In a previous post, I shared snapshots of people with whom I have been privileged to co-labor during my years of active ministry. All of the people mentioned in that post (9/21/23) were in churches I pastored in Kansas from 1971 to 1979. In September, 1979, the Lord moved us to Indianapolis and to the Thompson Road Baptist Church. Four years ago this month, I handed the reins of the senior pastorate of this church (TRBC) to my successor, Pastor Joel Stevens. So, I am going back to the voices and faces of some very special people that Ellen and I have known, worked in ministry with, and prayed for, over, and with—laughing and weeping together, sometimes at the same time, spanning 40 years in the Circle City.
Henry and Mabel Davee: a deacon, retired, whose huge hands must have been about as big as his heart for God’s church. He knew the city of Indianapolis like the back of his hand, and in the early years he was my navigator, long before GPS. We got so involved in conversation on one occasion—when we were headed for a baby’s graveside service in London, IN—that we got on I-70 rather than I-74, and when we finally made it to the grave, the lonely grave digger, a young woman, was shoveling dirt back into and onto the infant’s grave, the family having left. I asked her to suppose that the grave she was filling was hers, and whether she was ready to meet God. In a few minutes I was able, Henry by my side, to lead her to Christ. The family was understanding and forgiving, and they called on me to do several funerals in the ensuing years.
Henry was the kind of deacon every pastor loves to have. He told me once that, before he retired, he arrived home tired and stretched out on his living room couch to rest, and there came to his mind a person he knew who was in Methodist Hospital and needed Christ. Tired as the big man was, he got up, drove downtown to the hospital, found the room and the patient, and the timing was perfect. The Holy Spirit having done His heart work already, Henry was able to lead him to Christ.
Henry and Mabel were the first to take us out to eat after we got settled into our new residence in Indy. On a Sunday following the morning service, we went to Gray’s cafeteria, in Mooresville, IN, known for delicious food. Back then, the line to get in the door seemed like half a block long, but it was worth the wait. Henry said Gray’s was the only establishment he would eat at, because as a trouble-shooter for Indianapolis Power and Light, he had been in too many kitchens of eating establishments to want to eat in any of them but Grays.
Henry was quiet, had a huge frame yet with knees bowed after years of climbing power poles, but he and his sweet wife could never escape my memory as long as I have anything left of my mind. He was be a “deacon’s deacon.” His memory and insight were deft, and his counsel was wise.
Early in my pastorate at TRBC, I decided, with the encouragement of the deacons, to conduct our own revival services. I was sensitive to dismissing each weeknight service on time, so that parents with school-age children could get their kiddies home and in bed at an acceptable hour. The only clock we had (before digital) was a wall-clock hanging at the back of the auditorium, visible from the pulpit and easy to see since I am far-sighted. I would glance at that clock once in a while to make sure I was not getting too lengthy with the message. On about Tuesday of the week, I had barely said “Amen” to the closing prayer, when Brother Henry met me in the front of the church and, not waiting until I had come down from the pulpit, looked me straight in the eye and shaking a bony index finger at me said, “Brother Tony, if you don’t stop looking at that clock back there on the wall, I’m going to put a calendar over it!”
I won’t mention his name, but Henry told me a humorous story about a well-known evangelist who was at TRBC back in the years before I came. This evangelist, a large man, was known for loving good food. Henry and Mabel had him over on a Thursday for a meal, and Mrs. Davee pulled out the stops, fixing fried chicken, mashed potatoes, home-made rolls, pie, and all the fixins. It was all you can eat for our dear evangelist friend, and Henry said he ate all he could eat. That night, the-next-to-last night of the meeting, about half-way through the message, the dear preacher turned white as a sheet, feeling the unsettling effects of the fried chicken and all. Pausing, he looked at whomever was pastor then (as I recall, Bro. Henry said it was Pastor Fred Moritz) and asked him to come take over the message and finish it. (Kind of like tag-team wrestling!) Upon the pastor’s coming to the pulpit, our evangelist friend made a quick exit out of the auditorium’s front door, and, as the story goes, promptly emptied himself of most of that huge, delicious dinner he had enjoyed a few hours before. He then went to his motel, packed up his belongings, and checked out!
It was a story that Henry Davee delighted in telling, and when he got to the finish, a grin from ear to ear spread across his face. Henry, by the way, grew up in Mooresville and remembered the legendary coach John Wooden, also a native of Mooresville. Henry used to accompany Pastor Roy Julian, who preceded Bro. Moritz as pastor, when Bro. Julian would hold special meetings in area churches; his preaching was with fire and lots of motion, and he was in considerable demand as a “revival” preacher. Bro. Henry told me that Pastor Julian, when the church treasurer or pastor would hand him the offering that had been given for the evening, could always tell when there had been lots of visiting pastors in the service on a given evening. Asked why, Bro. Julian would respond, “because of the number of one dollar bills in the offering.” Note: Julian had a great sense of humor, so don’t take the above remarks too seriously! He loved to make people laugh and he was a master at it.
Well, I had not intended to use all my space in remembrance of one person in this post, but my blessed memories of Henry Davee are too numerous to share in a statement or two. Many pastors reading this will probably recall in their ministries a deacon of like caliber. I hope every pastor has a Henry Davee to encourage, counsel, assist, and pray for them.
“For I have no man likeminded, who will naturally care for your state.” (Paul of Timothy, Phil.2:20)
YOU and GOD 