Bystanders-Freshman Hitchikers and the Drinking Trucker

I was just seventeen. It was snowing in Davidson as Bob Henderson I started the long hitchhike to Miami. Freshmen. We knew it all. We got to Charlotte and things did not go south. My nice new D-Sweater (for 10,000 hours of football sweat). We were hoping that some lovely ladies from Queens College would come along and pick us up. We were freezing. We were ready to settle for anything, and that is what we got—Chambless Brown. His truck had a fender hanging precariously on the right and a broken window where I sat. He had a piece of cardboard we could hold.
“Going to Columbia?”
“Yep.” Said the rather unkempt driver, a few teeth and tobacco stains fitted his conversational skills.
Bob was next to Mr. Brown and started sniffing. Beer smell. Lots of it. We wondered why the truck was weaving a slushy pattern on old U.S. 21.
We decided he needed to be saved. Right now.
The ninety miles took about four hours. That gave us time to thoroughly convert this half-drunk gnome-like driver, whether God was in on it or not. We have him hell, highwater, and heaven, the love of Jesus and the wrath of God in no particular order or practiced skill. One might only say that this duo of Davidson freshmen were sincere.
We had to get out in the drizzle. We were beyond snow. But before our exit we insisted that Mr. Chambless Brown ask Jesus Christ into his heart.
“Do you know receive Him as your personal Savior, and do you believe He died for all your sins?”
“Yep.” No emotion. No resolve. Not much knowledge. But we prayed for him and stood on the highway happy for our stellar witnessing skills. All we knew was he was from Bamberg.
Bob and I were roommates and prayed for Chambless Brown for a year and then forgot about it.
Later. 1966. On a jumbo jet from New York to Berlin to attend the first World Congress for Evangelism thanks to the kind and benevolent invitation of Dr. L. Nelson Bell. I sat next to an elder from a town I had heard about twenty years before. Bamberg, South Carolina.
Images of an old truck and a man named Chambless came to mind.
“Do you know Chambless Brown?
“I certainly do. Everyone knows Chambless.”
I steadied myself for bad news.
“He is a deacon over at First Baptist Church and has a fleet of trucks. He had a problem with alcohol but made a big change some years ago. What a difference.”
I was tempted to ask how many Chambless Browns were in Bamberg. I rejoiced and told Bob about the amazing Providence and grace of God upon my return.
This is what we learned. God can use a couple college clowns and get all the glory himself.
Once there was an atheistic lawyer who finally came to church with his wife. The pastor changed the sermon and made it palatable for his friend. At the end an invitation was given to receive the Lord Jesus. The lawyer was unmoved until an inept, overzealous lad went over doing the singing of the hymn and whispered, “Don’t you want to go to heaven?” “NO!” was the angry reply, and he stormed out of the church. That evening the pastor had a visitor. It was the lawyer. “I want to apologize for Bobby speaking to you, because whatever he said must have been crude.
“That is precisely why I am here.” said the lawyer. “I want to know about God.”

How about you, my friend?


Note: Incidentally a Reformed pastor from Bamberg visited my church one Sunday in Newark. I asked about Mr. Chambless Brown and the transformation story was confirmed.
Another thing I learned. Even a Presbyterian can help a Baptist Church in Bamberg.

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