January 15, 2024 - In 1951 as I hitch-hiked back to Seminary in Springfield, Missouri, I stopped in for “chili dog” sandwich in Mena, Arkansas. The sandwich cost me twenty-five cents (the cheapest thing on the menu) and it left me a ten dollar bill in my wallet and some change in my pocket. But when I got back to school and reached for my wallet, it was gone. I had lost it somewhere between Mena and Springfield, so I figured I’d lost it in someone’s car that had picked me up. Most of the ministerial students at The Baptist Bible College were “pore” and we depended on each other for survival food.
About two weeks later I got a package with my wallet and ten dollar bill still in it. A note was included: “Thought you might need this”… and it had no return address. I rushed down to a little store on nearby Route 66 and bought a huge jar of Jiffy Peanut butter, returned to the dorm and got the news out: “Peanut butter in my room… BYOC.” (Bring Your Own Crackers) That night Charlie Wisdom, Billy McCall and I had a feast in my room: peanut butter, crackers… and plenty of water.
I’ve heard a lot about preachers and chicken, but some of my fondest memories of Seminary days was a bunch of young preachers passing around a jar of peanut butter… holding hands… and thanking God… not for chicken…
… but for delicious Peanut butter and crackers.
