When Carl Clifton Booth (1882-1970) of Taylor, Texas, was a boy – that would have been in the early 1890s – times were hard, and his family’s Protestant congregation fell behind in salary payments to their pastor. The congregation began a campaign to raise the amount due, and little C.C. wanted to do his part. He scoured back alleys and found eight empty whiskey bottles in perfect condition, called on saloon keeper Patrick Moriarty, and sold the bottles to him for a penny each. He tied his pennies carefully in a knot in his handkerchief, and proudly carried them with him to church on the day designated for the special collection.

C.C. forever remembered the pastor’s sermon that day. “The church was far behind on its contract, he said. You pay your rent or get thrown out, you pay your grocery bill or don’t eat, and you pay your pastor – or else. He added that he worshiped no nickel and dime Lord, and he didn’t want nickels and dimes,” C.C. remembered. “He didn’t even mention pennies.” The little boy stood up, fled from the chapel, and threw his knotted handkerchief away. He vowed that someday he would find a church where no collections were made. Continue reading Carl Clifton Booth: The Good Shepherd of West Dallas →