was now twenty-two years old and had lived longer than any of the doctors thought he would. Most everyone concluded Scotty’s longevity correlated exactly with the will and determination of his parents, Cecil and especially Peggy, to keep Scotty alive. Inactivity had caused his weight to balloon, and it was now difficult to move him from bed to wheelchair, but Peggy and Cecil did it every day, bringing him to the garage during the week and making sure he was in church at Second Little Rock Baptist every week.
Scotty sat in his wheelchair at the front of the church, singing to himself under his breath. According to the doctors, Scotty could not see much more than outlines and shadows. Brother Bob spoke:
“Brothers and sisters, a few weeks ago we voted unanimously to accept Scotty Moore as a candidate for baptism.”
“Amen,” someone said.
“As you know, we generally practice believer’s baptism here by immersion, but the church council approved sprinkling as an appropriate mode in this case. I think they didn’t want me to drown Scotty in the baptistery!”
“I don’t wanna drown, Brother Bob,” Scotty said.
“You’re not going to Scotty,” Brother Bob reassured him. “I’m going to sprinkle the water on you. Scotty, do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?”
“Oh yes, Brother Bob!” Scotty began to sing his second favorite song, “Jesus loves me this I know. For the Bible tells me so.” The congregation joined in. “Little ones to him belong. They are weak and he is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. For the Bible tells me so.”
“Scotty, my brother in Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” Brother Bob sprinkled Scotty’s head with water, which proceeded to run down into his eyes. Scotty wiped his eyes and confessed that “the Holy Spirit done got into my eyes, Brother Bob.” Then he began to sing “Jesus Loves Me” again. When he finished, it seemed the Holy Spirit got into everybody’s eyes that day.
Ham cried, too, and marveled at what he witnessed. God has a special place in heaven for Scotty, Ham thought, and it meant a lot not just to Scotty’s family, but also to the church to be able to participate in publicly welcoming this child of God into the family. Second Little Rock Baptist Church had accepted members from other denominations “upon statement of faith” regardless of their mode of baptism ever since Brother Bob had been pastor. But folk who made a “profession of faith” in the church and “accepted Jesus into their hearts for the first time” were immersed. Ham received believer’s baptism by immersion when he was twelve years old. Scotty’s baptism was the first time anyone could remember at Second Little Rock when a new convert’s baptism was done by sprinkling. But nobody objected to the mode of Scotty’s baptism.
Nina had invited Wilson and Aunt Nora to join the MacPherson clan and Brother Bob for Sunday lunch. The family and Brother Bob were about to sit for lunch following the morning services, and Brother Bob excused himself to go to the bathroom. Everyone was horrified when Brother Bob re-entered the room, wet hands raised like a surgeon about to operate—Nina had forgotten to take the sign down!
“I didn’t want to die, so I didn’t know what to do,” Brother Bob said.
Nina looked horrified. “Ham, you didn’t take down the sign in the bathroom?”
“I forgot, Mama,” Ham said, realizing his mother’s warning, “Touch these towels and die!” written on an index card, must still be hanging on the bathroom mirror.
“I’m so sorry Brother Bob. It’s hard to keep the house clean for guests when you have four children,” she said, cutting a glance over at Thom Jeff, who had not attended services but did manage to put on a clean shirt and pair of trousers in place of his usual faded jeans.
“Don’t worry about it, Nina. Everything is fine,” Brother Bob said and smiled.
Aunt Nora was looking forward to finding out more about this unusual pastor and how he ended up back in North Wilkesboro, so while they were eating, Aunt Nora began her inquisition.
“So Brother Bob, Mama and Daddy tell me you are from around here? I wonder why I don’t remember you. Honey Ham, would you pass those green beans, suga’. They are delicious, Mama.” Ham passed the beans, and Aunt Nora dipped a few on her plate, all the while looking intently at Brother Bob.
“Well, I was a few years behind you in school, but I remember you Nora.” Nora was hard to forget. Head cheerleader. Winter Waltz Queen. And, even at fifty-two, still a good-looking woman.
“Oh that’s right, you were big buddies with the Brookshire twins, right?”
“That’s right. Jimmy and J. B., and there was Rick Sutton, too. We all went to UNC together. J. B. is the reason I ended up back here.”
“Well, you’ve all done quite well for yourselves. I believe I remember that you were a Morehead scholar?” Brother Bob nodded. Nora continued. “And now J. B. is a successful lawyer and helps run the Brookshire Furniture company. Jimmy teaches English at the college and is an aspiring author with a growing audience, I hear. Did I hear that Rick Sutton recently became the Sports Commissioner of the Atlantic Coast Conference?”
“You did indeed.”
“Chapel Hill is a small place,” Aunt Nora smiled. “Did you go to seminary after UNC?”
“Yes, I went to Yale Divinity School.”
“That’s impressive. And Mama said you got a doctorate there too?”
“Yes, in Christian ethics.”
“But the church folk here call you ‘Brother Bob’ instead of ‘Dr. Sechrest’?” Aunt Nora asked.
“Oh I know why that is,” Ham volunteered. “In one of his sermons, Brother Bob told the story of a man who used to travel once a year to hunt coons. From a local hunter, he borrowed a dog called ‘Preacher’ who was the best huntin’ dog in the county. One year he returned and asked for Preacher and the owner said that they didn’t have a dog by that name anymore. ‘Did he die?’ the man asked. ‘No,’ he said, ‘he’s still here, but you don’t want him.’ ‘Why not?’ the man said. ‘Well, a city slicker came through the year before and started callin’ the dog “Doctor” instead of Preacher, and the dog hadn’t been worth a darn ever since.’ So we took it from that story that Brother Bob preferred to be called ‘brother’ rather than ‘doctor.’”
“And you took it the right way, Ham!” Bob said and smiled.
Grandma Cornelia picked up the conversation. “Brother Bob studied with a very famous theologian. What was his name Brother Bob?”
“Richard Niebuhr. Yes, he was very influential, though most folk in the churches haven’t heard of him.”
Cornelia laughed and said. “I remember what Mabel Sturgill asked you when you met with the pulpit committee.”
“Were you on the pulpit committee, Grandma?” Ham asked. He didn’t know that or had forgotten it.
“Well, yes I was. Anyhow, Mabel said to Brother Bob, ‘Who did you study with at Yale?’ As if she would have recognized anybody’s name. When Brother Bob said ‘Richard,’ what was it?”
“Niebuhr,”
