The Ship

   I always liked the painting that I had purchased years ago from Brother Slater.

I was thirty years old with a growing family and I wanted something for my home that would look good over the mantle. This was a true work of art, an oil painting on canvas. It depicted an old sailing ship plowing through the sea on a dark night and yet back-lighted by a glimmer of moonlight shimmering through a hole in the clouds. He had painted it a couple of times and this third version was a little darker with deep black-blues and yet the moonbeams clearly illuminated the ship pressing on through the darkness at full sail to it’s destination. We bought a dark stained frame that seemed to compliment the mood of the ship and sea.

   When I looked at the painting, I saw the ship as my life, or for that matter, anyone’s life, forging through unknown territory, surrounded by unseen hindrances and yet plunging toward our destinies. The moonlight represented wisdom that shows us where we are as we struggle through the sea of life; it doesn’t allow us to see far off, but we can clearly glimpse our present circumstances. The bow of the ship has two lanterns thrusting a red light on the port and a green light on the starboard so that passing ships can determine their direction. Brother Slater had been in the navy in World War II and he had served on aircraft carriers in the Pacific campaigns. He had sailed on night seas and was well acquainted with the scenario that he painted. At that time my direction was uncertain and there have been many course changes that would ultimately lead me to where I am today. The ship reminded me that though I was surrounded with uncertainty, there was always light that would help me see the way and stay on course.

   Over the years my ship drifted off course and there were times when the moonlight was completely obscured by the stormy clouds above. Eventually my marriage crashed on the rocks of despair and I lost track of the painting along with many other things I valued. Over the next twenty years, I forgot about the irreplaceable oil painting as I moved across the country and started a new life in North Carolina.

   After 18 years in the Carolinas and almost 15 years with my beautiful new bride, I had occasion to travel back to the old life and renew some old treasured acquaintances. My brother Ted asked, “Would you like to see Brother Slater” and I said, “That would be great”. He and I visited with Brother Jack for over three hours and had a wonderful time reminiscing over past experiences. Brother Jack is 82 years old now and though he said he doesn’t paint anymore, I noticed that he had many of his personal oil paintings displayed throughout his home. As we looked through his gallery, I remarked to Ted that I used to have one of his paintings, but that it had been lost after my separation from my first wife.

   Brother Jack looked at me and said “David, I didn’t know that you had lost that painting. You know I haven’t painted for three years, but if you would like for me to, I’ll paint you another picture of that ship”. I was stunned and delighted, and above all, honored, that he would even consider painting a new picture for me. Especially, since he had basically retired from painting. I love Brother Jack for the great Christian example he has always been and for the grand times we have shared together. In my life, he preached the light that shined through and guided my ship on my voyage. When my circumstances were shrouded in darkness, it was me who ignored the light and strayed from the light to wander under the clouds of indecision.

   I told him that I would be honored to have him paint the ship again. I wondered if he really meant it and whether he was still capable of painting at the same level that he used to. About a month later, I was thrilled to get a call from Brother Jack. He said he was finished with the picture and he thought it just might be the best version of the ship he had ever done. With Ted’s help, I arranged to have it shipped to North Carolina, Cheryl helped me find a suitable frame and I now have the ship proudly hanging in my home where it rightfully belongs. It’s not exactly like the old painting, it’s lighter, with gray tones and it has highlights of golden moonshine sparkling on the water. I’m reminded that my voyage and his are more clearly illuminated and though we are further down the journey of life, the light still shines down to show us the way, even on the darkest night. And you know what, he’s right, it is the best he has ever done.

THE SHIP

 

Doris and Jack

   We left Sweetwater Texas when I was ten years old and it was four years before we settled on a new church and I first met Bro. Jack Slater and his wife Doris. He was a newly graduated pastor from Baptist Bible College in Springfield, Missouri, but he was coming home to Texas when he accepted the position at Fort Worth Baptist on Bonnie Brae Street. In their early thirties, they were both eager to follow the Lord and raise their two boys back in Texas. He had been in the Navy during World War II, serving on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific theatre. After the war he tried many occupations, but eventually succeeded at driving GM auto delivery trucks and a sales position at a major department store. After several years he surrendered to preach and paid his own way through Bible Baptist College while providing for his family. When he first accepted the position in Fort Worth, the church was unable to pay him an adequate salary, so he continued to drive a commercial truck to feed and clothe his family. They were both from the small town of Haskell, Texas and they were well acquainted with hard work and getting by on a meager existence.

