Found In A Field

In 2003, I led a homeless man on the streets of Brooklyn to Christ. He became my friend and a member of the church I pastored for four years. He went to Heaven recently. He will forever be remembered by those whose lives he touched. He was a man with a great treasure within his heart. That treasure was the love he possessed for others. However, that treasure took him years to find. It was a found in a Field. God bless the life of James Henry Hudson Jr. 

The Language Of Their Faces

Many years ago while travelling hundreds of miles up the West Coast of Africa, I was somewhat frustrated by my inability to speak the local dialects of the various tribes. One night while sitting and observing a village crowd watch another showing of the "Jesus Film" I discovered a great and wonderful truth that I have kept with me these years. The eyes and experssions on the faces of these precious people were speaking to me. Each of us have a story written deeply in our countenance. It is the wise missionary that will learn to read the biography of each life, even when we don't speak their native tongue.

Hands Like His

Written for one of the most charitable and kind-hearted men that I have met in my life, my father-inlaw, Jack Maddox. He gave to those in need and always expected nothing in return. I have been blessed to know him. He took into his family with an open heart from the day I put a ring on his daughter's finger in marriage. To know him is to love him. He is a faithful husband, father, and grandfather. He is a caretaker and friend to all. God bless the life of William "Jack" Maddox. 

On The Side of A Hill

This photo is precious to me. These are the "old maids" that reared my Grandma Pledger in Arkansas following the death of her mother as an infant nearly 100 years ago. It was these Blanscet sisters that read her the Bible by firelight in a rustic log cabin when Mae was just a young girl. Their walk with God laid a foundation for her as she would oneday rear eleven children of her own. Four of her sons would become Baptist preachers in spite of their being raised in a home of poverty and the ridicule of my God-hating Grandpa. One of her boys would later become my father, Dr. Ken Pledger. He would overcome the adversity laid upon him in his childhood while growing up on the side of a ridge in Coal Hill. His early struggles would not destroy him, but make him ready for his future years of service in the Gospel Ministry. The grit and determination that these dear, old saints of God possessed was passed onto my Grandma and then to my father. I hope in time will find its way into my soul as well. "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; I have a goodly heritage: Psalm 16:6

For Those Who Walk in the Valleys

"He Touched Us All"

One of the most charming young men that I have ever known was a "special needs" student at the school where I have served as both a teacher and school administrator. This 17 year-old student, Kameron, left a deep impression on my life, as well as the lives of many. He never allowed his "disabilities" to keep him down, but rather he turned them into "abilities" to speak to the hearts of those he contacted. He passed away on December 31st, 2016. His passing into Heaven left an emptiness inside us all that can never be filled by anything other than God's grace. I placed the photo of Kameron's handprint in the center of this poem. It is the clay impression taken by his family the day he died. This photo reminds me of the impression he left on me.

"Buckets Full of Love"

 

Written for Mrs. Sylvia Rager, who for these years, showed up at Vacation Bible School and served more than Snacks. She served us all “Buckets of Love"

 

 

 

 

 

As July summer rolls around

And VBS draws near

We get our games, the crafts, and snacks

For our favorite time of year

 

The kids get all excited

All our workers get new shirts

We put up posters, practice skits

And send out loud alerts

 

Then here comes Monday evening

The Buses roll on in

We sing and clap and have such fun

Then preach of hell and sin

 

The youngins come in by the droves

With pennies in their hands

We take up offerings for the Lord

We’ll send to foreign lands

 

Some kids get loud, some fussy

Some quiet as a dove

But when they leave to head on home

They take Buckets Full of Love

 

Who made the Buckets each one bears?

Who put such love inside?

To pour out over every child

This Love so Deep and Wide

 

For every child is a gift

The ones that makes us smile

And even ones that draw our frown

Who force us the extra mile

 

Yes, they all need bathed with charity

From head to knees and toes

To rid them of their hurts and griefs

The pain only their God knows

 

Buckets Full of Jesus Love

Dripped over every kid

To heal wounds of a cruel world

Their scars so often hid

 

Who gathered all these cherished pails

And placed such care in them

Who emptied all a mother’s love

And filled them to the brim

 

This love that soothes a child soul

And gives them joy anew

I know who poured these Buckets

Sweet Mrs. Rager, It was YOU.