"SEEK YE FIRST THE KINGDOM"
I
was just in grade school but I remember it as if it were yesterday. We were
driving between Crawfordsville and Indianapolis when mother said she thought
she could eat a breaded tenderloin sandwich. She was recovering from her second
or third operation, out of five, and the doctor was concerned about her
appetite. Dad stopped at a little diner and went inside to get the sandwich.
Even now I remember the details: the sign said "Diner", it looked like an old
railroad dining car and sat near railroad tracks. The sandwich was in a small
brown paper bag and was wrapped in waxed paper. Boy did it smell good! This was
the first time I saw my dad buy food at a restaurant. To this day it is burned
in my memory as a very special occasion even if I didn't eat.
I
remember one very special Christmas. I was in Junior High when an aunt and
uncle said that my present was to go to Indianapolis and pick out any pair of
shoes I wanted. I'll never forget the big department store on the Circle with
the animated Christmas scenes in the windows. I can see the crowds of happy
people with their heavy coats against the cold winter. I will never forget how
proud I was when I went to services the next Sunday wearing my white bucks just
like Pat Boone. You see, this was the first new pair of shoes I had owned that
were not because I needed them. Yes, many of my clothes were hand-me-downs from
other families in our congregation.
I
can remember the first movie I ever saw. It was in the big theater on the Circle.
One of the ladies in the congregation took some young teenagers to see Ben Hur.
I can still see the gilded gold trim in that huge, beautiful room. It was not
that my parents believed that going to the movies was a sin, it was just that
with four boys to feed, clothe and send to school there was not money left over
for things like this. Later dad and mom thought I was old enough to leave at
home, instead of a baby sitter, while they sat with a dying sister in Christ. I
was so proud of the dollar I had in my pocket. I trekked down town to the drug
store, sat at the counter and had a hot dog with a cherry coke. For the first
and only time, until I had my own money, I walked into our hometown theater,
bought my own ticket and enjoyed a movie. It was The 7th Voyage of Sinbad.
I
have fond memories of a vacation we took in Tennessee. In fact it was the only
real vacation our family ever had. Dad rented a cabin at Natural Bridge near
Davy Crockett State Park. There was no plumbing so we carried water to wash dishes
and bathe. There was an outhouse for the other necessity. Cooking was done on
an outdoor grill. We swam in the river, walked on the trail to see the Natural
Bridge and ate watermelon made ice cold in the natural spring. Dad had bought a
country ham, it was the saltiest I can remember eating, and it was the meat for
all three meals each day. It was perfect with the eggs, fried potatoes and corn
bread fixed in a skillet over the fire. Even now those wonderful memories
return when I smell country ham.
Can
you remember the first time you ate at a restaurant? I can and with the details
as fresh as if it were yesterday. When you didn't make much money and you have
four boys going out to eat was not something you did. But David Bobo from
Indianapolis invited our family out to dinner. He and his wife took us to a
formal Chinese restaurant. I was the oldest but my eyes must have been as big
as silver dollars as I looked at the bright colors and oriental decorations.
Bro. Bobo even said we could order anything we wanted! David has now passed on
but if he only knew that to this day when I eat Cashew Chicken I remember him
and how special that evening was me.
And
finally I remember living in a house that was too small for a family of
six.
All four of us boys slept in bunk beds in the same room. I even
remember the
mold that would grow on your coats that were kept in the front closet.
It was a poorly constructed house and not up to the standards of most
of the
others in town. It wasn't really our house, it was owned by the people
dad
worked for. He and mom never owned their own house until after I had
left home
and a member of the church where they lived loaned them the down
payment. But I
never heard my dad complain. He never compared what we had with the
other
members of our congregation. He never felt sorry for himself nor did he
believe
that life had mistreated his family. In fact, while everyone said he
was one of
the best at what he did he never once asked for a raise. If I heard dad
say it
once I heard it a thousand times, "the Lord will provide." He believed
this
with all his heart and the Lord never let him down. So his family
didn't
suffer. We may not have had all the material things that others had but
we
always had a roof over our heads, warm clothes to wear and good food to
eat.
Our home was filled with faith, love and happiness. What more could any
Christian ask for?
Why
didn't my dad get a better paying job? His job was the only thing he ever
wanted to do. He considered himself fortunate that someone would pay him to do
what he would happily have done for free. He had the best, most rewarding job
in the world, he was a gospel preacher!
To
be continued.
P.S. During my research for our on-going series reading
the debate over "located preachers" has rekindled many memories. Not only
memories of being a preachers kid but also of the Godly men I have been blessed
to know, men whose sacrifices brought the lost to Jesus. Bear with me as I take
a personal look at preachers and preaching. Since some of you have asked for
more time to study our first lesson on "The End Of Restoration" this will be a
good time to put on paper some of my heart felt emotions.