Seeking God Across the Street

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By Theresa Parker Pierce

            When I was three years old, my family moved to a house across the street from a church. I was too little to notice the building but the playground caught my eye. I spent the rest of my childhood appreciating the swings and sliding board. Looking back now, I realize that no one ever told me I was not wanted. Over the years, I made friends with the neighbor children and we played kickball on the open field beside the sanctuary.

            I was an unchurched child. I would grow up to be a first generation Christian. It never occurred to me that I was any different than any other child. Cars came and went to the building and while no one ever invited me to join them, the people were always kind.  

            When I turned five, my mother wanted me to attend kindergarten. There was no public preschool. It was convenient enough that the program was across the street and I could go alone. For me, this was the best thing ever. My teacher was amazing! On a sidenote, she called me “my girl” and became friends with my mother. I visited in her home as an adult and kept up with her until her death at the age of 90. Mrs. Mary, as she asked me to call her had a name that was hard to pronounce, Noftsger. I fell so in love with my teacher, that she marked my chosen profession. I retired with 35 years in education. She would say of my teaching, “I am so proud of my girl.”

            Attending church kindergarten, opened a door for me. I asked my momma if I could attend Sunday School. She agreed and I was delighted. Sunday School included more of the lessons I had learned at church kindergarten. We sang, heard Bible stories and talked. Other children asked questions and the teacher answered them. I did not talk. I did not know what to say. I just took it all in.

Sunday School started in a large room. A basket was passed and I placed a small offering in it. A pianist played hymns and songs. I sang at the top of my lungs. The chairs were easy to rock back and forth in. The superintendent took attendance. We were dismissed to small classes, segregated by boys and girls. It was the 1960’s. Then I walked home.

One thing I noticed was a baby nursery. It did not occur to me at the time, but now I know that children younger than me obviously went to church before age five. I could not change the knowledge that my life was different. I was just happy to be there. I loved the colorful posters of Jesus and the children. I loved the teachers. I wanted a string of Sunday School pins for perfect attendance but I knew that was unattainable and accepted it.

Vacation Bible School was even better than Sunday School. I could attend for a week in the summer. They had cookies that fit nicely on my finger. We drank red koolaide in tiny cups with refills. VBS was Sunday School amped up! We took turns holding the flags and Bible for pledges. We visited an orphanage and for once, I saw children who had less than me. It was a game changer. My Sunday School teacher grew up there. I had hope for my future. I wanted to be just like her.

Just when I thought things could not get better, I was invited to join the Children’s Choir.

I think this is when things began to change from wonderful to struggles. I was used to singing from the bottom of my heart but this was serious business. It felt like school. The choir director said, “Someone is off key.” I just knew it was me and began to fake singing. I wish now I had not but I also forgive my younger self. I understand.

            I was growing older and I knew how to survive in my home. But at church and school, I became aware of the world of nice clothes. I did not fit in. I looked nice. I was clean. My clothes were pressed. My mother made them with care but the world of brands cast a long shadow over the teen years of church.  

A beautiful Sunday School teacher drew me in. Just when I began to be disillusioned with church, Mrs. Powers stepped up to teach the Junior High class. It was the first time the boys and girls were mixed. I did not talk or ask questions but I knew she loved us and that was enough. My best friend and I were a dynamic duo. We sat together. It was enough. Our teacher loved us so much, she moved up with our group every year until we graduated high school.

I was not always invited to the parties of the other girls and boys. I was not cool. I joined the Youth Group. I saw hypocrisy. I heard kids making fun. I began to wonder how church kids were different from school kids. But fortunately, there were enough mentors, adult and teens that gave me hope. I watched my best friend’s family attend church, have devotions and do things differently. I wanted that kind of life. Not everyone was perfect. I heard stories. I began to understand how church attendees struggled like everyone else.

            My inner voice kept me going to church and I am so glad that I did. At the age of twelve, I joined the church. My parents attended my baptism and started going to church. I made life- long friends at what I came to call, “my home church.” I grew up to be a church member, nursery worker and VBS teacher. I chose a better life for my children and grandchildren. I still go back to visit. I tell everyone there the difference they made in my life. I thank God that my childhood home was within walking distance of a church. Never underestimate a small child who is seeking God.

            I grew up to raise my family in church all because I was mentored. I remembered and sang the same songs I learned as a child. I have thanked my home church many times. My life was changed. I read somewhere how one Godly man can change the trajectory of generations. A Godly mother can do the same. I thank God every day for those who pointed me in the right direction.

Dear Lord,

            When I meet young and old, help me to remember that those who enter our church may not bring money or skills. Help me remember to not see them as a number. Help me to look at that child as a future parent. Please help me to mentor and encourage others who don’t look or act like me. Help me, please to protect them from human obstacles to their future as a believer. Most importantly, Lord, help me see everyone through Your eyes. Amen

Encouragement: Please consider inviting people to your church, especially children. They can be game changers for their future family. They can discover God’s peace and joy. Going to church gave me peace in my heart. The church showed me a different way of celebrating Christmas and Easter. I learned it was more than Santa and egg hunts. I found joy in singing, listening to testimonies and turning my life over to Christ. I encourage you to invest or continue investing in children. You can point the way for young person and change not only their life but their children and children’s children. I am living proof. Ray Boltz sang a song called, “Thank you for giving to the Lord, I have a life that was changed.” Someone did it for you, will you sew into God’s kingdom to change your neighbor, city and world?

