After a lawsuit, a knife attack, and a tragic death,what good could
come from this fatal conflict?

Mark Tabb

“Brother Al, I need you to come down here.” Al Grounds recognized
the voice of his long-time friend, Sheriff John Cooper, on the other
end of the line. “There are some papers on my desk for you.” Al’s
mind began to race. Papers? Before he could put his question into
words, he heard: “I also have a warrant for your arrest.”

“A what?” Al asked.

“A warrant for your arrest. Look, Brother Al, you don’t need to
worry about anything. Just come down to the office. I know you’ll
do the right thing, and so will I.”

As Al hung up the phone he wondered if this had anything to do
with the annoying phone calls and letters he’d received from an
attorney representing several of his former church members. The
lawyer kept saying he was filing a lawsuit against Al and his deacons,
but Al never thought anything of it. No court would hear a case
that was essentially an internal church dispute.

A few weeks earlier a disgruntled group from his church, Calvary
Baptist in Fair Oaks, Kentucky, called a special business meeting
for the purpose of dismissing Pastor Al Grounds and removing from
membership everyone who did not live inside the city limits. The
meeting didn’t go the way Al’s critics expected. Instead of dismissing
Brother Al, the church ousted the thirteen. As they walked out of
the church building that night, the leader of the group, a seventy-something
woman named Imogene Hurst, snarled, “This isn’t over. This isn’t
over by a long shot.”

Deputy Tom Cole glanced up as Al walked through the doors of the
sheriff’s office. “Brother Al, I just want you to know that I don’t
want any part of this.” Tom’s voice rose in anger, “The papers,
they’re here on my desk, but I’m not touching them. I’m not giving
them to you. I want absolutely nothing to do with this.” His eyes
filled with tears as he stormed out of the room.

At that moment John Cooper entered the room. “The papers are over
here,” he said. His eyes fixed on the pastor. “It’s a lawsuit, Brother
Al. Someone’s suing you for one hundred forty thousand dollars.”
The sheriff shook his head as he spoke the words. “Craziest thing
I’ve ever heard of. And then there’s this,” he held up a piece of
paper Al assumed was a warrant for his arrest. “Don’t people have
anything better to do with their time?” the sheriff grumbled as
he jabbed the paper into his back pocket. That was the last Al would
see of the warrant.

Al walked across the room to the desk. Laid out before him were
the papers detailing the grounds for the suit against him. The suit
alleged Al Grounds and five deacons of the church did:

Commence a campaign to vilify each and all of the plaintiffs, and,
for the purpose of putting (them) out of the church and causing
them to stand in disrepute in the community. accused them in the
pulpit and before large numbers of people, libeled (them) as a group
and individually, not for any church purposes but for the pure and
express purpose of defaming (them) by falsely and maliciously imputing
to them infidelity and irreligious conduct in order to expose (them)
to public hatred, ridicule, and contempt and thus build public opinion
against (them) and cause them to stand in disrepute with both their
church and their community.

The plaintiffs not only asked the court to reinstate their membership
in the church, they also sought over $10,000 apiece in monetary
damages.

Al looked up from the pages. “Come on, John, this thing can’t be
for real, can it?”

“I’m afraid it is,” the sheriff replied. “But it’s like you’re
always telling me, Brother Al, God’s in control. He can’t like this
mess any more than you do.”

The storm before the storm

Al Grounds never set out to become the pastor of Calvary Baptist
Church, or any church. That was the last thing he wanted, in spite
of the fact that he first felt God calling him to preach shortly
after he was saved at age thirteen. He ignored God’s call throughout
high school. He ignored God during the year he lay in an army hospital
bed hoping his arm could be saved after it was nearly blown off
in Korea. When he returned home, Al married and built a successful
insurance business. Finally, after seventeen years of putting God
off, Al learned the Lord would go to whatever lengths necessary
to make himself heard.

“All right, say ‘ah,’” Dr. Franke told Al. Dr. Franke’s bedside
manner left a little to be desired. He was semi-retired and somewhat
annoyed with this new patient who insisted on seeing him right away.

“Ah cahn’t tay ah,” Al mumbled. It was hard to say anything while
the doctor had a grip on his tongue.

“Now say ‘ee,’” the doctor kept on. He prodded around in Al’s throat,
looking deep with a mirror. Al tried but no sounds came out. The
expression on Dr. Franke’s face changed. He let go of Al’s tongue
and sat down on his stool in front of his patient.

“Do you smoke?”

