolts of thunder—they bust in de clouds
And de ship begin to reel and rock
God A’mighty!
And one of de disciples called Jesus
“Master!! Carest Thou not that we perish?”
And He arose
And de storm was in its pitch
And de lightnin’ played on His raiments as He stood on the
prow of the boat
And placed His foot upon the neck of the storm
And spoke to the howlin’ winds
And de sea fell at His feet like a marble floor
And de thunders went back in their vault
Then He set down on de rim of de ship
And took de hooks of His power
And lifted de billows in His lap
And rocked de winds to sleep on His arm
And said, “Peace, be still.”
And de Bible says there was a calm.
I can see Him wid de eye of faith.
When He went from Pilate’s house
Wid the crown of seventy-two wounds upon His head
I can see Him as He mounted Calvary and hung upon de cross
for our sins.
I can see-eee-ee
De mountains fall to their rocky knees when He cried
“My God, my God! Why hast Thou forsaken me?”
The mountains fell to their rocky knees and trembled like a
beast
From the stroke of the master’s axe
One angel took the flinches of God’s eternal power
And bled the veins of the earth
One angel that stood at the gate with a flaming sword
Was so well pleased with his power
Until he pierced the moon with his sword
And she ran down in blood
And de sun
Batted her fiery eyes and put on her judgment robe
And laid down in de cradle of eternity
And rocked herself into sleep and slumber
He died until the great belt in the wheel of time
And de geological strata fell aloose
And a thousand angels rushed to de canopy of heben
With flamin’ swords in their hands
And placed their feet upon blue ether’s bosom, and looked
back at de dazzlin’ throne
And de arc angels had veiled their faces
And de throne was draped in mournin’
And de orchestra had struck silence for the space of half an
hour
Angels had lifted their harps to de weepin’ willows
And God had looked off to-wards immensity
And blazin’ worlds fell off His teeth
And about that time Jesus groaned on de cross, and
Dropped His head in the locks of His shoulder and said, “It
is finished, it is finished.”
And then de chambers of hell exploded
And de damnable spirits
Come up from de Sodomistic world and rushed into de smoky
camps of eternal night,
And cried, “Woe! Woe! Woe!”
And then de Centurion cried out,
“Surely this is the Son of God.”
And about dat time
De angel of Justice unsheathed his flamin’ sword and ripped
de veil of de temple
And de High Priest vacated his office
And then de sacrificial energy penetrated de mighty strata
And quickened de bones of de prophets
And they arose from their graves and walked about in de
streets of Jerusalem
I heard de whistle of de damnation train
Dat pulled out from Garden of Eden loaded wid cargo goin’
to hell
Ran at break-neck speed all de way thru de law
All de way thru de prophetic age
All de way thru de reign of kings and judges—
Plowed her way thru de Jurdan
And on her way to Calvary, when she blew for de switch
Jesus stood out on her track like a rough-backed mountain
And she threw her cow-catcher in His side and His blood
ditched de train
He died for our sins.
Wounded in the house of His friends.
That’s where I got off de damnation train
And dat’s where you must get off, ha!
For in dat mor-ornin’, ha!
When we shall all be delegates, ha!
To dat Judgment Convention
When de two trains of Time shall meet on de trestle
And wreck de burning axles of de unformed ether
And de mountains shall skip like lambs
When Jesus shall place one foot on de neck of de sea, ha!
One foot on dry land, ah
When His chariot wheels shall be running hub-deep in fire
He shall take His friends thru the open bosom of an
unclouded sky
And place in their hands de “hosanna” fan
And they shall stand ’round and ’round his beatific throne
And praise His name forever, Amen.
There had been a mighty response to the sermon all thru its length. The “bearing up” had been almost continuous, but as Pearson’s voice sank dramatically to the final Amen, Anderson lifted a chant that kept the church on fire for several seconds more. During this frenzy John Pearson descended from the pulpit. Two deacons sprang to assist him at the Communion table, but he never stop
ped there. With bowed head he walked down the center aisle and out of the door—leaving stupefaction in his wake. Hoffman and Nelse Watson posted after him and stopped him as he left the grounds, but he brushed off their hands.
“No, chillun, Ah—Ah can’t break—can’t break de bread wid y’all no mo’,” and he passed on.
“Man, ain’t you goin’ on back tuh yo’ pulpit lak you got some sense?” Hambo asked that night. “If you don’t some of ’em is sho tuh strow it uhround dat you wuz put out.”
“Naw, Hambo. Ah don’t want y’all fightin’ and scratchin’ over me. Let ’em talk all dey wanta.”
“Ain’t yuh never tuh preach and pastor no mo?”
