Ministry Moments:
The cross-eyed boy
by Lynn Ridenhour
One Sunday morning I awoke and the Spirit said, "…I
want you to go hear Brother Carpenter preach." Almost simultaneously
my friend Frank Wilson pulls up in front of the house and honks his horn. I
stick my head out the door.
"…Lynn, you want to go with me this morning to hear Brother
Carpenter?"
I quickly get dressed, knowing that God surely has something in store.
Brother Carpenter was one of the most interesting persons I had ever met.
First of all, he was an excellent carpenter. And second, he didn’t know how
to read or write. He was a third-grade drop out. When he was growing up, he
had to work in the fields with the rest of his brothers. His parents were poor
farmers.
There are those in life that you run across who remind you of children.
Brother Carpenter had a child’s heart in a man’s body. He had an innocence
about him. I never will forget his telling me how he learned to read the
Bible. As I said, he could not read; he could only read the Bible.
Brother Carpenter had a big heart and he loved God with every ounce of it.
He told me how he used to lie in front of the fireplace as a young man late at
night after everyone was asleep, pleading with God to teach him how to read.
He wanted in the worst way to learn how to read God’s word. He had felt the
call to preach but he couldn’t read. Brother Carpenter told me one day, "…Lynn,
I was laying in front of the fireplace one night. I opened the Bible and I
could read it. But I can’t read anything else…"
I know for a fact he couldn’t read. A few times he asked me to help him
build a house. Someone else had to read the blueprints. But I also heard him
read more than once, though not with precision, from the Bible as he was
preaching.
This morning I was going to hear this man who portrayed humility like none
else. He would break the Bread of Life to us.
Brother Carpenter was preaching way out in the country. Frank drove through
the winding roads and we finally pulled up into the church parking lot. Just
in time for worship service. I could hear singing. There’s just something
about country folks. They had Frank and me up front giving our testimonies, we
led in prayer, and Brother Carpenter preached. After the service was over no
one wanted to leave. We must have stood around in the church house for close
to an hour after the service was over. I must have shaken hands with everyone
two or three times.
While I was standing in the aisle near the doorway, I kept eyeing a little
redheaded, freckle-faced lad. He wouldn’t leave my side. Frank and I walked
out the door and were mingling out on the church lawn. The young lad was still
under my feet. He couldn’t have been over eight years old.
I looked down at him, finally giving him my undivided attention, and
noticed his eyes were crossed. Without even thinking, I placed my hand over
his eyes and said, "…Jesus, please heal his eyes…" then
took my hand down. His eyes were perfectly straight! The young lad started
running in circles. He wasn’t used to seeing with his eyes not crossed. It
took him a while to get his bearings.
It took him but a few minutes and he was playing with the rest of the
children.
