Putting Kingdom Interests First
AS TOLD BY ROSCO JONES
THERE were ten children in our family, and we lived on a farm some ten miles east of Raleigh, North Carolina. Here I was born on September 11, 1895, and here I continued until I was twenty-one years of age, helping my father to make ends meet. My parents were quite religious, members of the local Baptist Church. Father was a deacon, and made sure we all got to church services regularly and that we were supplied with all kinds of religious storybooks.
Having had some earlier contact with the Bible Students, as Jehovah’s witnesses were then known, and having read some of their literature, my father knew that war and true Christianity just do not mix. He used to talk it over with me. But, when the United States entered World War I, I had to register in the first draft. One Sunday evening three preachers came to our place and stayed late trying to convince Dad that it would be a blessing for me to join the army.
WAR’S HORRORS BRING DECISION
On March 31, 1918, I was finally drafted. By the time our division landed in France I had already lost all confidence in the clergy. I could easily see that the God of the Bible was not in that war. There were nine huge transports carrying, in all, a hundred thousand men. Several destroyers acted as convoys and kept attacking submarines at a distance.
Once landed, we were hurried to the front line facing the Hindenburg Line. It took us nine days of vigorous hiking to make it on time. We passed our cannons, lined up hub to hub for many miles, ready to open a bombardment of the German positions. Can you imagine the scene when the big cannons started that night, a hundred thousand men lying on the ground waiting for the signal to go forward, three miles in front of the Allied artillery and two miles from where the shells were bursting on the enemy line? The earth under our feet rocked and rolled as though we were riding a rough freight train. All other sound was drowned out, and at times the night flashed brightly as though by floodlights.
At first it was frightening. Many of the men passed out from shell shock. After the first fifteen minutes I became calm and began to think of the many Bible topics my father had discussed with me. I recalled how God protected those who served him, and I made a sincere vow to God that night. If I ever lived through this nightmare and was permitted to learn more about His ways, I would devote myself to telling others the truth about him and his purposes.
Eventually I was trained as a battalion scout. That meant working on my own most of the time, keeping the enemy under observation without being seen, mapping the territory between the two armies, locating and getting help to lost or wounded personnel. Wounded soldiers had to be made comfortable until first aid arrived, and the identification tag and personal effects of dead soldiers had to be brought back to headquarters. It was dangerous work, but somehow I got through unharmed.
Then the war was over, after four months of heavy fighting. As soon as I was discharged I hurried home to rejoin the family. Everyone seemed fine, though my father had now become an intolerant Baptist. I could not agree with his views anymore, and so moved to Richmond, Virginia, and there, in 1922, I got married. Still having in mind my wartime vow, I joined the Methodist Church, much to the disgust of my father.
Meantime, my younger brother, Leroy, was living in Washington, D.C. One day he came in contact with one of the Bible Students and had an argument with him about Bible doctrine. Since Leroy did not have his Bible with him at the time, he invited the Bible Student to come to his home, where they continued the discussion for many hours. Leroy was convinced, and his letters to me began to sound quite radical. I invited him to come to Richmond and spend Saturday night with me so I could straighten him out.
When he arrived that afternoon I suggested that we go into the bedroom and pray. “No!” he said, “but let us stick to the Bible right now and we can pray later.” Till 3 a.m. that morning our Bible study and discussion lasted, and I knew that what he had was the truth. I could not get to sleep all that night, from sheer thankfulness. I now realized that I was on the right track and would be able to carry out my vow.
ASSOCIATION WITH GOD’S PEOPLE
From Leroy I found out about the Bible literature published by the Watch Tower Society. I gave him $7 and told him to get me everything available. I could see that I had a long way to go. As soon as the books came to hand I started studying. Meantime, that very morning after Leroy departed for his home, I took my Bible, got on a bus and rode for about three miles; then I started back on foot, calling at homes and trying to tell people some of the things I had learned.
Next, Leroy wrote to tell me that a Mr. Skinner was coming to Washington from the Watchtower headquarters in Brooklyn to give a special Bible lecture. My wife and I made the trip on Saturday, and that evening I shared in distributing handbills on the streets. The following morning Bible Students took me out in the house-to-house preaching work, and I began to see how best to share Bible knowledge with others. The lecture that day was exactly what I needed, and I hurried home and prepared to start witnessing to my neighbors the following evening.
