“And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father” (Colossians 3:17).

She said she was 90 years old. Clearly, she was a fiesty little lady, quick to speak up and tell you what was on her mind.

As I began sketching her likeness, making idle conversation and attempting to keep her focus in my direction, I said, “Have you ever been drawn before?”

She said, “WHAT? Have I ever been drunk?”

I laughed and said, “Drawn. Has anyone ever sketched you before?”

They hadn’t.

A moment later, I said, “Have you ever been drunk?”

She said, “Mind your own business.”

I was spending the weekend at the First Baptist Church of Yazoo City, Mississippi. When the pastor resigned recently for health issues, a longtime friend in that congregation urged the associate pastor to invite me up one Sunday.  And, because I frequently do senior events, they scheduled a Saturday night dinner for the older adults where I would sketch and speak.

Lewis Kalil told me eighty people had signed up.  And, because seniors do not like to drive after dark, the dinner was scheduled for 5 pm. I planned to arrive by 4:30.  Seniors like to arrive at any event early for some reason, and if I’m to sketch 80 people–a task that would normally take nearly 3 hours–I’d better catch them coming in and get on with it.

They were a delight.  Just like all the other seniors I’ve done over the years in all those other churches.

Yazoo City is the home of quite a number of well-known celebrities (or near that status) in the world I live in: Owen and Elizabeth Cooper, Jerry Clower, Zig Ziglar, R. L. and Beth Sigrest, Sue Tatum (to name a few)–all who served the Lord over many decades and left inspiring records of faithfulness. The Sigrests and Sue Tatum are still with us, thankfully.

I was sketching a couple Saturday night.  They’d not been married very long (I forget how long). She said, “This is the first marriage for that bachelor of 55 years.” I said, “You must have had your work cut out for you, having to reform that bachelor.” She smiled, “Oh no. He was already trained. He could cook and wash clothes and clean house. He’s wonderful.” We laughed. Then, I stepped into questionable territory .

“What I want to know is who proposed?”  I figured if he’d evaded the marrying preacher for over half a century, he had developed that into an art form.

She said,”Well, it’s like this.”

“He has a poor memory. So, one evening he said to me, ‘Have I asked you to marry me?’ I said, ‘No. Were you planning to?’  He was, but couldn’t recall whether he already had or had just thought about it.”

You’d think this would be something a fellow would remember.

Over lunch, my friends told me the man was an engineer with the highway department, and a jewel, and that the couple has a wonderful marriage.

We could wish that for all our friends of whatever age.

After drawing a person, I write their name across the top in large, somewhat creative strokes. And, being afflicted with horrible short-term memory, I wait until the drawing is complete before asking.

She said her name was Paulette.

I said, “Were you named for your father?”  I see that a lot.

“No, I was named for an uncle.”

I said, “Uncle Paulette?” And we laughed.

Handing her the drawing, I suggested teasingly that that was a funny line, and if she had no objections, I was going to tell the story as though she said her uncle’s name was Paulette.  Her sense of humor was intact, so when she okayed it, I reported on Facebook that that’s how the conversation had gone.  A little creative license there.  Hopefully, no integrity line was crossed.

At 6 pm–I had kept sketching right on through supper in order to get to everyone–Lewis called everyone’s attention to the stage, my friend Beth introduced me, and I spent the next 25 minutes telling stories and entertaining this delightful bunch of senior saints.  Then, returning to the table, I sketched until the last one left.  Around 7:15, they gave me a styrofoam container with my supper–I was fully prepared to pick up a burger and take back to the hotel room–and ate delicious spaghetti and meatballs while watching college football in the Hampton Inn.

Sunday morning at 7:30, in the hotel’s breakfast room, I spotted a family with a son of maybe 8 or 10 years, and decided to get my notebook from the car.  That’s how I came to draw Mario and his entire family, all from Honduras.  Later, while finishing my oatmeal, I was glad to see another group enter with two boys about Mario’s age and sketched them too. (The boys first, but after the parents see that these drawings are safe and fast and free and reasonably good, they volunteer too.)  These folks were in town for a barbecue cook-off held Saturday. Some lived in Newton, Mississippi, and others were from the Jonesboro, Arkansas area.  In the parking lot, the large professionally appointed trailers identified these people as serious grillers.

As usual, I sketched the lady at the front desk–her name is Megan– and a few other individuals in the breakfast room, just because they were there and I was drawing, so why not?

What did we talk about?  The usual: who they were, where they’re from, and what in the world this white-haired preacher is doing drawing people in the hotel breakfast room, how I got started. Stuff like that.  I point out that my signature “joemckeever.com” is my website, and encourage them to check it out.

