I
saw the movie “Selma” last Sunday evening. From things I saw on T.V. news and
read in the newspaper during those times, I cannot fault the historical
accuracy of the movie. I was not there. I moved to Selma eleven years later in
1978. But make no mistake, the events depicted in the movie multiplied and
hardened racial bias in the city. I had told the Lord that I didn’t any longer
wish to serve a church which was not open to blacks. Therefore, when a pulpit
committee from Selma came to invite me to come to their church, I refused their
offer. Six months later they came back and the Lord put it on my heart to go
check out the situation. While visiting the church and city I sat with the
twelve person Pulpit Committee and each one of them in turn assured me their
church was open to black members, even though they had none at that time. So I
felt free to accept their call to be pastor. There were two all white academies
in Selma, but we enrolled our girls in the public schools. This was a real
challenge to older daughter Julie whose junior high and high schools were
primarily black. She had to face a lot of black prejudice and bullying. Liz
taught in a public grade school.
A year after I moved to Selma, the “open door”
of the church was challenged. A widow with school aged children moved back to
Selma, her childhood home. She had met her husband at the local Air Force base.
He, as training instructor elsewhere, had been killed in a crash. Her children
had attended Southern Baptist Churches at the bases where their father had been
assigned. So the family began to participate fully in our church, especially
music, R.A.s and G.A.s. Immediately some within the church wanted to hold a
special business meeting to bar them from attendance. A special business
meeting was called on a Wednesday evening. Some of our members wanted open
membership, some did not but felt God wanted us to have it, and some were
radically opposed to it. On the night of the vote the attendance was double the
Sunday morning attendance. People who had membership in the church but hadn’t
attended in years materialized. The resulting vote was to ask the family to not
return. I vividly remember a precious
pre-school boy crying loudly when the vote was announced.
I needed to decide, do I
stay with the church or seek another? God led me to stay another four years as
an advocate for open membership. This I did. I was not confrontational, for
that in itself would have lost me the opportunity to change minds. But
preaching and teaching the Bible, I left no doubt that we, as a church, were
out of God’s will. I was able to counsel one on one with individual members.
Some came to understand despite their personal feelings, God is “no respecter
of persons.”
At
one point some of the deacons held a secret meeting, the purpose of which was
to get rid of me. They invited one young deacon who had formerly sided with
them, but with whom I had spent some time. I understand that when he arrived at
the meeting and discovered its purpose, he soundly rebuffed the other deacons
present and put some of them to shame. That ended their plan.
Liz and I spent those four years in perfect
peace, the peace that Jesus gave us. Actually it was a sense of spiritual euphoria. This was in spite of the
opposition we faced from some in the church and many in the area. We would sit
in the swing and. because of our spiritual euphoria, giggle at the situation.
We look back and agree that our five years in Selma were some of the happiest
of our lives. I sense that both girls think positively about them.
After five years I accepted
a call to a church in Pensacola. Our Selma church still did not have any black
members. I was told by one of the deacons that before they started looking for
another preacher the deacons had a meeting that lasted all night. They debated
the race issue back and forth. They came away from that meeting agreed that the
church would be open to black membership. We did not get the victory while we
were there, but we did ultimately get the victory.
Grace and peace.