   Haskell county lies in the barren west Texas plains filled with mesquite flats and low plateaus, where farmers raise cattle and grow wheat and cotton. The summers are brutally hot and dusty and the winters are equally harsh with cold winds blowing down from the northern plains. Spring brings violent thunderstorms and an occasional tornado, like the one that hit in 1953, and Fall only lasts about 2 weeks in between Summer and Winter. Doris was raised around Haskell and Brother Jack grew up eleven miles north of Haskell in the community of Rochester. From the fourth grade on, he was raised by his grandparents until he joined the Navy. His mother had given him up and an uncle in Wichita Falls had cared for him through the third grade, until he moved to work on canal construction projects in Panama. He once told me that the first time he saw Doris was when he was twelve years old. She was a coquettish ten-year-old swinging on an old tire in her Daddy’s yard as he rode past on a bicycle. When he looked over at her, she stuck out her tongue at him and he didn’t know if that meant that she really liked him or if she didn’t like him at all. Doris seldom left you wondering how she felt about anything, you just had to know what her actions meant.

   During his time on the farm in Rochester he developed a love for hunting. His first gun was a Benjamin pump BB gun and he soon discovered that he was a very good shot. His first real gun was his granddad’s shotgun but he yearned for a rifle that he could use when you can’t use a shotgun. . His granddad gave him a young pig which he fed and cared for until it was old enough to market, and then he sold it and bought a bolt action Remington 22 caliber rifle with a tube feed. A short time later he was playing marbles with his good friend Taylor Segal and his Uncle Alfred when his uncle said, “Jackson, throw that taw of yours up in the air.” Brother Jack tossed his marble high into the air and Uncle Alfred raised his 22 rifle and shot the marble into smithereens on the first shot. He then taught his nephew how to turn yourself loose and fire on impulse instead of aiming. At 14 years old he became a crack shot. One morning his grandmother expressed concern about her chickens because a hawk flew high overhead. He grabbed his 22 rifle, and with his first shot blasted the hawk out of the sky in full flight. Grandma went into the house and grabbed some money and handed it to Brother Jack as she said, “Here Jack, go buy you some more shells.”

   When the Second World War broke out, Brother Jack wanted to join the Navy and serve his country, but he was only fourteen years old. By the time he was fifteen and a half he went to the Navy enlistment office and presented them with a birth certificate showing that he was seventeen and a half. It seems that the county didn’t have his birth recorded, so he convinced the county clerk that he was two years older than his actual birth. With this, he signed up with the Navy in Dallas and was sent to Alameda California for basic training. In basic training he proved to be a ‘dead shot’ with all the weapons he was trained on. Receiving orders to serve on a brand new aircraft carrier, they took the shake down cruise and then shipped out into the Pacific. It was April 1943 and he was immediately engaged in the battle to recapture the Aleutian islands from the Japanese. In constant skirmishes with the enemy around Attu and Kiska, his ship was to return with only a handful of pilots and planes. He became a gunners mate because of his expert marksmanship acquired back on the plains of Haskell county. He became familiar with every piece of ordinance on the ship, from handguns to M1 carbines, machine guns and the five inch batteries.

   His carrier cruised back to Dutch Harbor and then they returned to the San Francisco Bay area for refitting. The day before they were to ship back out, he heard his name announced over the ship’s speakers,

“Seaman Jack Slater report to the Captain’s quarters immediately”.
When he arrived, the Captain was holding an envelope from his Mother, which included a handwritten note from the doctor who had delivered him. This clearly documented that he was not yet sixteen years old. The Captain said, “Young man, you could have cost me my commission.” and knowing that this is one man you don’t lie to, Brother Jack acknowledged that indeed it was true. The Captain then said,
“Son do you want to stay or do you want to go home?” Brother Jack said,
“ I can’t go home, those guys I run around with would never let me live it down. I’d like to stay in the Navy and go on this cruise”.
The Captain then resealed the letter and said, “You’re dismissed. I think I’ll open this letter in a couple of days when we get under way; now you better go get yourself ready, because we ship out at 8:00 o’clock in the morning.”  