By 9:30 am, I arrived at church where they had set me up in the children’s wing of the educational building to draw throughout Sunday School.  Children are sleepy this time of day, but they are dressed in their finest–all the little girls have bows in their hair, the boys have their hair slicked back and some wear clip-on neckties, and they all look like they’re ready to charm a grandpa–and are fun to draw.

Several people  mentioned little Sam, who had come home from an extended stay at the hospital recently and is about to go back for some major, life-threatening, hopefully life-saving, surgery.  He was subdued and sat on his mother’s lap as I did the best I could to get his likeness.  Lewis Kalil asked the church to pray for him.  Later, as we talked about little Sam, the thought occurred to me that fifty years ago when I was  young in the ministry, you could go ahead and plan this precious child’s funeral. But these days, the doctors are doing revolutionary things. God bless little Sam please.

Church was 11:00, so 20 minutes before, we moved into the sanctuary and I found my usual slot (in this and every church) on the front row.  They fitted me with a cordless mike, and then, as I had hoped, the teenagers filed in and sat behind me on the second pew.  (That is always the best place for teens since their attention needs all the help it can get.  In 1988, when we were preparing to enter the new sanctuary at First Baptist Church of Charlotte, I invited the youth minister to bring the teens in by themselves one evening, to try out all the various front sections of the seating, and choose one.  They got first choice. The only requirement from me the pastor was that they would sit in the very front, in the middle or on one side or the other. They did, and if I were to guess, I’d say the present generation of teens is still occupying that section.)

I motioned to one of the teenage boys to come here.  (That’s a fun thing to do. He has no clue what’s going on, but dutifully gets up and moves to my pew.) I said, “Sit there, turn toward me and smile. Show me teeth.”  Now he sees what’s happening and loves it.  So do the others, and one by one, I draw the entire bunch.

No one enjoys being drawn more than teenagers. And for my part, they’re the most fun group to sketch.  They’re at a great age, pre-adults, and they look a lot like who they’re going to become. These drawings catch them at a critical transition point in their lives and, I hope, makes them feel good about themselves.

Anytime you can encourage a teen to be their best selves, you’ve done a good thing.

When the choir began the call to worship, I finished the drawing I was working on and told the young lady behind me at the end of the pew that she would be next when the service ended.

I preached from Luke 18:8, “When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on earth?” and loved every moment of it.  People were praying for me, and I felt a wonderful freedom. The Lord has given me a strong message–hey, it’s His word and His strength, so it’s okay to say this–on how faith is the effective ingredient that drives all our belief, our worship and praying, giving and forgiving, our serving and our works.  Faith has two aspects, positive and negative. We believe in the Lord, the positive, but there are always negatives to be dealt with: things we do not know and cannot see, obstacles we have to overcome, people who get in our way.  Over the years the Lord has given me a few stories that drive home the points that “faith means obeying the Lord regardless” and “in many cases, we will not see the fruit of our faith until we get to Heaven.” The question then becomes whether we will endure and be steadfast.  (See the two notes at the end.)

The altar was filled with people coming to pray and recommit themselves.  That is always a blessed sight.

The moment the benediction was over, the young lady behind me slipped into her space and I sketched her.  She was followed by other teens, then a few children, and a few adults.  My hosts for lunch had been told it would be a half-hour before I could get away.

They live a couple of miles out in the country, the meal was my favorite, chicken spaghetti with homemade apple pie and (imagine this!) homemade vanilla ice cream.  The other guests were two friends I’ve known for decades, so the conversation was a pure delight with lots of stories and plenty of laughter.

I got away by 2 o’clock for the three-hour drive back home to New Orleans.  It had been a great day, and was made even better when the Saints won their opening game of the new season.

Since the electrician was coming Monday morning at 7 or 7:30, we had to be up early, so after the weekend I’d had, no one had to urge me to hit the sack as soon as possible.

Next weekend, Alexander City, Alabama. And the following, Valdosta, Georgia.

I do love being retired.

Notes:  After church, Lewis told me there was a new family present today, one he had never seen in church before. They told him something of what they were facing and added that the sermon was sent from Heaven just for them.

One more thing.  By the time I stood to preach, I must have sketched 150 people in the congregation made up perhaps of twice that many.  My observation is that spending that little time with each one of them, sitting across the table, eyeballing one another, having a quiet conversation while I’m attempting to capture their likeness, does wonders for communication in the sermon.  People feel they know you. 

Sure wish I’d known that fifty years ago. Glad to know it now.