By Jodi Whisenhunt -
On a hill far away stood an old country church. For decades Backrow Baptist occupied a dignified position at the rear of the aging chapel. There, he faithfully attended every Sunday morning worship. He reverently sat through weekly Wednesday prayers. He joyfully witnessed amorous marriage unions. He woefully bore grave funeral farewells.Backrow Baptist, solid and firm in his youth, bore effects of time. His arms weakened; his soles scuffed. Once straight and sturdy, his back bowed and bent and his fully padded seat wore thin and threadbare.
Though a solitary figure, children often climbed upon Backrow Baptist and rested weary heads upon his shoulder while Pastor preached. Backrow Baptist welcomed all late arriving congregants and always offered cozy greetings to the many guests.
One sprinkly spring Sunday, a family rushed in from the rain. Not wanting to disrupt the sermon, they shuffled along the back row and sat simultaneously. The burden of supporting them proved too burdensome for Backrow Baptist, and he collapsed under the pressure. As the family members, stunned, sprang to their feet, the sermon halted. Mourners gathered round to collect the splintered remains of such a faithful fixture.
No pine box for Backrow Baptist, though! His servitude did not cease. No longer occupying the sanctuary posterior, he found himself rejuvenated. As reward for superior faithfulness and service to the body of Christ, Backrow Baptist, renewed and transformed, became Baptistry Adornment humbly representing the old rugged cross.