Heard today that Carlton Pearson, the guy hugging my father, the guy who tried to convince the Christian faithful that other beliefs, other people, didn’t have to be wrong or damned to hell for Christianity to work, died today.
He largely failed to get that message across, especially to those he once pastored, but what a glorious fight he waged.
May his memory be a blessing.
May his courage be a cudgel against arrogance and sanctimony and certainty.
(This from a piece in August, 2017)
So we run into Carlton Pearson [pictured above] on the way to valet at "River Stix" Casino tonight and I introduce him to my father.
“What do you do?” my father asked.
“What do you do?” Carlton responded.
“Got a half hour, I’ll tell you the story. Or better yet, wait for the movie. Its’s in color.”
“I love this cat,” Carlton said.
They get along well.
As we get in the car, my father asks who that was; so, briefly, I tell him about how Pearson at one time had the largest church in Tulsa, with over 5,000 parishioners, and how he was heir to the ORU throne, until he lost his kingdom, as it were, when he decided to tell his congregation one day that God hears the prayers of all and that heaven wasn't just reserved for Christians.
"Maybe he had a dream and God came to him and said, 'Knock it off. There's enough room for everyone.'"
Wouldn't it be nice if we lived in a world where it was a given that God, if one is absolutely necessary for one's sanity, is equal opportunity for every last one of its creations, although the favorite prayers come from unexpected acts of kindness? You are I am sure grateful to have known such a person.
Of course t he *real* Christians would get the boot from the "Christians."