The Twelfth Epistle

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Gifton H. Jones,
Full Service Pastor.

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DATELINE: Sunday, January 21, 2001.
By Rev. James R. Bingham

Special to corndancer.com
Posted from Memphis, Tennessee

"When I came to Jerusalem, it was for a visit. I preached and the rest is history."

On several occasions I have taken a ride with Rev. Gifton H. Jones, pastor of Jerusalem Missionary Baptist Church in Memphis. Oftentimes, it was because I just wanted to be near the man. He has an accommodating personality. He just seems to get along with anyone. His ability to communicate is uncanny. It doesn't matter what level someone may be on, Rev. Jones has a way of conversing that inspires others to enjoy the experience.

Just recently I was sitting at my P.C., bored because the device is too old to do the things I want it to do. It takes sooooooo long to download programs or access the internet. Sometimes it just stops altogether. It doesn't have enough memory to hold any large programs.

Exasperated, I decided my time could be better spent, so I called Rev. Jones, saying that I wanted to go to a store to get a minor item. He said he was enjoying an old Western on TV, but he would be right on.

On this day I jumped into his truck. He drives it by choice. It's handy because he moves around so much, picking up this and that, stopping here and there, waving and greeting people along the way.

He Began By Telling Me
About the Nature of the Ice.

It was a Thursday near the end of the first week in the year 2001. The weather was changing, recovering from an early freeze-over. Ice clung doggedly to the ground in different spots. Rev. Jones kept up a running commentary on the weather and its aftermath, pointing out how the ice had persisted longest on the north side of houses, buildings and even fields.

We stopped at a store. Rev. Jones purchased some salt to melt the ice on the church parking lot. Then we drove to another store to find the items I wanted. While I was in the store, I looked out and saw that Rev. Jones had gotten out of the truck. I thought to myself, "Who has he hooked up with now?" When I came out he was talking to a gentlemen about his work and how it could be of some benefit to the church members. I didn't bother about getting all the details because I wanted to save my limited brain space for all the other things I wanted to ask him.

After we had done our shopping, Rev. Jones said he wanted to stop by the church. "Do you have time?"

"Yes, sir!" I replied happily. I'd hoped he would ask because I didn't have anything better to do. As we drove up to the church, I could see the ice on the church parking lot. Rev. Jones said, "This will probably melt away anyway, but this salt will help it along."

I asked a very unnecessary question, "This is the North side, isn't it?" There was a little silence. I realized that no matter how you look at it, the north side of the church, or any building, will always be on the north side. There's no wiggle room with this issue. Rev. Jones answered as if it was a question of vital importance. "Yeah," he said, "because the building blocks the sun. But this stuff will help get it on out of the way."

Thinking of Others,
He Spread the Salt
The Way a Farmer
Throws Feed to the Chickens.

He spread the salt. With a little help from my imagination, the leftover snow and ice began to melt right away. Even at that, Rev. Jones was not satisfied. His was concerned that someone might have a little difficulty parking. "It might not be a bother to you," he said, "but some of the older members might have a problem getting up to the door."

He continued to spread the salt the way a farmer throws feed to chickens. He was a sight to see: gloved hands, an insulated jacket, jeans, and a bibbed cap that has become somewhat of a trademark for him.

A white truck drove past the church. It pulled over. The driver, a young man dressed in contemporary style, got out and walked up the church driveway. "Sir?" he said to Rev. Jones in a very polite voice. "Would you take me to the gas station to get some gas?" He continued, "I guess I've run out of gas."

Rev. Jones answered without hesitation while continuing to spread the salt, "... do what we can."

He looked at me and said, "Would you mind taking my truck and getting the fellow some gas?"

The Holy Spirit Speaks.
Are You Listening? Can You Hear?

"I don't mind at all," I said. Rev. Jones was eyeing the young man. Another young man came up and began to chat with the one who had run out of gas. The way they greeted each other, it was obvious they were acquainted. The first young man kept receiving telephone calls on his cell phone. Rev. Jones said, "I'm going to need some more salt, come on." As he climbed into his truck he said to the young man. "We'll bring you some gas back with us. No charge."

As we drove off Rev. Jones pointed out, "The Lord will bless you for helping strangers, but you've got to listen to The Holy Spirit. Besides I needed to go and get some more salt."

