Praying for a Rodeo

While in seminary in the late 50s, I served a little steepled church in Orlando, Oklahoma. You could almost put the “Come Again” sign on the back of the “Welcome" sign. Actually, the welcome sign was a historical marker for the starting line of the Cherokee Strip where the Great Land Run of 1893 took place. Would be settlers crazily raced out across the prairie to stake a piece of land.    

I nervously faced a congregation of about 100 my first Sunday, the offspring of those early settlers. One of them, known as “Big Daddy” approached me before the service wearing a ten-gallon sombrero. He said, “Preacher, I won’t be staying for your sermon today.  I have a Rodeo down in Guthrey this afternoon. After church, I want you to come down and give the invocation for my Rodeo.” He raised Brahman bulls and bucking horses on land his ancestor had acquired by trading a cigar.  I figured it not wise to turn Big Daddy down. Half way through the service Big Daddy donned his sombrero and walked out. Half the congregation walked out with him; a sobering experience for a green-horn like me when half your flock walks out on your first Sunday.  

I climbed the announcer’s tower. Big Daddy said: “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a rousing welcome to Reverend John who will give the invocation!” Loud cheers! “Preacher, please pray for the safety of the riders,” Big Daddy said handing me the mic. Bumfuzzled, I complied. After I said “Amen,” unlike my congregation, came another loud cheer from the crowd.  Truth be known, I thought it theologically presumptuous to ask God to save the rear ends of a bunch of cowboys foolish enough to get on bucking broncos or Brahman bulls.