Our long-time pastor and friend, Calvin Maberry, is now home with Jesus. He left his earth suit and went home on Friday morning. If you do not know this man of God, let me tell you about him.
I met him the first time I went to Hamlin Church with Cindy. She was raised in that congregation, and he and his wife, Arlene, had worked with the youth and became their pastor a few years before. I instantly liked Calvin and Arlene, even if she told me I better not hurt my new girlfriend.
Their family lived outside of Willard, MO, and their three kids were Cindy’s friends. My future wife was a fifteen-year-old, and Arlene was her Sunday School teacher. This may be the reason that I was given the warning. I was a junior in college at the time.
Calvin became a mentor to me as I negotiated my way through college as a ministerial student. They were at our wedding and supported us for the last fifty-plus years as we attended many classes that they were part of.
My first opportunity to officiate at a wedding took place while we were living in Joplin, MO. Calvin advised me on common ceremonies and problems I might have. The pastor of the bride was not someone I knew, and I felt more comfortable with Brother Maberry than our pastor in Joplin.
Years later, when I was asked to officiate at my first funeral, Pastor Calvin was there for me as well. He gave me some sage advice that I have heard from him often. Follow what you believe the Lord wants you to do, and follow what the family asks you to do. Other ministers I knew told me before other funerals what were different opinions of what should be done.
When Calvin decided to announce his retirement as our pastor, we spoke about it before it was announced to the church. I was the Chairman of the Deacon body and would be responsible for helping that group lead the congregation through the transition period.
I was the one who asked him to allow the church to bestow the title of Pastor Emeritus on him when we celebrated his term as our under shepherd. I felt like I was fighting an uphill battle to convince him to accept that honor. Life at the church changed a great deal after that.
For a few years, we saw him and Arlene occasionally at church, but bumped into them at many other places. They always asked how we were getting along and how the girls were. They were always the adoptive grandparents to the kids at Hamlin.
When Arlene was fighting the Illness that ultimately took her life, Calvin was scheduled for bypass surgery. I had just gone through that operation and tried to encourage him that it was difficult, but the Lord would see him through it. I remember that he told me that if it were not for Arlene needing him, he would not have had the surgery. He was ready to go home.
Now that he is there with her, his savior and Lord, and all those that still call him pastor Calvin and friend, I am continuing to look forward to the day that Christ says welcome home to me as well. I know that we are there together, even though some do not realize it, yet.
I began in ‘Fifty Years Ago’ by telling you about where I was in 1975. I found myself in the city of Gifford, Pennsylvania. I was serving as a summer missionary and had a family for the summer that was not my birth family. I told you about Phil, Marriane, and Mary Anne. Let me tell you about the rest of the family.
Down the road lived Skip, also known as Phil, Jr., and his wife and children. Somewhat further away was David, his wife, and their child. I could walk to these two homes from the old house where I was staying. Phil and Marianne had moved into a house that was scheduled for demolition, rather than building a new house on the family property, as their two sons had done.
Also on the property was a mobile sanctuary for Hilltop Baptist Chapel. It was a modified trailer house provided by the Southern Baptist Home Mission Board. That summer, I learned a great deal about what HMB did for the ministries that were under their auspices.
The pastor at Bolivar Road Baptist in Bradford served at Hilltop as well as the home church. For that summer, he did not have to skip Sunday School to drive up the mountain to preach first, then back down for their services. I preached Sunday Mornings, led a Bible Study Sunday Night, and a prayer meeting on Wednesday night.
Included in our ministries, mine and my fellow summer missionaries, were Vacation Bible School and revivals at these two churches, as well as two other churches that our youth groups went to for the summer months.
On Sunday Nights, I went to help the youth choir at Bolivar Road. The ladies were leading and joining the youth. I joined them as well. For the first week. The second week, I was asked to talk with the ladies before practice. They asked me not to sing with the choir. So, I helped off stage and behind the scenes. I have told people for fifty years that I am the only person I know who was asked to leave a youth choir.
Fortunately, I already knew that I could not carry a tune in a bucket. I learned that in the sixth grade, our new music teacher took four of us aside for special training to help us sing on key. After six months, she gave up on two of us. She decided nothing she did would help us,
Back on the mountain, I would walk a trail into the trees whenever I had spare time. During the day, I took my Bible with me and would study where God was the only one to teach me. I’ve been letting Him do that for me for fifty years now.
