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He was about 6'10", and weighed probably close to 300 lbs, but wasn't the least bit flabby. And when you talk about a "black" man -- Pastor Brown was BLACK. And HUGE. And one of my best friends. I was just a young preacher boy.
I would see him at the Hospital when we were visiting our respective congregants, and he would call my name and rush over to hug me, wrapping his big arms around me to where I felt like I disappeared into his suit. He would suddenly realize he was talking WAY too loud "in a hospital zone"
and he would quiet himself down and ask about my wife, my family, my church, my health.... and he knew my wife and kids by name, and always asked about them by name. And I would ask about his wife, who I was taught to call "Mamma", and his Church, and his kids....
He was a brother.
I remember when his Church was having "Dedication Day", and he invited me to come preach. He kidded me, "You KNOW that if you don't preach for at least an hour, them folk will feel CHEATED". He was quite an educated man, but he loved kidding me with "poor black man" language. He asked me to bring my choir, including our young folk. I did.
As he stood in his pulpit, welcome the various guests and dignitaries, MY group was seated in the first three rows at the front, immediately to his left. About 40 white folk in a congregation of about 450 black folk. Pastor Brown had fun. He put his hand up to his forehead, as if he were shutting out the glare and searching the horizon, and he began to slowly explain..... "I'm looking... for.. Pastor CP's Church is here somewhere... I wonder could they raise their hands so I can see them in the crowd. Sure enough, my group raised their hands and waved "we're over here", (I ducked) and Pastor Brown played along --- "AH YES, THERE they are...."
He was a riot.
When my turn came, I began to preach. I was BRAND NEW in the ministry, and I saw Pastor Brown as my mentor. It didn't take long to figure out that, when I said something the congregation liked, they yelled it back to me, and I repeated it, and they yelled it back -- sometimes 3 or 4 times in a row. It didn't take much at all for a 20 minute sermon to unfold into an hour and 20 minutes. I was having the time of my life, they were loving it, I was loving it.... but there was a hiccup!
About 15 minutes into my sermon, a woman in the back of the room "got the spirit", and began screaming and shaking and jumping up and down, and waving her arms around... remember, I was BRAND NEW to preaching --- it caught me totally off guard, and I just stopped and stared. I glanced over at Pastor Brown who was getting out of his pew, and he stepped over to the pulpit, put his arm around me, and just pointed and nodded to a couple of his deacons. They gently took this lady, and steered her out the back door, still screaming and gyrating.
It got real quiet, and I was totally lost as to where I was in my sermon. Speechless. I must have looked quite surprised, and Pastor Brown said one of the most profound things I have ever heard concerning the Holy Spirit -----
"The Holy Spirit don't NEVER interrupt Hisself." Then he put his arm around me and said, "please, Brother, go back to preachin'".
I looked at my Bible, trying to remember where I was, and Pastor Brown reached around, and put his huge black finger down on my Bible an the appropriate verse, and said, "you were RIGHT here, brother ... carry on!". And I did. And it turned out GREAT.
I often thought of him as a Paul to me as a Timothy. A man full of dignity, warmth, life, love, joy... and a GREAT man to be around.
I remember prayer meetings with him at 6 AM on Tuesdays, and seeing this giant of a man on his knees, and hearing that big deep rich voice with such grand reverence, saying "Massuh... you know we are here before you as your humble servants....."
At 89 years old, last Sunday he preached his last sermon about Glory, and THIS Sunday began walking the Golden Streets.
I would see him at the Hospital when we were visiting our respective congregants, and he would call my name and rush over to hug me, wrapping his big arms around me to where I felt like I disappeared into his suit. He would suddenly realize he was talking WAY too loud "in a hospital zone"
and he would quiet himself down and ask about my wife, my family, my church, my health.... and he knew my wife and kids by name, and always asked about them by name. And I would ask about his wife, who I was taught to call "Mamma", and his Church, and his kids....He was a brother.
I remember when his Church was having "Dedication Day", and he invited me to come preach. He kidded me, "You KNOW that if you don't preach for at least an hour, them folk will feel CHEATED". He was quite an educated man, but he loved kidding me with "poor black man" language. He asked me to bring my choir, including our young folk. I did.
As he stood in his pulpit, welcome the various guests and dignitaries, MY group was seated in the first three rows at the front, immediately to his left. About 40 white folk in a congregation of about 450 black folk. Pastor Brown had fun. He put his hand up to his forehead, as if he were shutting out the glare and searching the horizon, and he began to slowly explain..... "I'm looking... for.. Pastor CP's Church is here somewhere... I wonder could they raise their hands so I can see them in the crowd. Sure enough, my group raised their hands and waved "we're over here", (I ducked) and Pastor Brown played along --- "AH YES, THERE they are...."
He was a riot.
When my turn came, I began to preach. I was BRAND NEW in the ministry, and I saw Pastor Brown as my mentor. It didn't take long to figure out that, when I said something the congregation liked, they yelled it back to me, and I repeated it, and they yelled it back -- sometimes 3 or 4 times in a row. It didn't take much at all for a 20 minute sermon to unfold into an hour and 20 minutes. I was having the time of my life, they were loving it, I was loving it.... but there was a hiccup!
About 15 minutes into my sermon, a woman in the back of the room "got the spirit", and began screaming and shaking and jumping up and down, and waving her arms around... remember, I was BRAND NEW to preaching --- it caught me totally off guard, and I just stopped and stared. I glanced over at Pastor Brown who was getting out of his pew, and he stepped over to the pulpit, put his arm around me, and just pointed and nodded to a couple of his deacons. They gently took this lady, and steered her out the back door, still screaming and gyrating.
It got real quiet, and I was totally lost as to where I was in my sermon. Speechless. I must have looked quite surprised, and Pastor Brown said one of the most profound things I have ever heard concerning the Holy Spirit -----
"The Holy Spirit don't NEVER interrupt Hisself." Then he put his arm around me and said, "please, Brother, go back to preachin'".
I looked at my Bible, trying to remember where I was, and Pastor Brown reached around, and put his huge black finger down on my Bible an the appropriate verse, and said, "you were RIGHT here, brother ... carry on!". And I did. And it turned out GREAT.
I often thought of him as a Paul to me as a Timothy. A man full of dignity, warmth, life, love, joy... and a GREAT man to be around.
I remember prayer meetings with him at 6 AM on Tuesdays, and seeing this giant of a man on his knees, and hearing that big deep rich voice with such grand reverence, saying "Massuh... you know we are here before you as your humble servants....."
At 89 years old, last Sunday he preached his last sermon about Glory, and THIS Sunday began walking the Golden Streets.