Today I have an entire cast of characters to introduce. The most important by far is of course Christ and our ‘ol buddy Legion. But I want to divert your attention for a few minutes if I may, to a more… let us say “common” folk. Common yes, but very important to our little story. Very important indeed.
Firstly: Preacher Martin, as a small child, this man scared me to death. He was a tall gaunt man. His pale skin surrounded a pair of deep-set and dark eyes. His thin nose hung above pencil-thin lips that never, and I mean never smiled. I’m certain he was bald though I never saw him without his dark grey Fedora. Imposing as he was, I never heard a bad word about Preacher Martin, in fact, folks never seemed to run short of praise. He was one of those personalities that hushed the room the second he entered. He brought with him a sense of respect and authority, the Holy Spirit just oozed from his person and was felt by everyone around him.
Secondly: Bigfoot Hayes, in many ways, Bro. Hayes was the polar opposite of Preacher Martin. A very large man as I recall, His massive body was covered by an even larger wrinkled old suit. Dark wavy hair was parted at the side and held in place by handfuls of Brill cream. His arms ended with two massive hands, permanently stained black by years of coal dust, scared from a lifetime spent in the mines. But his most notable feature was his feet, huge by any measure, those scuffed black shoes of his looked like sled runners. All that bulk gave way to one of the kindest dispositions you have ever seen. He was quick with a kind word, and his voice was soothing to even the meanest mule.
Those two were always together, Bigfoot drove Preacher Martin around the hills and hollers in a long black and dust-covered car.
Thirdly: Bugleg, where do I begin? I’m uncertain as to how he came by his name, I don’t know his Christian name or ever heard it spoken. It was just “Bugleg,” pure and simple to me and everyone else in town. The ‘ol boy lived in an old shack just outside of town, you couldn’t help but notice since it stuck out like a sore thumb whenever you went shopping, hardware store, or any other occasion that required travel by vehicle.
He possessed the most miserable personality one could imagine, any manner of conversation generally ended in an argument, so most folk went out of their way to avoid him whenever possible. The ones that did on occasion tolerate his company were his customers, you see, he was the biggest moonshiner in town, though no one ever found his still.
Most drunks have the common decency to cross the street when walking by a church, but not ‘ol Bugleg, no sir, that ‘ol cuss would just stroll on by like he didn’t have a care in the world, completely absent any respect for the Lord’s house.
And folks noticed.
Just like any other small town, rumors, and gossip flew through the air like June bugs, but that didn’t bother him none, not one bit. And they didn’t seem to bother Bigfoot Hayes either.
Every Friday morning should you pass Bugleg’;s house, you’d see a big black and dirty car. Yep, sitting there plain as day for all the town to see. On the porch would sit those two men, drinking coffee and discussing Lord knows what. Oh, some tried to whisper about Bro. Hayes spending time with such a feller. But those whispers didn’t stick, folks knew what kind of man Brother Hayes was, and they knew of his unshakeable faith.
You see, I believe folks couldn’t have a conversation with Bugleg simply because he didn’t understand their language. All he heard was judgment, all he heard was better than me, all he heard was he wasn’t good enough. I figure once a person hears that stuff long enough, they begin to believe it and begin to act it out. I think ‘ol Bugleg saw Brother Hayes’s rough, calloused, and stained hands, and he understood the language.
Those regular visits went on for more years than my young mind could grasp, but Bigfoot Hayes never wavered on his friend. And low and behold, one Sunday morning, just as Preacher Martin was about to begin the service…in walked the one and only, Bugleg.
The entire congregation minus one was gob-smacked, Bigfoot jumped to his feet and ran to his friend. He threw his big arms around the startled Bugleg and with tears flowing down his cheeks, quite nearly squeezed the wind from his lungs.
“This my friend” he proclaimed. ‘This is my friend, come to the Lord’s house.”
Now, I’m not saying things got better right away, no sir, that wasn’t the case. It took time you see, but the Lord began a mighty work in that “ol boy. It wasn’t long before you could even have an enjoyable conversation with him. He went as far as to cross the street when he walked by the church house, but Bigfoot told him, he didn’t need to do that anymore, after all…that was his father’s house now.
When Jesus stepped from the boat at Gadarene, he was met with a man much like Bugleg, with much the same reputation. I am certain the townsfolk were sore and tired of Legion, what with him running around naked and all. They even tried to catch him a few times, but he was slick as a snake and slipped loose every time.
But you know what that Lord of ours did?
He didn’t tell him to go take a shower before he would talk to him. He didn’t tell him to put on some clothes before he would listen. Not my Jesus, not your Jesus.
He talked to Legion as he was and worked a mighty miracle. When those towns folk came to see what the ruckus was about, they found Legion, clean, clothed, and in his right mind, just sitting there, talking it up with his Lord.
Were the towns folk happy?
Were they grateful?
I’m afraid not, instead, they were mad because their pigs were dead, and they asked him to leave. I really wish you would give it a read. You can find the story in Mark 5: 1-18
The point of this story is simple really, yet most will miss it. We as Christians aren’t called to just sit in a church house thankful for all God has bestowed on us. Instead, we are called to reach out to those most often shunned and overlooked. That doesn’t mean we should be hanging out in beer joints because “We’re doing God’s work.” But effective believers communicate like Bigfoot Hayes. By allowing our hands to speak the language. I believe your hands dear reader; speak a language someone needs to hear.
God is in the process of calling out a multitude that has been where they are and survived, that speaks the language and can relate to the pain. Sunday mornings should find every church full of Buglegs. God says, ‘He will use the weak to confound the wise.” Do you know a person like “ol Bugleg? I’m pretty certain you do. So, what are you waiting for?
The Tin Cup Clan 
Excellent post, as always, Mike.
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