Questing Parson

An Interesting Stranger

It was one of those days, cold but not heavy jacket cold, rainy but just a slowly, dripping mist. The parson and his faithful canine companion were on a morning walk. The breeze blew. No, the wind blew peppering the back of the parson's neck with the wet cold of the morning. He pulled the hood of his jacket up over the baseball hat. Charlie Brown paused on his walk to take inventory with his nose of other canines who may have passed that way. Inventory complete, he reclaimed the area as his own and the two proceeded.

Charlie Brown stopped just as he was about to turn a corner. His tail wagged slowly. The parson stepped up beside him. There, about twenty yards away, stood another dog on a leash held by a bearded man in an aged poncho. The man was leaning against a fence eating a piece of what appeared to be beef jerky. Both Charlie Brown and the dog now strained against their leash seeking to greet each other.

“Morning,” said the man as the parson drew closer. “Fine looking dog there.”

“Thanks,” said the parson. “Same to you.”

Charlie Brown and the man's dog were now wagging their tails in unison and glad to see each other.

“What's your dog's name?” asked the man.

“Charlie Brown,” the parson said.

“Good name,” the man replied. “May I?” He held out a pack of beef jerky and pointed it toward the dogs.

“No problem,” the parson replied. “What's your dog's name?”

“I call him Guide Dog.” The man tossed a piece of jerky to both Charlie Brown and Guide Dog.

“Guide Dog?”

“Yep, Guide Dog. I know it's kinda a funny name. But he's my guide.”

“How's that?” the parson asked.

“It's like this,” the man replied. “I'm just an old wanderer, as you can see. I once had this old preacher tell me I needed some direction in my life. Well, the next morning after he'd said that I woke up beside the embers of my fire from the night before and there said this old dog. So, I decided to let him give me direction. So, I let him guide me along the way. That's how he got his name. He guides me.”

“You just go where the dog goes.”

“Well, pretty much. I mean, I don't let him go places where he shouldn't go, but other than that if he wants to take a left at the intersection we take a left.” He pulled the jerky out of the pouch on his belt again, extracted a piece for himself and held the packet out to the parson. “Want some?”

“No, thanks,” the parson said. “How long have you had Guide Dog?”

“We've been road buddies for about three years now.”

Guide Dog had made his way to the parson's side. He knelt down and began to pet him. Charlie Brown came to stand between the parson and the visiting canine, allowing the parson to continue petting but making sure Guide Dog understood who belonged to whom.

The man spoke, “You're the parson, aren't you?”

The parson stood, puzzled. “Yes, that's what folks call me. How'd you know?”

“Well, I asked the clerk at that store over there,” he pointed over his shoulder, “where I could find a motel that would welcome Guide Dog. He said he didn't know but you would. He told me you'd be walking Charlie Brown down this way. So me and Guide Dog came looking for you.”

The parson asked, “What's your name?”

“Henry,” said the man stretching his hand out to shake.

“You're needing a place to stay?”

“I am,” said the man. “Oh, wait a minute. I'm sorry. We're not asking for a handout. I'm sorry. No, I just need to know if there's a hotel that won't mind if Guide Dog stays in the room. We need to get in out of this rain, My iPhone says it's going to rain for two more days. And, truth is, I need a good hot shower myself.”

“The La Quinta will let the dog stay,” said the parson. “Are you sure there's no way I can assist you.”

“Parson,” the man said, “look, I've got plenty of money. I've got some investments and they should keep me and Guide Dog well fed and healthy for as long as we want. Look, Parson, we just are outdoor creatures. We like wandering this way. But every once in a while we take a break and act like civilized folks.”

The parson told him where the La Quinta was located.

“How about a meal later?” the parson asked.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Henry, “but only if it's my treat.”

The parson and Henry agreed on lunch the following day. As they walked away, the parson said to Charlie Brown, “There's a story there, Charlie Brown.”

Source of the Story

Jim Wages, pastor of the Flickering Light Upon the Hill Worship Fellowship, and Bill Elder, pastor of the Moving Toward a New Beginning House of the Traditional Gospel, the parson and a couple of other brothers of the faith were gathered at the local dispenser of over priced coffee. Brothers Jim and Bill had invited the others because they wanted a visible presence of the clergy where the more youthful set gathered. It was an opportunity to “be real,” Jim had said. The parson was there by accident. He'd stopped to meet a church member; the member had left and the parson was sucked into the gathering as he completed an email on his laptop before leaving.

Brother Elder was talking. “Anyway, Gertrude, our custodian, was cleaning the sanctuary. She'd only been with us maybe three months. So, because we were having a special service that night she turned the heat on. Well, we've got these vents or pipes or something that make this weird noise when they system starts up. I tell you that was one scared woman. She couldn't decide if it was the devil of the Spirit.”

The group laughed at the story. One of the others spoke up, 'Hey, have any of you guys heard about Jessie Connors. What in the world got into him. He preached one morning and that afternoon before the evening service he just up and resigned. Not a word to anybody. You have to wonder what was going on.

The group began to speculate on what possibly had gotten into Jessie Connors. The parson made note the comments were more gossip than concern. When the last scandalous conjecture had been articulated they turned to other matters.

“Bill, who's things going on your new campus?” asked Jim.

“We're really blessed,” said Bill. “I think we'll be able to move in by the early fall. We had to make a few cuts in the program to get there, but get there we will.”

“Well, I hope you'll give us a tour when it's complete. Maybe we could get the ministerial association to meet there one Wednesday.”

“We could arraange that,” said Bill.

Following this someone asked if the brethren felt called to provide some leadership in getting their congregations to be more assertive in the elections in 2012. This brought on an anitmated discussion of the church's need to make sure their shared Christian values were evident in the voting booth.

The parson had listened with politeness, a politeness of his being hemmed into the corner because of where he'd been sitting. He decided he'd had enough and stood, excused himself and began to step over some outstretched legs.

“Before you go, Parson,” Jim Wages said, “I was reading some of your stories the other day. Where in the world do you get all those ideas?”

“Oh, Jim,” the parson replied, “it just seems the Lord leads me to them.”