At the very first door, before I could say much, the woman bawled me out and slammed the door in my face. That really jarred me, so much so that I went back home to cool off. Soon, however, I went right back and started at the next door and continued for five hours without a break.
The meeting in Washington had whetted my appetite, so I looked up the congregation there in Richmond. I was warmly welcomed, and soon began to make some progress.
By 1926 there were eight of us colored Bible Students in Richmond and it seemed advisable to commence our own congregation, seeing that some of the newly interested ones were hesitant about attending the congregation of whites. Meantime my wife and I wrote my father and arranged to have a vacation in North Carolina, taking with us two cartons of books. We soon placed all this literature in the home district, and I arranged to meet with many of my old neighbors outside the church on the following Sunday. In the big oak grove that surrounds the church I had more people listening to me than the preacher had inside. The preacher, my own first cousin, came out to inquire what was going on, so the people asked him the same question I had just been explaining to them: “Where do people go when they die?” He gave the right answer, but then could not explain why so many preachers say that everyone goes right off to heaven or hellfire at death.
Then the board of deacons got after me—my father was one of them—and when they threatened that they were going to turn me out of the church, I told them that that was impossible, for I was not and did not ever intend to become a member. At this they tried to change their tune and use persuasion, but I had made up my mind. I would be a preacher of righteousness, and not the kind of preacher that says one thing and does another.
In 1929 I had been promoted to be one of the headwaiters at the hotel where I worked, but the job kept me from attending meetings of the Christian congregation. I told the manager that I would be leaving early every Sunday in order to get to our Bible study. He told me that I had better look for another job. This happened several times, but when I went back my job was always waiting for me. I carried on in this job for three years, but then it began to bother me that I was missing most of the assemblies of Jehovah’s witnesses because of being tied down in this way. What should I now do?
SERVING THE KINGDOM FULL TIME
My wife, who had not been at all sure about my new religion, took her stand with me in 1932. We began to make plans to enter the full-time preaching service wherever we might be needed. By 1933 we were ready to go. My brother Leroy and his wife were already engaged in full-time preaching, so we joined them in a territory at Allendale, South Carolina. A group of six of us pioneer ministers helped to organize a congregation in Atlanta.
We had the great joy, in 1935, of being able to attend every session of the Washington, D.C., convention of Jehovah’s witnesses. From there we were assigned to work in rural areas of Georgia, where we had some outstanding experiences. For example, in one place where a white man gave us permission to park our trailer on an unused section of road, another white man farther up the road told us not to be there overnight if we wanted no trouble. The neighborhood was full of colored people, and many of them begged us to go, for they knew this man was really mean and would cause lots of trouble. They said that he had had a colored man killed about three months ago, and another had been whipped with an ax handle.
We decided to stay, after going to Jehovah in prayer, and nothing happened that night. Next morning, just as we were about ready to leave for our work, we saw a heavily built white man carrying an ax handle and making his way toward us. When he repeated the warning of the other white man, I told him that I did not have anything to do with him or the other, and that I was not afraid of him. Finally I invited him into our trailer. He accepted, leaving the ax handle at the door. While there he saw the Bible booklet with the word “Government” in the heading, and thereafter must have spread the word around that I was a government man, for from then on I could not have had better cooperation than I received from whites as well as colored people.
A few weeks later we were working in another area, notorious for its oppression of the colored people. Just before we reached the colored section where we planned to preach, our car ran out of gas. Just up the road about a quarter of a mile we could see a gas station. On the right side of the road was one white man plowing, on the other side four white men with a bulldog, a rifle and a gallon of whiskey. One of them was picking a guitar. As I sent my wife up ahead for a gallon of gas the four approached me, and the one playing the guitar said: “Dance for us, old man.” Another said: “Give him a drink of liquor.” I told them I could do neither, for I was a minister. Then they demanded that I preach a sermon, sing a song or pray a prayer This also I refused to do, for, as I told them, God is not to be mocked.
