Small Town News

Gods servant doesnt use tobacco

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After I answered God's call to preach, my father-in-law told me, "You can not be a preacher and use tobacco." I promptly told him, "I know a lot of Catholic priests that smoke." His reply was. "I don't care about them, but you cannot chew tobacco and be a preacher." We went through this conversation again and again for several months.

I was working at this time on the Pinecone Ranch just outside of Tomball, Texas; one of my jobs there was to take care of and tend to 35 heifers that we were keeping for breeding stock. They were in a 50 acre pasture away from all other cattle. The pasture had a barn and lot with a water trough, the trough was ten by ten and three feet deep. There was a water well and there was an air compressor powered with a one horse gasoline engine. When the trough was near empty, you had to fill the gas tank and find something to do until it ran out of gas; then you had to fill the tank again and start the engine again to finish filling the trough.

Well, it was either July or August, I don't remember which. I do remember that it was extremely hot and humid. I drove to the pasture in the ranch truck, which had a new battery in it (this is important to this story). I pulled up to the lot, and the heifers were standing by the trough bawling for water. I looked, and the trough was empty. 1 filled the gas tank, started the engine and began walking the fence line to see that everything was in order, that is fence all up and no broken wires. By the time I got back to the lot, tank was about half full; I sat down in the shade, and cut myself a fresh chew of tobacco and worked it around in my mouth until it was laying just right. Then the engine ran out of gas and I filled the tank again and started it up. I walked to the truck, got in and turned the key, rrrup. rrrup, rrrup, was all the engine would do. 1 got out and raised the hood, 1 checked the oil and the water then looked at the tires (I am not a mechanic). I got back in the truck, turned the key, rrrup, rrrup, click, click, click, then silence. I got back out of the truck, walked around a bit. then I said, "God are you trying to tell me something." I got down on my knees in the middle of that cow lot and started praying. In the middle of my praying my mouth got full of tobacco juice and I had to spit or drown. 1 then said to myself, "What am I doing talking to God with this in my mouth?" I then spit the tobacco out in ray hand and threw it as far as 1 could and got back on my knees and finished my prayer.

After praying, I walked over to the truck and got in, turned the key and "roooom" it cranked right up. As I was driving the mile and a half out of the woods, 1 heard a voice clear as a bell "Buddy, do you love me enough to throw that sniff away?" I knew then what God had tried to tell me, and 1 spit the tobacco in my hand and threw it out the window. Then I said, "God, I love you enough."

It was strange, God took all my desire for alcohol away, but he left the tobacco for me to quit. I still craved it. I could still taste it, 1 still wanted it, but God wanted me to quit.

A few years later, while working on our house at San Augustine, I got to craving tobacco so bad 1 could die. No one was around, so I got in my pickup, pulled out on the highway and started to town to get a plug of Days Work; as 1 was going down the road, I heard a voice, "Buddy do you still love me?" I will work it like this, foot off gas pedal, foot on brake pedal, turn around and back to the house.

No more chewing tobacco for God's servant.

Clayton "Buddy" Hazel! was born almost 80 years ago, at home, in a small Texas town. He has been in Malakoff since 1973 and is recently retired as pastor of.Parkview Baptist Church. His column is excerpted from his book, "Memories, Tales and Special Events of My Life." If you are interested in a copy of the book (there's now a Vol 2), contact The Malakoff News at 903-489-0531.



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© 2011 The Malakoff News Malakoff, Texas. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from DAS.

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