Breakfast prayers answered when Mr. Jack comes back

Thanks to Jack Lowery, I have watched the sun come up over Telfair County on Saturday mornings.

I have seen the dawn stretch across the railroad tracks in McRae, the first rays peeping over the horizon. I have witnessed sunrise services from the edges of row crops and tops of bridges.

It wasn’t always easy to get out of bed and drive 90 miles through the darkness, especially during the winter months on my only day of the week to sleep late.

When I saw 229 area code on my phone, I knew it Mr. Jack inviting me to come down and break biscuits at the Midway Prayer Breakfast. For many years, I tried to attend at least once a year.

I have been thinking about Mr. Jack these past few weeks after his daughter, Kathy Lann, contacted me about his health. He fell at his home back in June, a few weeks before his 89th birthday. He broke his collarbone, hit his head and had to have surgery in Macon in late August for a brain bleed.

He has been going through rehabilitation and physical therapy at a hospital in Hazlehurst and, Lord willing, is scheduled to come home this weekend.

He plans to return the twice-monthly prayer breakfast once he regains his strength and starts walking again. There hasn’t been a meeting since late March, when the pandemic closed church doors everywhere.

The month before, more than 100 folks gathered at Midway United Methodist Church– at the crossroads halfway between McRae and Milan – to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the prayer breakfast.

The breakfasts were started by Mr. Jack, along with seven other men on Feb. 18, 1995 in a cinder-block room about the size of a walk-in closet.

For months, folks in this rural community have been sending “knee-mail,’’ praying for the recovery and return of Mr. Jack.

The man who has spent his life praying for others has been lifted by the prayers of those around him.

“He knows they have been praying for him,’’ Kathy said. “It’s the only way he has been able to make it through.’’

Jack grew up at the Midway church and has been a member since he was a child. He lives less than a mile from its doors. His grandfather, Andrew Lowery, built a brush arbor church on the property in 1893.

He had no idea the number of men attending that inaugural prayer breakfast would triple by the end of the first of the year. But he had faith, and church members soon were knocking out walls to expand the fellowship hall to accommodate the growing numbers. When the space was expanded for a third time, it was larger than the sanctuary.

Folks from dozens of local churches soon began stopping by on Saturday mornings for the food and fellowship.

“Just a country breakfast,’’ Kathy said. “Scrambled eggs. Grits. Biscuits and red-eye gravy. Fatback, smoked sausage and bacon.’’

Longtime members joke that, if you fill your plate, they will induct you as a “full” member. Although it’s an old joke, they still laugh about it.

“Daddy just loves people and has a passion for people being saved,’’ Kathy said. “He talks about planting seeds. He says if he can feed them physically, hopefully people will get fed spiritually when they come.’’

Continuity is a blessed assurance, too. The menu rarely changes. The traditional hymn, “I Want to Be There at the Roll Call” has been sung at every meeting since the beginning. They pass out the words on coffee-stained sheet music but most of the three dozen regulars know it by heart.

The heartfelt prayers are unscripted and unrehearsed. They are lifted for the sick and lonely. They are extended to teachers, missionaries, soldiers, doctors, farmers and our nation’s leaders.

In a changing world, it’s comforting to know the prayer breakfast has remained, for the most part, unchanged. It also has adapted to the times. It now meets twice a month – on the second and fourth Saturdays. And it no longer is a men’s ministry. Women and children from area churches also are welcome.

“It’s non-denominational and open to everyone,’’ Kathy said. “There is no color in heaven.’’

When Mr. Jack is able to walk through the door again, a lot of people will have big smiles on their faces – even if you can’t see it because of their masks.

It will be an answered prayer.

Ed Grisamore teaches journalism at Stratford Academy in Macon. His column appears on Sundays in The Telegraph.