He was a country preacher and a farmer. Early one Saturday morning he was milking his cow. His faith was at low ebb. Times were tough and things were thin and he was feeling low. Bills were due and things around the farm were in need of repair. He sat milking his cow and wondering what he had to say to the people that would gather for worship the next day. Quietly he began to talk out loud to the Lord.
While he was praying he heard a “thump.” Just a few days before he had replaced a window in the milk house. Sparrows had been getting into the milk house and making a mess. They were used to flying through the open window. He walked outside to see that a little sparrow had flown into the new glass and it had fallen to the ground. He stood looking at the little bird for a while. Relief from his discouragement and text for a message flowed into his heart. It was as if the clouds had rolled away and the sun shone again in his soul.
The words of the text were the words of Jesus recorded in Matthew 10:29-31 “Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. 30 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”
I heard him tell this story from the pulpit of his church in Linnville, Ohio. It is one of the few places all three of us who share the name Kenneth Pierpont have preached.
(From Stonebridge Newsletter – Number 57)
In 2013 I wrote a book–a collection of stories from the farm. I re-told the sparrow story with additional detail. That version follows:
God of the Fallen Sparrow
Grandpa was a farmer and a machinist and, in his mid-fifties he was ordained to the gospel ministry. He worked a full-time job, farmed in the evenings and on Saturdays, and conducted prayer meeting at Linnville Church every Wednesday night and Sunday School and church every Lord’s Day. He and grandma would often have dinner in Newark at a restaurant on Wednesday night on the way out to Prayer Meeting. On the Lord’s Day they almost always had a steak at “The Ponderosa” before going home to feed the cows and nap. No matter how crowded his schedule the people expected their pastor to feed them every week and they didn’t go hungry.
I can see him with his glasses and his Bible and his books and reference material and his old, black manual typewriter. He used every tiny bit of margin to type his messages. He left a briefcase full of them with us when he went to be with the Lord.
Full-time pastors commonly struggle to find time for preparation. For bi-vocational pastors it is even more difficult. One Saturday morning grandpa was in the milk-house with a lot on his mind. His faith was at low ebb. Times were tough and things were thin and he was feeling low. Bills were due and things around the farm were in need of repair. He sat milking his cow and wondering what he had to say to the people that would gather for worship the next day. Quietly he began to talk out loud to the Lord, rolling the burdens of his heart over on the Lord in prayer.
While he was praying he heard a “thump.” Just a few days before he had replaced a window in the milk house. Sparrows had been getting into the milk house and making a mess. They were used to flying through the open window. He walked outside to see that a little sparrow had flown into the new glass and it had fallen to the ground. He stood looking at the little bird for a while. Relief from his discouragement and text for a message flowed into his heart.
The words of the text were the words of Jesus recorded in Matthew 10:29-31 “Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”
Looking at the fallen sparrow and thinking of the word of Jesus, it was as if the sun burned through the clouds of his soul. The God who numbers the hairs of our heads and notices the fallen sparrow would provide, and that is something worth reminding the people who would gather in the morning in the little church on Route 40.
I heard him tell this story from the pulpit of his church in Linnville, Ohio. It is one of the few places all three of us who share the name Kenneth Pierpont have preached.
Grandfather died in October of 1980. Grandma lived another twenty some years. On the day of her funeral I overheard my Dad and Uncle Bill talking. They were talking about my Grandmother’s estate. Because of Grandpa’s hard work, Grandma’s modest, frugal living, and the provision of God, they had all they needed until the day both of them went to the place where there is no more need.
They trusted the God of the fallen sparrow, and spoke of Him all of their lives to all who would listen.