   He served with honor and distinction and he still speaks of his service with great pride. On his first leave home, when Doris was fourteen and had blossomed into a beautiful young lady, he saw her again and spoke with her before he reported back to duty. She was probably quite taken by his dashing appearance in his naval uniform and on his next leave, they dated a couple of times.  When he reported back to duty, they agreed to write and their relationship grew fonder across the miles. The war matured you quickly and the uncertainties helped many to make life lasting decisions about the future. Like so many returning servicemen, they were married, shortly after he was discharged on December 21^st of 1945. She was 16 and he was a mature war veteran of 18.

 


Bro Jack at 18

Doris at 16

                                               

Brother Jack was as humble as Doris was direct, he was the strong silent type who never got angry and she was the emotional one who
showed her feelings so that you were never in doubt where she stood. Doris was passionate in her beliefs and she proudly defended her husband, her family and her belief in God.

Brother Jack was slow to anger, rarely raised his voice (even when preaching), and he had the capacity to teach a body of believers like no other pastor I have ever met. Together they were a powerful team that God used to touch hundreds of lives and lead innumerable converts to the saving grace of Jesus Christ. I know that by growing up under their combined influence, I became a better person. My Mother was dying from cancer and my Dad was traveling away from home to keep work and pay his bills, so Brother Jack and Doris impacted my life more than they will probably ever know.

   Brother Jack’s attractive features with his wavy black hair sometimes turned the head of female church members, until Doris noticed their behavior. She usually found a way to catch their attention and help them understand that Brother Jack was already taken and very happily married. And I think they were; they say opposites attract and usually complement each other. They were as human as you and I and yet they had to present themselves several times a week as examples for us to follow. Sometimes their human frailties were exposed, but they never broke down or lost their respect for what they represented. They were Pastor and Wife, as well as Mother and Dad. During a sixty-three year marriage they raised sons Brad and Bill to become responsible caring Dads with children of their own. Brad’s son Scott graduated from Texas A&M where he was the kicker on their football team and then later became a Navy pilot who, ironically landed jet fighters on aircraft carriers.

   Faithful servants to their ministry they served in every capacity that was required. Doris loved to sing and she had a mellow alto voice that blended well in a duet or trio. She was nervous when singing solo, but I can still remember her beautiful version of “Follow Me”; I think it was one of her favorites. Her lilting contralto voice had a soft waver when she hit the high notes and you knew she was singing from the heart. She was the youth director when I was a teenager and she led the class singing as well as teaching the Sunday School lesson for the youth class. She taught us what she called a “Hash Chorus” that I still sing to myself when no one is around.

   She taught simply and direct, like she did everything; when trying to teach us about good and evil, she said “The old Indian illustrated the difference between good and evil by using an example of the black and white dogs. Sometimes the black dog is on top and winning and sometimes the white dog is on top and winning. You need to be sure that the white dog is always on top and you are doing the right thing, and don’t let the black dog take over because you will be doing what you shouldn’t be doing.”

It has always stuck with me that when I’ve been astray, I am letting that black dog get back on top and I need to change my ways. It really is that simple.

   Over the years, she did everything that a woman can do in a Fundamental Baptist Church, but I’m sure she could have done more if given the opportunity.

Her main job was to support her husband and in that, she never failed. Doris was his best friend, advisor, Mother of their children, constant companion, settler of disputes, champion of his causes and his loving and faithful wife.

Jack was her man and she forthrightly and earnestly defended him in every way.

   Brother Jack Slater is one of the most humble and gentle spirits that ever preached the Gospel. From his humble beginnings to his current retirement, he accomplished great things for God. All who have sat under his compelling sermons have grown spiritually and intellectually through the years. Unlike many “Fire-Breathing” pastors of his genre, who tried to scare “Hell” out of you, Brother Jack preached the truth and allowed the truth to penetrate through the Holy Spirit. He loved to tell a good humorous story to illustrate a point. He was a faithful counselor to those who needed spiritual advice and he shared the truth of the Gospel to the best of his ability. Pastors like Brother Jack are rare and we were blessed to sit under his ministry. Over the years Brother Jack performed marriage ceremonies for me and both my brothers and he even conducted the ceremony for my brother Ted a second time. I had the privilege to serve as his Music Minister in two different churches. When you work as a music minister, you have complete access to the personal side of the pastor’s life and for the several years that I worked closely with them, I learned that Brother Jack and Doris were the real thing.

