c. 2026 Rod Ice
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(2-26)
Sunday morning at the Dadisman Road Christ Fellowship Church was lightly attended, due to winter weather that made traveling up the winding road a challenging chore. A few vehicles were parked in front of their main building, with more across the road where an old schoolhouse once stood. Others came from neighboring homes nearby, because it had proven to be an easier trek using a tractor, or on foot. Yet the sanctuary resonated with lively conversation, and greetings being exchanged. It was a venue founded on faith alone. Otherwise, the little chapel was not known for any social standing among peers in the county. It did not attract visits from travelers, elected officials, or notable citizens. But as Parker Redman arrived, he could feel a sense of kinship with the unfamiliar flock. The group exuded authenticity, and kindness. For the first time in many years, he did not feel out of place in such a setting.
Quietly, he took a spot on the last pew, with the tattered copy of his ‘Bible for Bikers’ in hand. As the worship service began, a song leader stood in front of their pulpit, and called out a number from his sacred collection. The chosen hymn was ‘To the Work’ by Fanny J. Crosby. One instantly familiar from past days spent listening to his father preach to believers in the Ohio Valley, and beyond.
“To the work!
To the work!
We are servants of God
Let us follow the path
That our Master has trod
With the balm of His counsel
Our strength to renew
Let us do with our might
What our hands find to do
Toiling on, toiling on
Toiling on, toiling on
Let us hope, let us watch
And labor till the Master comes.”
The schedule of their gathering had been altered slightly, because although enough members were in attendance, none of the regular speakers had been able to get through snow and ice that hampered the meeting. So prayers, scriptures, and a cappella selections were alternated to fill the span. When it was time for communion, men from the congregation took their places at the Lord’s Table. A fellow dressed in faded denim, with a longish, gray beard, read from the Word of God. Then offered a humble petition over the ceremonial feast.
Luke 22: 14-20, “And when the hour was come, he sat down, and the twelve apostles with him. And he said unto them, With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer: For I say unto you, I will not any more eat thereof, until it be fulfilled in the kingdom of God. And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and said, Take this, and divide it among yourselves: For I say unto you, I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God shall come. And he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them saying, This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me. Likewise also the cup after supper, saying, This cup the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you.”
Parker felt his chest tightening. He whispered the familiar phrase under his breath, which was carved into the front of their wooden table.
“This do in remembrance of me...”
Those who were serving dispersed the cups of grape juice, and matzos, among everyone in the pews. Heads remained bowed with reverence. Then, the senior officiator spoke in a solemn tone as he concluded the ritual.
“Separate and apart from the Lord’s Supper, we now take up a collection to support the benevolence of our church. Give according to your ability. We ask that God will bless us, as we support those in need, and continue to do his work.”
Normally, there would have been someone to offer a Bible lesson before the invitation was given, an appeal to those who had not yet received the Holy Spirit into their hearts, and been baptized. But as that dramatic moment arrived, there was some confusion. Elders of the group were not represented in a sufficient number. No other clergyman had been appointed, after the death of Solomon Ike, their spiritual anchor for over 30 years.
With a hint of hesitation affecting his voice, Parker stood up and clasped his copy of the good book in one hand.
“Friends, I might be a stranger here. But let me introduce myself as a son of Pastor Podmore Redman, who traveled extensively throughout this state and others in the region. Some of you might remember him, as a scholar and theologian. Or perhaps, as a volunteer at soup kitchens and county fairs, cookouts, and ramp dinners. He performed many weddings and funerals around West Virginia. But I knew him by a simpler title. I called him my papa...”
Silence filled the sanctuary. Krista Pearl was seated with cousins from the local community, but she did not draw attention to herself. There were a few gasps of surprise as he strode forward, to the lectern. He opened the biker volume gently, and took a deep breath before beginning to preach.
“You might notice that this translation is the NIV, the New International Version. Now, like many of you, I grew up with the King James Bible. And that rendering of the scriptures is still familiar. Part of my foundation as a young believer. Right at the roots of my experience. But I want to be clear for this new generation. Because the word needs to ring out not just with old-timers and those of a longstanding faith, but also, with the inheritors of tomorrow. I’ve seen plenty of church groups go by the wayside, because their people got old and frail, and there was nobody to take over. And part of the guilt there lies on those like myself. Yes, I turned away from the message. I confess that sin, here and now, in front of you! But there’s a candle lit somewhere, deep in my soul. A spark that could not be extinguished. Not by fate or misfortune, or a refusal to obey. That is why I came here, to share fellowship, and this sermon, with you. I am a backslider, stained and dirty. Not an example of goodness or light. I do not deserve any respect and would not want anyone to follow my path. If you might have also fallen by the wayside, however, then I want to say that the forgiveness of a loving God has not forsaken you. Let me read from these dog-eared pages, if I might...”
He turned to a passage that caused tears to drip from his eyes.
Ephesians 1: 1-10, “Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, To God’s holy people in Ephesus, the faithful in Christ Jesus: Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will – to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and understanding, he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times reach their fulfillment – to bring unity to all things in heaven and on earth under Christ.”
Parker raised his hands overhead, as if to awaken the entire assembly, at once.
“When you hear that message, what does it mean? Did Paul intend to speak about half measures, or a limited-time offer, a one-off deal maybe? A special kind of pass given to certain individuals, but not others? I ask you to read that verse again. ‘To bring unity to all things in heaven and earth under Christ.’ All things, it says! All things! Ponder the might of that promise, brothers and sisters! Does it sound like a sales gimmick? Like something you would hear buying a used car, or a timeshare? No indeed! It is the word of a loving savior. The word of our creator, handed down. It is our reason to worship here today. Because those who have strayed from righteousness, and allowed themselves to trade the light for darkness, still have hope. That hope lies in the gospel. That hope lies in embracing the truth, and proclaiming it openly, as ministers of the word. Even when we have fallen short of his glory...”
Members of the congregation were stunned. To hear such a message from someone they did not know was enough of a surprise. Yet to hear it delivered by a shaggy, sloppy, tattooed rebel in a leather vest and chaps, was unbelievable.
The song leader stood up as if on cue. He began to wave his hand like a choir conductor.
“All things are ready, come to the feast!
Come for the table now is spread;
Ye famishing, ye weary, come
And thou shalt be richly fed
Hear the invitation
Come, whosoever will;
Praise God for full salvation
For whosoever will...”
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