Just a Thought Not a Sermon: Biscuits

“BISCUITS”

Biscuits, Coke-Cola, Tennessee and an “Ole Baptist preacher led me to find a relationship with God. No kidding it’s a part of my spiritual journey.

As families go, I didn’t know my grandpa on my father’s side. He wasn’t a feely, touchy person. I can remember sitting next to him on the couch one time. He sat ramrod straight, starched white shirt, black pants with suspenders, black pointy shoes that he would wear on Sundays. He had a white handlebar mustache. He reminded me of the portrait of the farmer in American Gothic. He was stoic and humorless and I thought he was always staring at me. I remember him most for his love of chewing tobacco.

His favorite was Days of Work. As I sat next to him would cut off a plug and pop it in his mouth. I vividly remember the smell because the tobacco was laced with licorice.

My dad would make an annual visit to Elizabethton, Tennessee to visit grandpa. He lived in an old tin roofed farmhouse siting on a hill overlooking the main road. There were chickens in the yard for Sunday Dinner, a swing on the front porch and a well in the back of the house. When you went to bed at night there were chamber pots in each bedroom. Still, the worse part, my father had 17 brothers and sisters. Never remembered them all ever.

The bad deal, my father felt compelled to visit each one. It meant half a day at each house. We would always be fed and the central staple was homemade biscuits. Oh Boy, every time we moved on to another brother or
sister, more biscuits.

One of my dad’s sisters (Viola) married a Baptist preacher. In turn when we would visit their house I would beg to stay because I loved the man. Uncle
Hubert was his name. He had a sense of humor. When greeting him as he sat on his front porch, we asked him what he was doing. His response would be, “I am taking care of my wife’s husband” with a big smile on his face.

I would love to spend the night with them. Breakfast was an adventure. In my mind. At the table he looked at me and would ask, “What would you like?” before I could say anything, he offered me a Coke-Cola and a biscuit.

I’d never heard of that before. Being a religious man, he never talked about God. God came through his humor, his warmth and his outward love. Over the years I discovered God became relatable to me in a good way. Hubert helped me see the joy in being a God-Person. He didn’t have to preach.

I am thankful for Hubert’s life as a God-Person. Find joy today. Be a God-Person.

Just a Thought, Not a Sermon.