Thursday, October 02, 2014

Gray day. Yesterday was a raining morning, afternoon was sunny and muggy hot.

I was with the Pastor of the local Nazarene church yesterday, just to find out what kind of weirdo would wish to be a Pastor. We got to talking about his experiences as a Pastor.

It appears that he was in Appalachia and ministered to the unemployed and destitute. For whatever meaning destitute has meaning in the American system. He was not, he maintained, of the area, however his wife was. His ministry was both in the chapel and in the streets. Meaning, he says, that he held formal services on the normal days of the week in the chapel, but that he was on the streets, in the soup  kitchens and dope gatherings ministering to the folks.

He explained that he left, not of his choosing, but of necessity. His church, it seemed, received a very substantial behest and the hierarchy of the church wanted that money in their coffers.

The lawyer for the bequeathed was very good because no one from various agencies, including the State AG found a way of moving that money from the local church to the church’s upper levels. The Pastor I was talking with said he left after a time, tiring of the fight, and sought other  pastures to run a flock of sheep upon.

He indicated that he was much more suited to tending his congregation than fighting with others over money that was already in the church’s coffers. Looking about he found my area and decided that was a good thing for he and his family.

I asked him if he knew what a Pyrenees dog  was. He said he didn’t. I told him it was a sheep dog generally turned into a flock and lived as a sheep until protection was needed,, then the dog turned fighter and took on the danger to the flock, though the dog wasn’t a herd dog of any type, just followed and mingled until the flock needed him.

He asked me what that had to do with the conversation we were conducting and I pointed out his actions made him a Pyrenees minister rather than a Pastor Minister one who stayed in the sanctum and dispensed THE word, never really being of the flock – rather like the Shepard riding the wagon watching the flock and the dogs.

I thought that was a lot of words to try describing a concept that seemed foreign and yet intrinsic within this particular Pastor.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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