Ministry Moments:
Drano Dissolved
by Lynn Ridenhour
I was blessed to be mentored by a country Baptist
preacher who knew God. Brother J.I. Willard was a farmer-turned-preacher. And
I lived in his basement while studying for the ministry at William Jewell
College in Liberty, MO.
Brother Willard told me one day how he became a preacher. As said, he was a
farmer. A pig farmer. And perfectly content to be one. He had no aspirations
of certainly becoming a preacher. But the Lord had other plans. Brother
Willard told me of his struggles with God, how he wrestled with the call. His
excuse was "…but Lord, I’m just a farmer. I can’t even remember
what I’ve read when I read your Word…"
But the tug of the call would never leave.
Finally, one night while asleep in his bed with his wife, Bertha, by his
side, a tap on his shoulder awakened him. Startled, he opened his eyes and
turned over. Two angels were in his room, one standing at the foot of his bed,
the other by his side. The angel nearest him placed his hand on Brother
Willard’s right shoulder and said, "…preach the gospel…" Then
the angels left.
The next morning, Brother Willard, while reading his Bible, noticed that he
was capable of remembering large portions of scripture. Bertha was in the
kitchen fixing breakfast. Brother Willard walked into the room, shut his
Bible, and quoted entire chapters to her.
That was the answer he needed. He later told me, "…Lynn, my right
shoulder burned for weeks where the angel touched me."
I met Brother Willard when he was the pastor of Six-Mile Baptist Church
located on the outskirts of a small sleepy town just 15 miles from Liberty
called Buckner. The church, Six-Mile, got its name for being on the edge of a
six-mile peace treaty established between Fort Osage soldiers nearby and the
Indians back in the early to mid-eighteen hundreds. As long as soldiers and
Indians remained within the six-mile radius, peace was kept. It was a six-mile
no-fighting zone. Thus, Six-Mile Baptist Church.
Brother Willard mentored me well. I especially remember the all-night
prayer meetings. The farmer-turned-preacher was a praying man. He believed in
the old-fashioned "praying through." Praying until you were sure in
your heart that God had heard and answered your prayer. Many times Brother
Willard and I would spend the night in the church house, not leaving until we
had "prayed through." The first week of every New Year the two of us
packed our belongings, carried our sleeping bags to the church and camped out
in the building for one week--fasting and praying the entire week for our
members and our families. We never left the building. I must say, there were
those special moments when God came to us.
One day Brother Willard received a call from a panic-stricken mother who
was a member. Her five year-old son had just gotten under the kitchen cabinets
and had drunk a half a bottle of Drano. She was hurrying her way to the
emergency room when she called. Brother Willard and I hopped in his car and
hurried to meet her. When we arrived they had just rushed Bobby, her son, into
the emergency room. She insisted the doctors permit her pastor to pray over
her son. Brother Willard simply laid his huge farmer hands over Bobby’s
throat and said a simple prayer, "…Lord, please heal Bobby and
protect him from all harm…"
The emergency room physicians immediately began examining the young lad and
found no damage had occurred. The Drano miraculously passed through Bobby’s
system without injury or harm. The doctors didn’t even pump his stomach.
Bobby’s throat was not even scarred or damaged.
The young lad was sent home that afternoon. The Drano had dissolved. And I
just witnessed a miracle from the farmer-turned-preacher.
