Brother Bryan

by Keith Wommack

A book entitled Religion In Shoes, tells about the ministry of Rev. J. A. Bryan, otherwise known as Brother Bryan of Birmingham. Brother Bryan lived to pray.

The book describes a scene on a main street of Birmingham. “Office buildings and stores had poured out their thousands for the noonday sprint to lunch and back. Sidewalks were congested and the street corners were jammed with crowds waiting for the lights to change that they might dash from curb to curb. Down the street came a young woman in a great hurry. She reached the curb just as the light changed. The woman stamped her foot impatiently and said, ‘Oh, damn!’

“A hand touched her gently on the elbow, and above the noise of the street, she heard a quiet voice, saying, ‘Sister, let us pray.’

“She turned and heard an old man say, ‘O Lord, give us both patience to bear with these traffic lights. Amen.’ While she stood transfixed in the whirl of pedestrians, Brother Bryan moved off with the crowd.”

The first car he attempted to drive he had to give up. He just about violated every traffic law. Too much on his mind to pray about. Once, he turned his car around in the middle of the block and ran head-on into another car. The driver of the other car started calling him an old fool. “Hold on, my brother,” said the unruffled Bryan. “It was all my fault. Let us pray and thank the Lord that we were not hurt.” The man had never met anyone like that, and, completely taken by surprise, bowed while Brother Bryan prayed. When the prayer ended, without another word he stepped into his car and drove away.

Then a headline appeared in the paper –”Brother Bryan is Arrested.” He parked too near a fire hydrant. Not knowing it belonged to Brother Bryan, it was ticketed. When he came to court, there was a line of twenty-five people waiting to pay fines. He touched each with his gentle voice and ever-familiar “God bless you.” When they realized what he had come for, they became upset.

“I’ll pay his fine,” a man cried, and beside him a woman reached forward with a twenty-dollar bill. “No, let me.”

For thirty-five years Brother Bryan had ministered to the police department, visited their fatherless and widowed, preached to them, praised them, and loved them. The policemen also were on their feet; any one of them would pay his fine.

When Brother Bryan reached the desk, the officer in charge formally opened the case—and smiled.
“Do I hear any motions?” he asked.
“Yes, said the man who had first offered to pay his fine. “I move that the case be dropped.”

There was an outcry of seconds, and the officer declared the case settled. Brother Bryan was confused. His eyes filled with tears and his voice trembled as he said, “I just thank you so much.” Then he took off his hat and said simply, “Now we will have a little prayer.” The room fell quiet. Brother Bryan began, “O God, I thank Thee for the opportunity granted your poor servant to bring these people together for this moment of prayer. I thank Thee for having guided my car to the fireplug that I might be arrested and have this opportunity to glorify Thy name and bring these people together for thoughts of Thee. The day will be much happier for them for this moment.” Then his voice broke a little, “And I thank Thee especially, Lord, for the loyalty of so many a fine people, who have offered to pay an old man’s fine. And all of it to the glory of Thy holy name. Amen.”

The fragrance of his prayerful life permeated the entire city of Birmingham.

What a wonderful legacy.

This story makes me think of how divine Love, unobstructed by personal or mortal sense, shone so big and so bright that its Christ-presence and clarity could be understood by worldly thinking only as a man preaching and healing. This man was Christ Jesus. This same Christly-presence, to some degree, is true of Brother Bryan.

Divine Love was singing a melody of compassion and grace. And though it seemed as a man who loved to pray but wasn’t too good behind the wheel, it was an individual expression of Love, always Love being Love.

Dear Father-Mother, Love, give me the humility and simple trust of Brother Bryan. Teach me to pray without ceasing. And let the fragrance and melody of my prayer-filled life be felt as a comforting and compassionate touch to those around me, as well.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 26th, 2008 at 4:33 pm and is filed under Love. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.