“Ah won’t say never ’cause—Never is uh long time. Ah don’t b’lieve Ahm fitted tuh preach de gospel—unless de world is wrong. Yuh see dey’s ready fuh uh preacher tuh be uh man uhmongst men, but dey ain’t ready yet fuh ’im tuh be uh man uhmongst women. Reckon Ah better stay out de pulpit and carpenter fuh mah livin’. Reckon Ah kin do dat ’thout uh whole heap uh rigmarole.”
But after a while John was not so certain. Several people who formerly had felt that they would rather wait for him several weeks to do a job now discovered that they didn’t even have time to get him word. Some who already had work done shot angry, resentful looks after him and resolved not to pay him. It would be lacking in virtue to pay carpenter-preachers who got into trouble with congregations. Two men who had been glad of a chance to work under him on large jobs kept some of his tools that he had loaned them and muttered that it was no more than their due. He had worked them nearly to death in the damp and cold and hadn’t paid them. One man grew so indignant that he pawned a spirit-level and two fine saws.
John was accused of killing one man by exposure and overwork. It was well known that he died of tuberculosis several months after he had worked a day or two for John, but nobody was going to be behind hand in accusations. Every bawdy in town wept over her gin and laid her downfall at John’s door. He was the father of dozens of children by women he had never seen. Felton Cozy had stepped into his shoes at Zion Hope and made it a point to adjust his glasses carefully each time he saw John lest too much sin hit him in his virtuous eye. John came to recognize all this eventually and quit telling people his troubles or his plans. He found that they rejoiced at the former and hurried away to do what they could to balk the latter.
As one man said, “Well, since he’s down, less keep ’im down.”
He saw himself growing shabby. It was hard to find food in variety.
One evening he came home most dejected.
“Whuss de matter, big foots?” Hambo asked. “You look all down in de mouf.”
“Look lak lightnin’ done struck de po’ house. Dey got me in de go-long Ah reckon. All de lies dese folks strowing ’round ’bout me done got some folks in de notion Ah can’t drive uh clean nail in they lumber. Look lak dey spectin’ uh house Ah build tuh git tuh fornication befo’ dey could get de paint on it. Lawd Jesus!”
“Come in and eat some dese snap peas and okra Ah got cooked. It’ll give you mo’ guts than uh goat.”
“Naw thankee, Hambo. Ahm goin’ lie down.”
He went into his room and shut the door. “Oh Lucy! Lucy! Come git me. You knowed all dis—whut yuh leave me back heah tuh drink dis cup? Please, Lucy, take dis curse offa me. Ah done paid and paid. Ah done wept and Ah done prayed. If you see God where you is over dere ast Him tuh have mercy! Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus, Oh-wonder-workin’ God. Take dis burden offa mah sobbin’ heart or else take me ’way from dis sin-sick world!”
He sought Lucy thru all struggles of sleep, mewing and crying like a lost child, but she was not there. He was really searching for a lost self and crying like the old witch with her shed skin shrunken by red pepper and salt, “Ole skin, doncher know me?” But the skin was never to fit her again. Sometimes in the dark watches of the night he reproached Lucy bitterly for leaving him. “You meant to do it,” he would sob. “Ah saw yo’ eyes.”
By day he gave no sign of his night-thoughts. His search and his tears were hidden under bed quilts.
When Hambo woke him for breakfast next morning he didn’t get up.
“Don’t b’lieve Ahm goin’ out tuhday, ’cause if Ah meet Cozy wid dat sham-polish smile uh his’n de way Ah feel tuhday, dey’ll be tryin’ me fuh murder nex’ time.”
His courage was broken. He lay there in bed and looked back over days that had had their trial and failure. They had all been glorious tomorrows once gilded with promise, but when they had arrived, they turned out to be just days with no more fulfillment—no more glad realities than those that had preceded—more betrayal, so why look forward? Why get up?
His divorce trial stayed with him. He saw that though it was over at the courthouse the judge and jury had moved to the street corners, the church, the houses. He was on trial everywhere, and unlike the courthouse he didn’t have a chance to speak in his own behalf.
Sisters White and Carey came over around sundown with a gingerbread and melon-rind preserves.
“Always remembered you had uh sweet tooth,” Sister Carey said.
They wanted to know if he was thinking of pastoring again. Certain people had crowded Cozy in, but the real folks had “chunked him out again. His shirttail may be long but we kin still spy his hips.”
“He never could preach, nohow,” Sister White complained, “and he been strainin’ hisself tryin’ tuh be stronger wid de women folks than you wuz. Settin’ ’round de houses drinkin’ and sayin’ toastes ’bout, ‘Luck tuh de duck dat swims de pond—’ Bet if some dese men folks ketch ’im dey’ll luck his duck fuh ’im. Since you won’t consider, us callin’ uh man from Savannah.”
“Oh, he’s more’n welcome to all de women folks,” John rejoined.