Meantime, the plowman approached and told the other four to quit meddling. He then asked where I was going and what I was doing. When I explained, he said, “I know a real good place for you.” We got the car started and he got in with us and took us to his own place. As we drove into his yard, he shouted: “Honey, here are some of your people.” What a time we had there! We were made right at home for several days, sharing the meals cooked by his wife. Every evening would wind up with three or four hours of keen Bible discussion. The whole family was interested. And when we left, the woman cried and thanked Jehovah for sending us there. They had gained a knowledge of much Bible truth through the literature, but we were the first Witnesses that they had ever met.
ENDURING AS GOOD SOLDIERS
Not all experiences ended up so pleasantly, however. At Seale, Alabama, I was arrested on a minor breach of traffic law and on a summary trial was fined $35 or six months on the chain gang. I did not have the money, and faced the six-month sentence when the convention of Jehovah’s witnesses at Columbus, Ohio, was just a matter of days away. When my wife told me she would bring me back all the news, I told her that somehow I hoped to get there to hear the opening song, “Give Praise to Jehovah.” Meantime, the judge told me that he would make it prison for me, rather than the chain gang. So there I was in prison. Saturday morning an old colored lady in the neighborhood came to the jail and told me she would pay the fine for me so that I could get to the convention, and I could repay her later. Things then moved fast, and I got to Atlanta the day before the group there was to leave for Columbus.
From then on there was no more problem. My Christian brothers contributed funds, one of them paying my return fare to Columbus, and someone else handed me a box of food to last us for the next two days. I had to slip off and cry, so happy was I that Jehovah had seen fit to open the way for me to get to the big convention at Columbus, in time to hear the throng of worshipers unite in singing “Give Praise to Jehovah.” At that assembly the Watch Tower Society gave the full-time pioneer ministers the privilege of placing the book Enemies and the magazine Consolation (now Awake!) with all others in attendance. By the time we got back to our assignment we had enough funds to return the loan of $35 and to buy some badly needed clothing replacements.
When my wife and I commenced offering magazines on the streets of Opelika, Alabama, we were arrested and convicted of a violation of their sidewalk ordinance. This case went through the courts right up to the Supreme Court of the United States, where the ruling went against us in 1942, though the following year the court reversed itself. Meantime a great deal of publicity was given to the Kingdom work and, while some opposers were forced to come out and show their wrong spirit openly, many honest persons had their eyes opened to God’s truth.
La Grange, Georgia, was our assignment in 1941. Here, too, the clergy and the police considered themselves the censors of everything that people said or did. They tried to scare us out of the town by threats, and then eventually arrested my wife. When I called to inquire about her, they told me to appear at court next morning. I arrived early and a group of policemen grabbed me, took me down in the basement and beat me without mercy. Four of them held me, one on each arm and leg, and, raising me off the ground, started kicking me on the stomach and ribs, all of them taking turns. They also beat me over the head with an old bicycle tire.
I came to my senses in a cell, face and head badly swollen, so much so that I could hardly see. I was held for four or five days and then released after one officer took out his pistol and warned me that if he saw me in town again with that black box (my bookcase) he would shoot me. But next day, despite the threats, I determined to make some calls on interested people. As I walked along I could see the squad car coming with two or three men in it. Now, I thought, is the critical point of my life. But as they passed me, they all looked the other way. They did try to influence my landlady to put us out, but she stood her ground.
NO RETIREMENT
For twelve years I enjoyed the great privilege of being a traveling representative of the Society throughout all the southern states. Then in 1955 with my wife I attended the Watchtower School of Gilead for missionary training. That was a wonderful time of taking in knowledge and enjoying the close association with my Christian brothers from other parts of the field and also those from the Brooklyn headquarters of the Society. Then we resumed service as special pioneer ministers, that is, serving in towns where there was need to initiate and build up new congregations of Jehovah’s witnesses.
In May 1965 I was sent to the Veterans Administration Hospital at Jackson, Mississippi, for treatment and observation. When I was discharged the doctor told me I was suffering from arteriosclerotic heart disease, duodenal ulcer, hemorrhoids and bad eyes. He told me I would have to take things easy from now on. Nevertheless, I am getting along fine, and have not slowed down much yet. As I look back over the forty-odd years of service to Jehovah and count the many blessings that have been mine, I have no regrets; my joy is full. And still the Kingdom interests come first in my life.