The Belton Years (1)

Starting our First Joint Full Time Ministry Together

We moved to Belton, Texas in March of 1960.  Youth ministry was my primary assignment although the title “youth minister” was yet to be coined. The pulpit was vacant at that time, and since I had two years of full time pulpit experience under my belt, I was asked to assume the pulpit role on an interim basis.   Knowing what I know now, I realize just how big a risk the elders were taking back them. 

We had not been living in Belton long enough to get phone service when one of the deacons came to the house while we were having breakfast one morning.  He was not a bearer of good news.  He came to tell us that a nineteen year old girl, a member of the congregation, had just been killed in a car wreck.  He asked if we would go by and check on the family.    We took the time to shower and dress. I put on a black suit, and Ann put on a black dress.  When we arrived, we realized how foolish we had been.   People had come from work to call on the family, and were already there pitching in and helping doing what they could to help the family in their loss.  None of them were dressed in funeral clothes.  The women wore plain dresses and the men had on work clothes.   We never made that mistake again.

Somehow God used us in that situation, and we gained the respect of that family and the congregation.   One of our challenges was that of trying to help young people cope with a tragedy that involved a young lady who was very near their own age.  It was emotionally hard for them to get through the songs, but they were real troopers.

We had a rather large youth group.  I had about 30 in my senior high Bible class, and we probably had another 20 or so who were in junior high.  The church leaders wanted me to do what I could to interest the young people in singing, and they saw the funeral as an opportunity to bring the young people into a comforting role by singing at the funeral.  Most of the kids had surprisingly good voices, and it wasn’t difficult get them in shape to sing for this very sad event.

Tom Ruble, a preacher whom I had known when I was at Rosebud, was asked to conduct the funeral.  Tom was one of the most people loving persons I’ve ever known.  If there were ever two people with servant hearts, it was Tom and Vera Ruble.  Tom was the kind of guy who knew when people were hurting, and had the ability to sense things that weren’t always out in the open.

He called on me a couple of days after the funeral and told me about a brother who had grown lax in his attendance.  He said the death of this young woman had a profound effect on him, and wanted to know if I would drop by and visit.   Ann and I went to visit he and his wife.   We thought it best to spend our first time of visitation with him just trying to get acquainted  We immediately fell in love with the man and his wife.  I never mentioned church attendance to him, but we bonded instantly.

Sometime that week our telephone was installed, and he called me on Saturday night.  He said, “Norman, I’m coming back.”  He continued to be my friend the rest of his life.  Shortly after his death, I preached in a meeting in Belton.  Thirty years had passed since that Saturday night telephone call.   I didn’t have a car with me during that time, but his wife still had his old “fishing” car.  She loaned me the car and said, “I know he would want you to drive it.”

There have been many experiences like that in my career as a minister of the gospel, and they are the memories that I treasure the most.  When you’re dealing with people who have wandered from their moorings, two things are important (1) time and (2) presence.   Rarely does anything you say make a difference, but time together makes a huge difference.