Jack and Doris at a Sunday school dinner in the mid 1970’s

         

   Pastors need a hobby to relax and Brother Jack’s has most certainly been hunting and fishing. I don’t know if he picked up fishing out in the murky stock tanks of West Texas or when he was in the Navy, but the man loves to fish. Pastors don’t fish on weekends, so he went as often as he could on early week days. God blessed him, because he usually brought home plenty of bass or crappie. He has always had a boat that he customized to his needs.  In later years he took long trips to Canada to fish for muskies and hunt for Moose. Like in his old navy days, he was a crack shot and he brought home a hunting prize along with some fish he caught every year. He shot a moose every year of the five years that he sojourned  up to Red Lake Ontario. Doris went with him on the last trip and she accompanied him while they fished to their limit and then shot a moose from the boat.

   Somewhere along the way, he decided to try painting and he became very good at it. His early oil paintings were nautical themes but in recent years, he has developed a Native American and western theme to his work. He does life-like portraits of Chiefs and warriors and the horses they rode and the animals they pursued. He stopped painting for over three years when Doris fell and broke her hip. I am privileged to own a beautiful painting of a three-masted frigate sailing on a cloudy night with shafts of moon beams breaking through the clouds and illuminating the ship. It was the first painting he had done since she broke her hip and it is one of my most prized possessions. Since then he has begun painting religious scenes that include Daniel in the lion’s den and Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane.

   Brother Jack and Doris have led extraordinary lives in a simple understated way. Never boasting of their accomplishments, they have quietly influenced at least three generations and they have been an inspiration to a lot of folks like me. Doris resides in Heaven tonight and I’m reminded that she’s probably watching me, so I had better be good.

  Brother Jack told me that a friend of theirs told him recently, “You know Brother Jack, you never had to wonder where you were at with Doris”. I agree with that, and I feel the same about Brother Jack; Pastor, Mentor, Friend and Counselor, a man who has done so much and asked for so little. Together, Brother Jack and Doris were a dynamic team and served with true humility; I can just imagine what it’s going to be like when they meet again in Heaven. Doris will probably stick her tongue out at Brother Jack and then give him a great big hug to welcome him home. Then they will sing a duet together of ‘Follow Me’; Oh yes, Brother Jack, you’ll be able to sing in Heaven! You’ll have to take the lead, because Doris will be ‘spot on’ the harmony.

Brother Jack on 82^nd Birthday

 

 

 

 

 

FOLLOW ME (1953)   by Ira Stanphill

I traveled down a lonely road, and no one seemed to care, the burden on my weary back had bowed me to despair;

I oft complained to Jesus how folks were treating me, and then I heard him say so tenderly:

"My feet were oh so weary upon the Calvary road, my cross became so heavy, I fell beneath the load;

Be faithful, weary pilgrim, the morning I can see, just lift your cross and follow close to me."

"I work so hard for Jesus," I often boast and say," I've sacrificed a lot of things to walk the narrow way,

I gave up fame and fortune,; I'm worth a lot to Thee," And then I hear Him gently say to me,

"I left the throne of glory and counted it but loss, my hands were nail'd in anger upon a cruel cross,

But now we'll make the journey with your hand safe in mine, so lift your cross and follow close to me."

Oh, Jesus, If I die upon a foreign field some day,  t’would be no more than love demands, no less could I repay;

"No greater love hath mortal man than for a friend to die," And then I heard Him gently say to me:

"If just a cup of water I place within your hands, then just a cup of water is all that I demand;"

But if by death to living they can thy glory see, I'll take my cross and follow close to thee.

A visit with Mike

Several months prior to losing his battle with cancer, Mike told me that he inquired and discovered that he was qualified for burial at the DFW National Cemetery in Grand Prairie, TX. He was, in fact, a Vietnam veteran and therefore imminently deserving of the honor. I am proud of him for that. Our Dad was also a veteran of WWII and he would have been proud of his son.

The DFW National Cemetery was opened in 2000 with over 600 acres overlooking Mountain Creek Lake. It is a beautiful setting as the final resting place for thousands of America's heroes. It is a fitting tribute to those who served. I was deeply touched by the enormous integrity of the beautifully orchestrated composition of respect and honor.

Ted and I wanted to visit Mike and pay him our respects. Ted was facing open heart surgery in two days and we just wanted to visit with family. It was a warm sunny day and it was easy to find his plot. The markers are beautifully laid out in carefully planned rows. We found his marker easily and spent time checking out the area. It will be a memorable spot when it is completed.

Love you Brother!

Mike is located in section 100 - Site 817. The map below will guide you.