The Yellow Rose Wedding

The man rushed into my office in Navasota.  "You the preacher?"  he asked. I nodded and he quickly asked, "Got boots?"  I nodded, and he was so relieved!  (and I was so curious.)

He launched into the story.  The marriage was to take place in two days and the minister was very ill.  Could I do it?  Oh, probably.  Would I wear the boots?  Sure, but now I was totally curious.

The scene played out well.  We gathered on the front porch of the long-abandoned Masonic lodge building in Plantersville, TX, an almost empty old cross-roads town.  An enormous Texas flag was draped to form the backdrop, cascades of yellow roses were on the columns, and the bridal party rolled up in wagons.  The preacher DID wear boots.  The wagon train rolled out after the ceremony, headed to a backwoods barbecue reception.

Happy people, having fun, with almost all the symbols flipped beyond recognition.  Like lots of folks, the priority list was totally garbled.

1.  Preacher wears boots.
2.  Do this on the front porch of a now abandoned house of honorable commitments.
3.  Yellow roses everywhere - - true to the song, but not really.  (The "yellow rose of Texas" was actually a high-yellow mulatto camp follower that Sam Houston sent to "entertain" Santa Anna during his siesta time, causing General Santa Anna to be totally distracted and surprised by the Texian attack.)

It was probably the happiest, most "mixed signal" celebration ever.

Sometimes we take great and powerful poetry and symbols (often Old Testament stories and American history) and re-present them in a way the originals would never recognize.  Which may not amount to anything earth-shaking, except that it cheapens and dumbs down our greatest treasures into decor and window dressing.  In this case, a couple's highest commitment was wrapped in pretty shabby choices.  The wrapping took center stage, distracting from their own promises.

I wondered why they didn't have a simpler celebration that focused on high and honorable commitments, or even on the love they probably shared with each other.

I bet God wonders why we all do that kind of thing, over and over.  Of course, it doesn't HAVE to be that way, if we choose.