“Where you keepin’ yo’self dese days, anyhow, and whut you doin’?”
“Oh well, Sister White, since yuh ast me, Ah do any kind of uh job Ah kin git tuh make uh dollar, and Ah keeps mahself at home. Sometimes Ah reads de Bible and sometimes Ah don’t feel tuh. Den Ah jus’ knock uhround from pillar tuh post and sort of dream. Seem lak de dreams is true sho ’nuff sometime—iss so plain befo’ me, but after while dey fades. But even while they be fadin’, Ah have others. So it goes from day tuh day.”
One night John had a dream. Lucy sat beside a stream and cried because she was afraid of a snake. He killed the snake and carried Lucy across in his arms to where Alf Pearson stood at the cross roads and pointed down a white shell road with his walking cane and said, “Distance is the only cure for certain diseases,” and he and Lucy went racing down the dusty white road together. Somehow Lucy got lost from him, but there he was on the road—happy because the dead snake was behind him, but crying in his loneliness for Lucy. His sobbing awoke him and he said, “Maybe it’s meant for me tuh leave Sanford. Whut Ahm hangin’ ’round heah for, anyhow?”
At breakfast he said to Hambo, “Well, Hambo, Ah been thinkin’ and thinkin’ and Ah done decided dat Ahm goin’ tuh give you dis town. You kin have it.”
“You better say Joe, ’cause you don’t know. Us been here batchin’ tuhgether and gittin ’long fine. Ahm liable not tuh let yuh go. Me, Ahm in de ‘B’ class, be here when you leave and be here when you git back.”
“Oh yeah, Ahm goin’. Gointer spread mah jenk in unother town.”
“Where you figgerin’ on goin’?”
“Don’t know yet. When Ah colleck dem few pennies Ah got owing tuh me, iss good bye Katy, bar de door. Some uh dese mawnin’s, and it won’t be long, you goin’ tuh wake up callin’ me and Ah’ll be gone.”
And that is the way he went. It was equally haphazard that he landed in Plant City and went about looking for work.
Several times he passed the big white building that Baptist pride had erected and that he had been invited as Moderator to dedicate, but he passed it now with shuttered eyes. He avoided the people who might remember him.
A week and no work. Walking the streets with his tool k
it. Hopeful, smiling ingratiatingly into faces like a dog in a meat house. Desperation nettling his rest.
“How yuh do, suh? Ain’t you Rev’und Pearson?”
He looked sidewise quickly into the face of a tall black woman who smiled at him over a gate. Yard chock full of roses in no set pattern.
“Yes ma’am. Well, Ah thank yuh.”
“Thought Ah knowed yuh. Heard yuh preach one time at our church.”
“Pilgrim Rest Baptis’ Church?”
“Dat’s right. Dat wuz uh sermon! Come in.”
John was tired. He sat heavily upon the step.
“Don’t set on de do’ step. Elder, heah’s uh chear.”
“Iss all right, Sister, jus’ so Ahm settin’ down.”
“Naw, it ’tain’t. If you set on de steps you’ll git all de pains in de house. Ha, ha! Ah reckon you say niggers got all de signs and white folks got all de money.”
He sat in the comfortable chair she placed for him and surrendered his hat.
“You got tuh eat supper wid me, lessen you got somewhere puhticklar tuh go. Mah dead husband said you wuz de best preacher ever borned since befo’ dey built de Rocky Mountains.”
Rev. Pearson laughed a space-filling laugh and waited on her lead.
“You goin’ tuh be in our midst uh while?”
“Don’t know, Sister—er—”
“Sister Lovelace. Knowed you wouldn’t know me. Maybe you would eben disremember mah husband, but Ah sho is glad tuh have yuh in our midst. ’Scuse me uh minute whilst Ah go skeer yuh up suppin’ tuh eat.”
She bustled inside but popped out a moment later with a palm-leaf fan.
“Cool yo’self off, Rev’und.”
She was back in a few minutes with a pitcher clinking with ice.
“Have uh cool drink uh water, Elder—mighty hot. Ain’t aimin’ tuh fill yuh up on water, ha! ha! jes’ keepin’ yuh cool ’til it git done.”
From the deep porch, smothered in bucket flowers the street looked so different. The world and all seemed so different—it seemed changed in a dream way. “Maybe nothin’ ain’t real sho ’nuff. Maybe ’tain’t no world. No elements, no nothin’. Maybe wese jus’ somewhere in God’s mind,” but when he wiggled his tired toes the world thudded and throbbed before him.
“Walk right intuh de dinin’-room and take uh chear, Rev’und. Right in dis big chear at de head uh de table. Maybe you kin make uh meal outa dis po’ dinner Ah set befo’ yuh, but yuh know Ahm uh widder woman and doin’ de bes’ ah kin.”