Preaching Through the Pain

Chapter 1

A Humble Beginning

I grew up in North Carolina, the third oldest of seven children. My parents were sharecroppers. We lived in the country between two small towns, the larger of the two called Kinston.

We grew up in the church. The country churches held services once a month because in those days usually the Pastors had to drive a long distance to get to their church and they also pastored more than one church, so we attended different denominations.

We went to the Methodist church sometime on the first Sunday, on the second Sunday we were at my mother’s church which was and still is the Disciples Church of Christ, and on the third Sunday we were at the Holiness church.

We loved going there because the people seemed to really have a good time singing and shouting. As children, we didn’t understand all that was going on except that they sure were having a good time and they were happy while doing it.

They would have something called testimony time.

I asked my mother once if they were so happy about what God was doing for them why were they crying, my mom said because they were happy and they were thanking God for being so good to them. I didn’t understand it then but I do now. They were letting their friends and neighbors know that if God had brought them through their storm, He would surely bring them out of theirs.

There were times when we weren’t able to go to my mother’s church and we would go to the Baptist church that was about a mile from our house, and we walked that mile to get to the Church and we were always there in time for Sunday school.

Since we lived in the country, we didn’t get out at night very much so the Baptist church would have prayer meeting on the fourth Sunday instead of during the week which we attended most of the time.

As I got older most of my friends were attending the Baptist Church so my parents finally allowed my older brother, sister and myself to attend the on second Sunday for Sunday school and church.

There was a revival one week and a group of us decide we wanted to join church. The adults were so happy that so many young people were coming into the church. My mother had given her approval but I always felt that she had hoped that we chose her church.

I remember vividly the Saturday that I was baptized, it seemed as if there were about twenty of us and we were all dressed in white wading out into the murky water for the deacons to baptize us. I remember I wasn’t afraid because we had been taught and my mom had told me that Jesus was also baptized.

As the group of us were going into the water which I called a river, to be baptized the mothers and deacons of the church were singing the hymn “Take me to the water to be baptized” I’ll never forget it, I felt really good when we came out of the water and I remember thinking to myself that I just wanted whatever my mom and her friends had, and maybe one day I would want to testify and cry because I would be happy too.

After we united with the church I started singing in the choir and ushering with the junior ushers.

One reason my mom allowed us to join another church was she knew if we were disobedient we would be corrected on the spot by an adult, plus they would tell our parents and we wouldn’t be able to be with our friends anymore on Sunday. I still try to attend a couple of those churches as often as possible when I go home.

Even though I didn’t know it at the time, the young man that would become my husband also attended the same church I united with.

I didn’t leave home until I got married. My husband and had I attended the same church and same school; he graduated before I did because he was a few years older. We started dating after he went into the military. He was my first love. I had always wanted children but were having problems carrying a baby full term but after several miscarriages we finally had our son. We traveled extensively because of the military and finally retired in San Antonio.

I had some wonderful years with my husband and son but nothing could compare to the feeling I had on the day I accepted my calling into the ministry and the day I preached my first sermon. It was and still is a joy and peace that I cannot explain.

So there we were that Sunday in January of 2005, with family and friends, I had just finished my first sermon, God let me know he was pleased, and I was so happy I cried

.

Now I fully understood why the saints were shouting and crying, for it was truly a time for praising and giving thanks to Him.

I have learned we should always praise God and let our loved ones, family and friends know that we care because we never know when it will be the last time we see them or hear their voice. God is the only one that knows our future and the plans He have for us. What we think our future is going to be usually totally different from the plan He has already put in place. I am so glad He does not think as man thinks.

We know that the Bible tells us that his ways and thoughts are not like ours.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” ( Is. 55:8-9).

We don’t always understand what God does or how and why He does certain things the way he does but we do know that He’s working it for our good.