Religion
Sunday Best
With love, discipline, and old-time religion, Kirbyjon Caldwell has built one of Texas’ most vital churches.
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In another segment, Caldwell compared Satan to a villainous wrestler from the early days of television, wrestling the microphone from its stand and holding it under one arm in a simulated choke hold. Matching actions to words, he said, “Remember how he would get somebody in a choke hold and turn away from the referee and then start hitting him in the face? Well, some of you are like this microphone. Satan’s got a strong hold on your neck.” Again, without denying external causation, the pastor put the onus back on his listeners. “You are responsible for the junk that flows through your mind. When a thought comes to your mind and you know it is of the devil, don’t even think about it. Don’t give it any time. Dismiss it! Reject it! Resist it! Say, ‘Satan, I know this thought came from you. I send it right back to you in the name of Jesus.’ If you had done that in months gone by, some of you wouldn’t be in the trouble you’re in right now.”
His audience with him, he staged another little playlet, this one starring Satan and Eve, with Adam as the feckless husband. “Adam and Eve were in the Garden, minding their own business, when up jump the devil. Devil says, ‘Psst! Eve. What’s this over here?’
“ ‘That’s the tree God told me not to bother.’”
Breaking into a high falsetto, he had Satan say, “Eve, let me tell you why God told you not to bother it. God knows if you eat, you’ll become as smart as God is. Go eat that tree, girl!”
Caldwell continued, “Then Adam, just henpecked as can be, in love, decided that he’d rather do wrong and be with her than do right and be without her. He sits down and eats too. That’s the first tempting experience in the Bible. If Eve had rejected and resisted that suggestion from Jump Street, there would be no problem. But she let Satan nest in her hair. You can’t keep the birds from flying over your house, but you can sure keep them from nesting in your hair.”
One of Satan’s favorite ploys, Caldwell asserted, is to convince people that they suffer handicaps that cannot be overcome or to make us stew over slights and imagined unfairness: “Satan keeps reminding us that our mom or dad may have had a favorite child in the family and it is not us, or reminds us that a sister was called pretty because she had a certain type of hair or a certain pigmentation of the skin that we did not have, or makes you think about the brother who played football or basketball and got all the accolades and all you could do was make good grades, and he was a hero and you were nothing.
“And here you are, thirty-five or forty years old, and Satan is still bringing that stuff to your remembrance. And we are still in the headlock because we allow ourselves to be in the headlock. Jesus Christ came to destroy the work of the devil. The victory has already been won. We don’t have to fall down to Satan. We have a deliverer! We have an emancipator! We have a savior! We have our Lord!”
Caldwell once described his recipe for preaching as “start low, rise high, strike fire, and sit down.” This morning he had risen high. Now it was time to strike fire. Over the next ten minutes, he paraphrased Paul’s famous instructions regarding “the whole armor of God” (Ephesians 6:10–17), pausing at every likely stop to let the organist sound a rising pulse as the people shouted, “Yeah!”; walking, stalking, dancing, jumping across the broad dais.
“Paul says, ‘When you get up in the morning, just don’t put your underwear on, just don’t put your shirt on, just don’t put your tie on. Put on your helmet of salvation, so when Satan tries to tell you that you are not saved, you can say, I’m saved and I know I’m saved, because the blood of Jesus saved me.
“‘Then don’t stop with your helmet. Put on the breastplate of righteousness. . . . Gird your loins with the truth.’” He tied an invisible apron around his waist and gave his parishioners a knowing look. “If we just put some truth over our loins, we wouldn’t get into the trouble we get in.
“When you put your shoes on, don’t just put on ordinary shoes. Put on some shoes that are ready to tell the good news of Jesus Christ . . . He woke me up this morning, started me on my way . . . put me in my right mind . . . gave me the power to praise his name . . . put a little pep in my step . . . a little glide in my stride . . . and I’m glad about it!” He snatched a lightning bolt of power from the sky, stepped with admirable pep, and strode with supernatural style.
“Then take the shield of faith. And when Satan shoots his darts at you, hold it up!” He demonstrated proper shield technique, warding off attack from every direction. “Satan comes with his drugs, Hold it up! . . . Satan comes with his lies . . . Hold it up! . . . Satan comes with the racism, hold it up!
“But there’s one more piece.” He drew an invisible double-edged “sword of the Spirit” from its scabbard and brandished it like Zorro. “Every other piece is defensive. This piece is offensive! God made the Word to whip heads and take numbers. God made the Word to put a Z on Satan’s chest. Put the A on his chest, for I have all things in Christ Jesus! Put the B on his chest, I’m blessed in Jesus Christ! Put the C on his chest, I’m consecrated, I’m committed to Jesus Christ. I wish I had time to tell you my ABCs.” As the crowd exulted in victory, he stomped on a whupped Satan’s chest and shouted, “Satan! . . . Satan! . . . Satan! . . . Satan! . . . I’m mad as heaven, and I’m not going to take it anymore! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”
At this point, the musicians had resumed their places and were offering backup. Individuals, then little clumps, and finally, the entire congregation was on its feet, cheering in victory. United Methodists or not, they were on fire. This was classic black preaching at its finest, and Windsor Village was red hot. And Kirbyjon Caldwell, true to his own prescription, knew it was time to stop. As the obvious climax came and passed, he moved quickly to the invitation, calling those who needed prayer to come to the front, emphasizing that even though our problems might not be our fault, they are our responsibility.
When the penitent had gathered before him, he led a fervent prayer on their behalf, asking God’s forgiveness, and a double-portion anointing of the Holy Spirit, and getting in a last shot at some local sins. “Somebody here has been abusing his or her spouse. And the last time you did it was the last time it will be done. In the name of Jesus, I can feel it. Somebody at the altar right now is flirting with cocaine, big time. It started off socially, but now it’s a big deal for you. But the last time you did it is the last time you are gonna do it. God bless you. Hug somebody.”
Then, in quick succession, he told all who desired to participate in “God’s kingdom-building process” that “the doors of the church are open” and invited them to unite with Windsor Village. The service quickly wound down as ushers passed offering baskets to collect “God’s tithes and our offerings” while Caldwell made a few announcements, asked people to sign up for various activities, and commented a bit, but not much, on the need to give generously.
As it was in the beginning, so now again the choir combo noodled around pleasantly, rather than singing or playing anything in particular. Kirbyjon Caldwell put his microphone back on the stand, picked up his Bible, and pronounced a benediction found in no prayer book but perfectly expressive of a man at home with his power and his people: “God bless you. Later. Love you. Bye.”
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