“I used to smoke five packs a day, Doc, but I gave it up six weeks
ago,” Al replied.

Dr. Franke shook his head. “I’m afraid you didn’t quit early enough.
There are some tumors in your throat.” He paused and swallowed hard.

“Are they malignant?”

“I think so.”

The words crashed down on Al. The rest of the office visit was
a blur. The next thing Al remembers he was stumbling through the
front door of his house. He fiddled with the key, trying to remove
it from the lock. He looked at his living room filled with expensive
things. His success suddenly seemed very empty. Al stumbled into
the bedroom and dropped to his knees. “God, I’ll preach for you.
I don’t know how long I have left, but I’ll use it to preach for
you. Only God, to preach I have to have a voice.”

Immediately Al felt the power of God surround him. He knew God
heard his prayer. Ten days later Dr. Franke re-examined him.

“Al, what on earth have you been doing?” he asked.

“I’ve just been praying, Doc,” Al replied.

“Well keep doing it. Two of the tumors have disappeared. I think
now we can operate.”

The operation worked. Al’s voice returned, and he kept his promise.
He began preaching, and he was determined to make up for lost time.

Called to Calvary

Al still didn’t think of himself as a pastor. He was too busy preaching:
on street corners, in neighborhood bars and small country churches,
anywhere and everywhere people would listen, Al would tell them
how God changed his life.

And they did listen.

People responded to the message wherever he went. Before long,
area churches began inviting Al to hold revivals. His style wasn’t
polished and his message couldn’t be simpler. But people came to
Christ as he preached.

As word of the insurance salesman-turned-evangelist spread, Calvary
Baptist Church decided he was just the man to come and inject some
life into their church. They invited him to come and hold one of
his week-long crusades. The week stretched into two, then three,
as crowds filled the building every night.

During this time the church’s pastor accepted a call to another
church and the deacons approached Al about taking his place.

“I’m no pastor, you don’t want me,” Al kept responding, but they
were persistent. “I don’t have time to pastor,” Al insisted, “I
have meetings planned well into next year.” The church’s leadership
assured him it didn’t matter. They wanted him to be their next pastor
and they were willing to do anything necessary to accommodate him.

Finally, after months of saying no, Al accepted the call to Calvary.

His first two years there flew by. People who never cared about
religion flocked to the church. Crowds packed the aisles. During
the summer people stood outside the windows to hear the services.
Never before in its history had the church grown so rapidly. People
drove from as far as 75 miles away for midweek services.

Even those outside the church took notice. In times of crisis they
called Brother Al. That’s when he first came to know both Sheriff
Cooper and Deputy Cole. Al walked with each of them through family
crises.

The more the church grew, the busier Al became. He never gave up
the insurance business, holding onto his agency while pastoring
the church. Those were great days for Al. God not only gave him
back his voice and his life, He blessed his ministry in ways Al
never imagined.

But not everyone shared his enthusiasm.

“It’s time for them to go”

The first sign of trouble came as a low rumble emanating from the
senior ladies’ Sunday school class. Al didn’t think much of it.
After visiting several class members, he decided only one or two
were actually upset. At the epicenter stood Imogene Hurst.

Imogene was always mad about something, but Al never imagined the
depth of her anger toward him. His days of preaching in bars embarrassed
her. She found his pastoral style undignified. But that only scratched
the surface. Imogene had enjoyed her role as church matriarch for
years. People looked to her before making major decisions. She wasn’t
the most respected member of the church, only the best informed.
She knew things about key leaders that they didn’t want anyone to
know, especially their spouses. And Imogene wasn’t shy about using
what she knew to get her way.

In Al Grounds, Imogene found herself up against a man she could
not manipulate. She decided he would have to go.

Al was too stubborn or too thick-headed to take a hint. He never
noticed when Imogene and her supporters stopped putting money in
the offering plate. Her statements about his dress and demeanor
went right over his head. Every time she complained about the outsiders
who filled her church, Al smiled and said, “Isn’t it great what
God is doing?”

And when Imogene told him she had some business to bring before
the church at the next business meeting, Al hardly blinked. If anything,
he looked relieved. And he was. At long last his opponents played
their trump card. After months of spreading rumors, they were going
public. Al hoped the meeting would be the turning point for the
church that would allow them to move forward.

The auditorium was packed for the September business meeting. After
dispensing with the usual round of reports and statistics, Imogene
Hurst asked to be recognized. Rising to her feet she began, “I’ve
been a member of this church all of my life. And all of my life
this has been my church, my home. Just like it’s been home to lots
of you. But it isn’t home any more.” She looked around the room.

