Greetings, faithful readers, and welcome to the Spring edition of The Sacred Sandwich.

For those who knew our late brother Constant Joseph Arbuckle, it should come as no surprise that the League has finally adopted a proper motto which exemplifies the kind of Kingdom work that Bro. Arbuckle stood for, and for which the League hopes to further emulate: “A Mule. A Bible. A Mission.”

Bro. C.J. Arbuckle was a simple farmer by vocation, but after much wrestling with God over whether he should pursue the things of this world for the sake of comfort or accept his calling as a proclaimer of the Gospel for the sake of Christ, he succumbed to the prodding of the Spirit and with great joy became an itinerant country preacher and church planter in the County of Nodaway and beyond. The only possessions he had for his work were a mule named Truman and a tattered Bible; yet by the grace of God, he and his family’s comforts were always met as he pursued his humble ministry throughout the tri-state area. Though Bro. Arbuckle did not officially establish the League of Tyndale, his dedication to the Gospel was so profound among the people of Nodaway that it planted the seeds that would eventually grow into the League. Indeed, in later years, Bro. Arbuckle served two terms as president of the League, and was president emeritus until his death ten years ago.

I first met Bro. Arbuckle in the long, dark winter of my nineteenth year when boys of my age, full of spit and vinegar, were stymied by the oppressive siege of knee-deep snow and desperately searching for any activity to alleviate our colossal boredom. My friends Lydell Butterworth, Hamish Rooney and I had taken into our minds to go ice fishing on Earl McGonigle‘s pond, though none of us had any experience with such an obscure sport. So severe was the monotony during that barren season that we were very excited at the prospect of taking an axe to the ice and sitting on lawn chairs in the frigid air with our fishing poles poised with great expectation. No doubt, this would be the highlight of our wintertime, right next to a sizzling game of Parcheesi with my Aunt Thelma.

Two hours into our impending frostbite (with no fish in sight), we saw an old man on muleback approach the pond's edge, dismount, and walk on the ice towards us. Introducing himself as Bro. Arbuckle, he inquired upon the state of our sanity. We, in turn, informed him of our impulsive search for the smallest of thrills to ease our boredom in the midst of these arctic days. Immediately a twinkle leapt from his eyes and he explained to us that there was an excitement to be had that would transcend any glory found in that ice hole. He invited us to put down our rods and follow him back to his home where hot coffee and a warm fire could spark further conversation on the matter. We gladly accepted on behalf of our frozen appendages.

I can still remember the pop and crackle of burning hedgewood in the fireplace of his modest farmhouse as Bro. Arbuckle began to speak of the desperate state of our souls and the Good News of redemption through Jesus Christ, the Crucified. It wasn’t the first time I had heard this message, but Bro. Arbuckle’s passion was so palpable that it infected me with a stomach-churning excitement. His twinkle was now a bonfire in his eyes as he spoke of Jesus and the glory of His resurrection, and how a life in Christ was filled with great joy and hope, even in the midst of our suffering. Every gospel truth he spoke was electrified by the power of the Spirit, and soon the boredom that had driven us to the pond had vanished.

To make a long story short: this would be the beginning of my walk with the Lord and a lifelong brotherhood with C.J. Arbuckle. He was a simple man of simple means with a simple message, but oh! what spiritual fruit it produced by the power of the Word and the Spirit. For years to come, my friends and I would be taught, baptized, and shepherded by this servant of God, and it was under this kind of faithful, Bible-based mentoring that the first thoughts of a League of Tyndale began to emerge among me and my friends as we grew in the Lord.

Aye, but here comes the twist to this story. One week after the ice fishing incident, Earl McGonigle, who could no longer suppress his secret, confessed to me that his pond had never been stocked with fish. He admitted that he had been feeling a bit ornery on the day that he had given us permission to go ice fishing on his property and was quite tickled to send us off on a fool's errand. He apologized for his prank, of course, but it was difficult to gauge his sincerity in the midst of a laughing jag that was so lengthy and robust that it literally brought him to tears. Said Earl between his hysterics, "Angus, my boy, there’s a fine line between a fisherman and an idiot sitting on ice."

True enough, Earl, but what you meant for evil, the Lord used for good. It is fully resolved in my mind that the sovereign Hand of God brought me and my friends to the pond that day and granted us the amazing opportunity to meet Bro. Arbuckle, a true fisherman of God who found three young minnows named Lydell, Hamish, and Angus caught in his net. All I can say is, Glory be to God for His grace and wisdom in this matter.

In closing, I would like to thank League historian Eldon Drake for reminding us of the legacy of Bro. Arbuckle during our last meeting and suggesting the fitting slogan which aptly defines the objective of the League in the cause of sola Scriptura: "A Mule. A Bible. A Mission." As Christians and fellows of the League, may we all be like Bro. Arbuckle and never forget our mission to spread the Good News of Jesus Christ with a twinkle in our eyes, a Bible in our hand, and a good mule to take us wherever the Lord sends us.