This time we went to a hardware store. Everybody there knew Rev. Jones. "Hello, preacher," one and then another would say as he walked by them. Rev. Jones greeted them with his presence. He didn't need to say anything.

He told one of the helpers that he needed the salt to melt ice and they suggested a mixture that would work a little better. Rev. Jones purchased the items and we drove to the gas station to get the young man's gas. He spoke of how some people need help and that a pastor does it all. "I'm gone a lots, but I try to let people know that they can call me and I'll come and help them."

When we got back to the church, the young man met us in the driveway. I gave him the gas. He went to his truck and tried to get it started. Rev. Jones went right back to his farmer-like duty of spreading the ice-melting mixture over the parking lot.

I asked another brilliant question. "Can this stuff be spread without gloves?" Rev. Jones answered, "Don't worry about it. I've got this taken care of. Yeah, you'd need some gloves. I've already got a pair on that will do just fine."

Recollections of Our First Visit.

I recalled the first conversation Rev. Jones and I shared at the church. He had told me how he came to be the pastor of Jerusalem. He said he was on a vacation from a church that he was pastoring in Mississippi. By invitation, he came to Jerusalem to preach. "I didn't come looking for a church," he said. "I was asked to come out, so I did."

He continued, "When I came to Jerusalem, it was for a visit. I preached and the rest is history. The Holy Ghost filled the church that Sunday. The Lord knows who he wants to do what for his kingdom."

"Now, I've been here twelve years. Twelve good years," he continued. "There have been some things to get straight and some things I had to do, but The Lord has blessed us. This building was not here. The west end was the church. All this was built since I've been here."

A cement placard on the outside of the sanctuary tells about the founders. It's all a part of Rev. Jones' upkeep. He seems to take care of the whole church, building as well as members.

When we had that first conversation, we were inside the church, sweeping, mopping, and just checking to see what was needed to tidy up for Sunday service. We had already cleaned the church when the man's next pronouncement made me realize that Rev. Gifton H. Jones was in every respect a Full Service Pastor. He said, "The members would be pleased and feel good if we cleaned off and sort of cut down some of the grass in the church cemetery."

Wherever He Goes,
He Is Always Welcome.

On another occasion, Rev. Jones and I visited some of the older members, giving them gift certificates from the church. He said, "This is another way God will bless you. Sometimes members think you may have forgotten them because they can't get out to church the way they used to."

At one house, it took some time for the owners to answer the door. When they came and looked out, Rev. Jones said, "It's Pastor Jones!" The old man's spirit lit up, "Oh-h-h, Oh! Pastor Jones! Come in. My wife is in the back. She'll be so glad to see you." Glad she was. They began to talk of how things were. Rev. Jones showed genuine concern. The smiles on their faces showed that they felt his sincerity.

At the next house, it was much the same. It took a little time for the owner to come to the door. She was a lean, slender, dark complexioned woman. "It's Pastor Jones!" Rev. Jones called out. The woman's reaction was the same as at the other house. She told the Reverend that she was doing better and that her medication was fine. He assured her that he would always be there to help her, that he was just a phone call away.

The next visit was to a house that looked rather stately. "It's Jones!" Rev. Jones said. An elderly gentleman opened the door. He, too, was a Reverend Jones. He invited us in. They began talking about how they once traveled across the country, preaching the gospel. It turned out they had known each other for over twenty years. Even so, the old preacher was delighted to see Rev. Jones. He acted as if he was greeting a long lost son.

When we finished visiting people that day, I felt good. I felt like my time had passed in a truly meaningful way. Rev. Jones, on the other hand, was talking of more things he needed to do for other members.

I Snapped Out of My Reverie.

But wait a minute. Time is getting away from me. I'm standing on the parking lot now. I snapped out of my reverie, my daydreaming. Rev. Jones was saying, "You see how the ice is already melting? That'll make it safe."

I also noticed that the young men had driven off. I had a feeling that Rev. Jones kept an eye on them all the time.

He finished spreading the mixture and we got in the truck to drive off. As we went around to the south side of the church, we noticed that the pavement was visibly soaked. Water was running from a door leading to the church basement.

"I wonder what that is? " Rev. Jones said.

It didn't matter to me. I knew we were about to embark on another venture that would end up showing how much he cared for the Lord and his people.

Give God Some Praise!!!