“Now, thanks to that man,” she spat the words as she pointed at
Brother Al, “this church is full of people who don’t belong here.
They don’t live here, they don’t know us, they don’t belong. Now
it’s time for them to go.”

Imogene paused as if to gather her strength. “I make a motion that
Al Grounds be removed from the position of pastor and that all names
of those living outside the city limits of Fair Oaks be removed
from the church rolls.”

The motion received a quick second, but before it could be acted
upon, the meeting took a decisively different turn. One member after
another rose to defend their pastor. Stories flowed of how his ministry
had changed their lives. People told of late night calls to Al’s
house, of how he was there when they needed him. By the time the
business meeting concluded, the church had not only refused to remove
Al Grounds as pastor, it had rescinded the membership of Imogene
Hurst and 12 others.

As she left the church, Imogene vowed that this was not the end.

Al never imagined how true her statement was. After he first received
the papers from the sheriff, he tried not to worry. Five deacons
were also named in the suit. Al calmed their concerns.

“This thing will never go to trial,” he reassured them. “It is
a church matter, and last time I checked, the constitution guarantees
a separation of church and state.” After talking with his attorney,
Al expected to receive notification of the suit’s dismissal within
a matter of weeks. The notification never came.

And then there were four

Al’s phone began to ring at all hours. For the first few months
he would find nothing but silence on the other end. When voices
did begin speaking, they unleashed a wave of profanity. Al and his
wife would hang up, only to have the phone immediately start ringing
again.

The harassment continued to grow. One morning a large rock broke
through his picture window. Attached was a note with a three word
message: Go to hell. Many mornings he walked outside to find his
house or his car had been egged. Other pastors in town avoided him.
They didn’t want to take sides.

Then one Sunday morning a man approached the altar with a knife
in his hand. At the close of his sermon, Al walked down from the
pulpit to receive those making decisions. Sam Duncan slipped out
of his seat and began walking toward Brother Al as the organist
played “Just As I Am.” Al knew Sam didn’t like him, but he thought
this morning might be a breakthrough. As Sam came closer to the
front his steps quickened and his eyes narrowed. The knife slipped
out his sleeve as he passed the third pew from the front. “Watch
out, Brother Al,” a voice called. Two men jumped up and grabbed
Sam from behind.

“You deserve to die for what you’ve done to this church,” Sam screamed
as they forced him to the ground and dragged him from the church.
“Your kind ain’t worth killing.” His voice trailed off with a stream
of words most people wouldn’t use in church.

Al’s five deacons also found themselves fighting a 24-hour-a-day
battle. Threatening callers phoned their homes and harassed them
on the job. Compounding the pressure, the court refused to dismiss
the case.

With each passing month, it became more apparent that they would
have to go to trial. If they lost the case, Al and each of the deacons
would lose everything.

One Friday afternoon Al’s office phone began ringing. He hesitated.
The last thing he wanted to hear was one more suggestion on where
he should spend eternity. On the fifth ring he picked up the phone.
“Brother Al, it’s me, Jim. Can you talk?”

Al let out a sigh of relief. “Sure. I always have time for you.”
Jim Lindsey was the youngest of the deacons named in the suit. He
and his wife operated a cattle farm, one of the largest in the county.
It was the only life Jim had ever known.

“Pastor, I need to know, are we going to lose this thing? Be honest
with me.” Desperation rose in Jim’s voice.

“Listen Jim, there is no way God will allow us to lose. Besides,
these people don’t have any grounds for their accusations.” Al leaned
into the phone, “We didn’t do anything wrong, Jim. And we won’t
lose.”

“Thanks pastor, that’s what I needed to hear.” His voice seemed
calmer. “It’s just,” he let out a sigh, “I don’t know how much more
of this I can take.”

“It should be over soon,” Al reassured him as the conversation
ended.

That was the last time Al spoke to his deacon. That night Jim dismissed
himself from the dinner table and his wife and two young children,
walked out of the house, and shot himself in the head.

A deal with the devil

Judge Gerald Hinson’s biggest hurdle in starting the trial was
finding jurors. News of the case filled local newspapers for months.
Everyone in the area had already made up their minds.

Prospective juror number eight spoke for many of them. He didn’t
wait for the attorneys to ask questions. “This man is a man of God.
You know it,” he said, looking the judge in the eye, “and you know
it,” pointing toward the plaintiffs. “Everyone in town knows it.
But let me just tell you one thing. The Bible, the Word of God you
people claim to believe, says you better not lay a hand against
God’s anointed. That man right there, Brother Al, God’s anointing
is all over him.” He paused and looked around the courtroom. “You
people better be real careful what you do in this place, ’cause
God ain’t too happy about it.”

