The Church Walls Are Thin

There lies a thin line between saints and sinners, and the church walls are even thinner.

It was a hopeful Sunday morning at the old Cattywampus Church of Christ. There was hope among the righteous that newfound sinners would come to see the Light and be saved. There was hope among the deacons that the preacher’s new hip will hold up long enough to finish the sermon. But some were just hoping to get through one Sunday service without having to take young Zach and Isaac outside and spank the sin out of them.

Freshly and painfully scrubbed, snatched out of their farm overalls and shoved into dress clothes, the boys were squirming uncomfortably even before the opening hymn. It was the first time all week that either had worn shoes. Isaac sat near his mother, where he could be closely supervised, and Zach slid in beside him to stay near the aisle, should he need to make a quick getaway. But Aunts Itsy, Bitsy and Titsy are sitting in the pew directly in front of him, where they can spin around and smack Zach if the need arises. The need often arises. As usual, Mrs. Godburn, who isn’t even family, sat to Zach’s rear so she can get a lick in if needed.

The opening hymns were over. The opening prayers had been said. The bad-hipped preacher wobbled to his feet and began droning on about Hell and Heaven and damnation. Isaac’s eyes rolled back into his head in boredom.

“Psst. Zach. Look at this.”

Isaac furtively pulled a wadded handkerchief from his pocket, glanced to make sure his mother wasn’t watching, and un-wrapped it to reveal a large horsefly he had captured in his hat that morning. He then produced a piece of broom straw, broke off a bit, hunched over in the pew so no adult could see, and shoved it unceremoniously up the horsefly’s rear end.

“I dare you, Zach.”

For those of you blessed with refined character and human decency, or those who had access to more sophisticated forms of entertainment during your childhood, the intent here is simple: by inserting the broom straw into the horsefly’s rectal region, the poor insect will fly practically to the moon in an unsuccessful attempt to get away from the intrusive foreign object. Isaac figured that sucker would buzz around the church ceiling a little while and provide some entertainment until one of the ushers got a broom or something and escorted it out of the church, and no one would be the wiser.  

With a grin usually reserved for the most cardinal of sins, Zach turned the horsefly loose.

It quickly became apparent that there had been a miscalculation of basic mass and gravity. The horsefly had been violated with such a large piece of broom straw that, instead of circling among the rafters of the church, it could barely get off the floor. The anguished fly rose just a few inches from the floor and quickly fell, bobbing up and down, drawing gasps and noises of protest from row by row of congregation members as it made its way straight down the aisle toward the wobbly preacher.

“Oh, God,” said Zach.

“Hell yeah!” said Isaac.

The horsefly made it all the way up around the preacher’s feet and then began circling, buzzing, bobbing up and down. The Reverend did a sort of evasive jig,  almost like an Australian River Dance, put too much pressure on the hip and down he went on his back, bad leg pointing east, good leg going due west.

Isaac and Zach would have gotten away with this violent crime if Isaac’s mother, Aunt Emilia, had not taken that moment to look over at her son in suspicion and saw the remainder of that piece of broom straw jutting from his lips as he chewed on it, grinning like a cat eating a canary. During the work week, Aunt Emilia was well known as a devoted child protective services worker out in the county, where she spent decades working to protect children from the abuses of their parents. But Isaac made it well known in the community that, at home, his Momma did not practice what she preached.

“John DeWayne,” Aunt Emilia said to her husband, with gritted teeth behind her church fan. “Take him outside and wear his ass out!”

Isaac was snatched up by the collar and ear, as his father drug him forcibly down the aisle. Zach tried not to make eye contact with anyone and braced himself for possible blows to the head from the side, front and rear.

It took a few moments to corral the poor horsefly and get the preacher back on his feet, but the good Reverend was not to be discouraged and immediately launched right back into his sermon. But the walls of the old Cattywampus Church were thin back in those days before the new brick church was built. The walls were clapboard, no insulation, and the entire congregation could hear every word that was exchanged between father and son outside - and ever blow that landed.

“You son of a biscuit eater!” John DeWayne yelled. “Whap!” went the sound of a good church belt on the seat of good church britches.

“It wasn’t me, Paw!” squalled Isaac.

“Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death,” boomed the preacher. The congregation murmured and snickered.

“You lying little bastard!” shouted John DeWayne. “Whap!” Aunt Emilia turned a deep shade of red and the speed of her church fan increased by several miles per hour.

“I shall fear no evil, because the Lord is my Shepherd,” quoted the Reverend, hand raised toward the heavens.

“It wasn’t me, it was Zach!” screamed Isaac. “I’ll swear on the Bible!”

Aunt Itsy reached for Zach with an arthritic hand, Aunts Bitsy and Titsy were rearing back to hit him with purses and hymnals, and Mrs. Godburn, who isn’t even family, was in mid-swing with her cane, when the Holy Spirit apparently started moving among the sinners of Cattywampus Church. Zach jumped to his feet and raised both hands in the air.

“Lawd, save me!” he lurched down the aisle. “Reverend, I want to repent and be saved!”

That was delightful news to the good Reverend, a blessing from God indeed! It had been a slow month for the old guy, both in terms of souls saved and dollars in the offering plate. And for every wayward sinner who came to the Light and got baptized, the Rev. got an extra $25 bonus on his monthly stipend. And a rotten little sinner like Zach was a particularly notable catch.

“Come right on up, young man!” He bellowed to Zach like a carnival barker. “Acknowledge Jesus as your Lord and Savior, ask for his forgiveness and make clear your path to Heaven!”

It was only a couple of miles from the Cattywampus Church to Speed Limit Road where Zach’s family lived, but it sure seemed like a long, awkward and uneasy drive that afternoon. The aunts glared at Zach and mumbled in frustrated anger. But untouched, Zach sat in the back seat of the family Oldsmobile and practically radiated with the Holy Spirit. It filled his soul until it was overflowing from his face in a grin you couldn’t wash off with 20 Mule Team Borax soap.

His sins had been forgiven, including the horsefly travesty. He had been washed clean in the Blood of the Lamb.

You can’t spank a fellow after all that.