When I was a Christian…Part 1

I have wondered if certain levels of knowledge and wisdom are only allotted to certain people. Or, if it’s truly just curiosity on the part of some people that drives them to study things more intensely or deeply when it‘s concerning Spiritual health. When I attended church regularly, I remember hearing things like the second coming of Christ and the end of the world being at hand and how when it was time to “testify”, Satan was the object of battle, the stumbling block that tried to block their way to church that Sunday morning or evening if it were Wednesday night prayer meeting.
Attending church was something I never really wanted to do, but my father had it in him that he should become involved in church since he had spent many years as a sailor, doing the things sailors used to be known for doing. Rabble rousing, fighting Marines and soldiers, philandering with women and of course boozing it up all the while. At around age 45, after having being in the navy for 20 years, retiring at age 40 and slowing down he decided he should join church and “get right with the Lord.” This meant my younger brother and I had to go and get right with the Lord even if we didn’t have the urge to get right with the Lord. Thus we were conscripted to church.

After missing many NFL games, I became accustomed to sitting in the church watching Reverend Polite do his Baptist preacher thing, painting verbal pictures about Nebuchadnezzer breaking out into feathers or Shadrach, Meschech and Abednego walking in the flames without burning after being thrown into an inferno of a furnace. Listening intently to Rev. Polite paint drove me to start bringing my bible to church just to see if what he were saying was really in the book or was he embellishing as some Baptist preachers were known to do.

Each and every Sunday I would sit there and wait for Rev. Polite to start verbally painting. He would start by giving a chapter and verse in the bible and right away I would turn to the page and check is facts. And, sure enough what he was preaching would be right there. Certainly, this drove my interest up on this book. It was always on the coffee table, opened to the 23rd Psalm, where my mother kept it, but I never really took the time to read it. Now, Rev. Polite had put me on a mission, little did he know, to no only read this book but also really study it.


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