Prospective juror number eight didn’t make the final cut, but 12
others were finally seated. Al’s attorneys immediately asked for
dismissal.

“Now look,” the judge replied, “I have people on both sides of
this thing. We all do. We’d best let this thing run its course.”

The plaintiffs’ attorney set the tone with his opening remarks.
“These men-” he said, motioning toward Al and the four remaining
deacons, “these men have stripped my clients of their rights, and
have they removed my clients from the church into which they poured
their lives.”

Judge Hinson shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was only the
beginning. The first witness made the lawyer’s remarks seem tame.
“You people keep hearing this man referred to as some sort of man
of God,” she began, “but I’m here to tell you that he ain’t nothing
of the kind.” She fixed her eyes on Al. “I’m here to tell you that
Brother Al caused a bus wreck in Ohio that killed nineteen kids.
That’s right, he killed ‘em all.”

“I object,” Al’s attorney shouted.

The judge intervened. “Young lady, that’s a pretty serious charge
you’re making there. How do you know Al Grounds caused the deaths
of 19 children?”

“Well, that bus wrecked, didn’t it? And all them kids, they died.
That’s how I know he caused it.”

The plaintiffs’ attorney cringed. “No further questions, your honor.”
The rest of the witnesses for the plaintiffs on the first day were
hardly more credible.

By the end of the second afternoon, the plaintiffs’ attorney approached
Al and the others to discuss an out-of-court settlement. They agreed
that the suit would be dropped completely if the plaintiffs were
allowed to rejoin the church. However, before any of them could
rejoin they had to repent publicly and ask the church’s forgiveness
for the pain they’d caused.

The following Sunday all thirteen came forward during the invitation.
Not one actually used the words “repent” or “apologize” or asked
for forgiveness. Nevertheless, the church welcomed them back into
the fold. Most people seemed anxious to put the entire episode behind
them.

Ex nihilo

Al resigned the same day. Two years of hell had taken its toll.
His marriage was crumbling and his insurance business teetered on
bankruptcy. Emotionally spent, he could not find the strength to
save either.

In the end Al lost everything. His church. His business. His home.
His relationship with God.

Al woke up early one Sunday morning, two years later. He didn’t
often sleep late on the concrete floor of his apartment. Broke and
broken, he found refuge in a government housing project in Nashville.
It was Sunday, but Al had not planned to go to church. He didn’t
talk to God much after the divorce. “You gave me back my voice for
this?” was as close as he could come to praying. An hour or so after
waking, Al was at a church in the suburbs. The greeter at the door
asked, “Which do you prefer, chocolate or glazed donuts?”

“What I need can’t be found in a donut,” he replied.

That odd retort was the beginning of Al’s healing, and from it
a new ministry. With time Al realized because he endured such pain
in the pastorate, he could help other pastors through similar trials.
That’s been his mission and calling for more than twelve years.

Al eventually remarried, and today, with his wife Phyllis, Al aids
pastors in crisis through his organization, Restored Ministries.
As many as one hundred times a month, Al answers pastors’ calls
from all across the nation and from every denomination. They call
because Al Grounds will listen, but Al doesn’t stop there.

He and his wife have arranged housing for pastors who found themselves
with no place to live after being evicted from parsonages. They’ve
arranged bail for ministers who’ve been unjustly arrested after
conflicts within churches. They’ve purchased shoes for ministers’
children, paid medical bills, and flown across the country to try
to save a pastor’s marriage.

And when a pastor in crisis says, “You don’t know how I feel,”
Al responds, “Here’s how you feel, and tomorrow you’re going to
feel like this. Next week you’re going to feel like this, and three
weeks later you’re going to feel like this. But let me tell you
that the battle is the Lord’s, and if you stick to Him you will
emerge victorious.”

Al Grounds may be reached at Restored Ministries, 2025 Harbor Drive,
Smyrna, TN 37167. (615) 459-5360.

Al Grounds’s story is true. Other names and locations have been
changed.

Mark Tabb is pastor of First Baptist Church of Knightstown, Indiana.

Reproduced with Mark’s permission

Copyright © 2001 by the author or Christianity Today, Inc./Leadership
journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership. Fall
2001, Vol. 23, No. 4, Page 86

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This work, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Australia License.