At night, when I walked into the trees, I was careful to stay on the trail, only to go a few feet in. Having spent a lot of time on farms in Missouri, I was not your ordinary city boy. I have milked cows, plucked chickens, and picked many different fruits, vegetables, and berries. After the woods were engulfed in darkness, the stars shining through the trees were beautiful.
It is difficult to condense ten weeks into a couple of columns. Look for the true story of an Ozarks boy in the land of Yankees in the next report. See you then.
Some of you would say that you lost another friend. Carl is not lost. He hasn’t been lost since he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior around the time I was born. I know he is in the presence of God which we often refer to as Heaven.
Carl and I had many conversations about Jesus and Heaven over the forty plus years that we have known each other. I met him when I joined Hamlin Memorial Baptist Church. He was our deacon for years.
He recruited me to lead Church Training classes and recommended me for the position when he stepped down. We served on the BTN committee at church for its short-lived tour. The Greene County Baptist Association joined this organization which provided training materials to churches and associations.
He was my mentor in the deacon ministry when I was first ordained. A few years later when he was the chairman of the deacon body, he asked me to be the assistant chairman. This meant I would be the next chairman. Thanks to Carl I got the pleasure of leading the congregation during the retirement of our friend and pastor.
His son Greg worked for my wife before she had our first daughter. Carl and Harriett became surrogate grandparents for our children when we moved into their neighborhood. For almost twenty years we remained neighbors and would visit them while Harriett was homebound.
As our deacon he joined me in the waiting room when Cindy had surgeries. We ministered together with the other deacons and leaders in the church. The stories I remember are too numerous to recount here. I’ll share one that very few know about.
Greg was working in Kansas City when a walkway collapsed at the hotel where he was employed. It was a story that hit our local news. We called Carl and Harriett and asked if they had heard from their son. They had a call from him. He was fine.
While they were dealing with Harriett’s health issues, I was often his sounding board. We did not live far from each other and before Carl had to stay home with her, I saw him at church every week. We had an agreement that nothing we said to each other would ever be repeated.
I used to say that I would see friends in Heaven when I arrived there some day. Today Jesus’ words have led me to believe that we are already there. It is not like we drop into God’s presence when we accept Christ. Being outside of time, He has us with Him even before our death on this planet. I know that sounds strange. Trust Him and you are with those you love who trust Him as well.
That’s correct. Mrs. Peale was a shoutin’ Baptist. You’ve never heard of that? Had you been raised in a church with a shoutin” Baptist, you would have heard of it. I don’t remember the first time I heard her shout or the last time. She did not shout every Sunday or at both the morning and evening services.
That is the thing about a shoutin’ Baptist. You don’t know when they will let loose. On several occasions I sat next to someone who did not know about Mrs. Peale. It was such fun to see the look on a visitor’s face. You never seem to react the same the second time it happened.
There was the girl I was dating who was an Assembly of God member. Mrs. Peale let loose the one Sunday she was there with me. I had attended her church, and no one had spoken in tongues or prophesied during the service. They were calm and quiet like you expect Baptists to be.
Then there was Mrs. Peale. Trudy said that we were too wild for her taste. This was just one more case of my being shown who wasn’t the one. Cindy wasn’t scared off by her. Thank you, Mrs. Peale.
Why did she shout? I suspect it is like most of us. If something excites you enough, you must vocalize it. This happens often at sporting events. Fans just shout because of the action around them. That is what triggers shouters, I believe. They are so caught up in the presence of God that they must let go.
Are there times that God speaks to you during worship, or because of hearing a song, or through something someone says? I began experiencing this after I accepted a call to the ministry while in college. When did you first feel this passion for Christ?
What did she shout? It was not always the same thing. Sometimes Hallelujah or amen. Often, we could not tell what she was saying. Hopefully she wasn’t speaking in tongues. This was a “Baptist” church in the 1960’s.
Emotion in worship was not something that we were known for. We believe in spiritual gifts. Most of us were not given the gift of speaking in tongues. Giving, prophecy, service was always big. As was hospitality. When I first realized that one of my gifts was discernment, I could not believe that I was given the ability to determine if people were honest or had an ulterior motive.
As I age, I wonder if I will become a shouter. Do you get to the point where you just get so wrapped up in worship and you forget where you are and who might be offended? Be ready in case this happens. I hope I won’t scare you too much the first time I do it.
Charles (Chuck) Kensinger 