  1. Do you invite people to church so you can earn a prize?
  2. When someone attends your church, do you size them up by what they wear or if their parents will donate to the church?
  3. Do you allow people to attend church to grow or only look at how they can contribute to the volunteer staff?
  4. Are you willing to mentor children with an open heart, giving them a ride to church and or including them in your programs?

The Youth Leader

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By Ann Farabee

My early experiences with a worship service took place when I was 13. It consisted of passing notes back and forth between my friends and boys that I liked. There was an offering envelope holder on the back of each pew and that envelope was perfect for writing notes to friends. Talking or whispering was not permitted.

At some point during my teen years, my friends and I began slipping down to the altar during what was referred to as the altar call. That was when I began to find less need for passing notes and a newfound need for bowing at the altar in prayer, surrounded by my peers in our youth group. Our youth group never went to the altar alone. We went together and our youth leaders went with us.

That group became my friend group. We soon began going out to eat on Sunday nights after church. I barely noticed at the time that my mother was one of the parents driving us there, and she was making friends, too.

Yes, these memories included food for our bodies, but it was much more than that. It was the beginning of my spiritual development that I would cling to throughout my life.

Our youth group met at church, met in homes, went bowling, played putt-putt, prayed together and stayed together. We shared our problems. We shared our testimonies. We were a group — that became a family — as a result of the sacrifice of time of a leader.

That leader made sure we would break bread and be fed during our teen years.

One evening during youth when we were praying as a group, I remember someone lifting a hand toward heaven in praise. I opened my eyes to see whose hand that was, and it was mine.

I never looked back.

There was spiritual power in that sacrifice of praise from my heart that day.

I recognized that power as the power of the Holy Spirit working in my life.

Never ever underestimate the power of a youth group. I learned the value of having friends who valued what I valued.

I learned about salvation through Jesus Christ. I learned about a relationship with Jesus Christ.

I learned to be friends with others who believed as I did — that Jesus died on the cross for us — and rose again — as a sacrifice for our sins — so that we could live eternally in heaven with Him.

Together, we also learned to worship. Worship is defined as praising, admiring and expressing reverence for God, both privately and publicly. Worship refers to an overall lifestyle of serving and glorifying God and reflecting His glory. The Greek word for worship means to encounter God with praise. An encounter with God is exactly what we needed then — and what we still need today.

Jesus placed a desire to worship in our hearts.

Each week, we need to break bread and be fed.

Still today, what I feel on the inside spills out of my heart and out of my mouth. However, I may feel a little guilty about the wasted offering envelopes.

Thank you to my youth leaders. Your sacrifice of time changed my life.

Life from Death

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By Ashlie Miller

“Our Lord has written the promise of the resurrection not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.” – Martin Luther.

I have a growing love of botanicals – their colors and fragrances, the intrinsic detail of each plant, each petal. It is astounding! Yet, I have mixed feelings about receiving plants as gifts. Upon receiving them, my eyes gleam with hope, but then, reality sinks in. I have to feed, water, and protect this living green thing. I have managed to keep five children fed several times a day, in clothing that mostly fits, and put to rest as needed, but I make no such promises with plants. Did I neglect to water you? Did I overcompensate by drowning you? What are these spotty things on your leaves? It looks like you have left us, so do I toss you or hold out false hope?

I found an amaryllis bulb from two Christmases ago that I had tossed into the garage, forgetting what it once held. Upon visiting my stepdad this past Christmas, I saw that the bulb given to him the previous year was flourishing. I asked him, “How did you manage that?” and wondered if there would be hope for my poor, neglected bulb. Of course, I forgot to follow up when I returned home. A month passed before I found it again, but when I did, I finally planted it in a pot with dirt, showering it with water. When I say “planted,” I mean I stuck it in dirt, not even fresh dirt  – something from a bag I found hidden in the shed. Sigh, even my efforts seemed half-hearted. However, in recent weeks, I beam with delight, seeing something green sprouting and flourishing – currently 10-12 inches of greenery. It feels like a resurrection!

I am sure many readers have green thumbs or at least enough dirt under their nails to prove they know what they are doing. Does it astound you when a plant comes back from what seems to be the perils of death? Maybe you rescue plants from the clearance shelf or even the dumpster. You may have even purchased those resurrection plants (Rose of Jericho) through Amazon to witness such a phenomenon. I think deep inside us, we love the idea of life coming from seeming death. What a lovely reminder during the Easter season – the Resurrection season! Not only was Christ resurrected from actual death, but the same power that raised Him can also transform those of us dead in Christ, miserable in the existence and bondage of sin. The same power will give Christians a true, bodily resurrection, not merely a spiritual resurrection.

Romans 1:16 – which by now the avid reader knows is a favorite verse of mine – points to nature’s general revelation of God’s attributes. That knowledge compels us to learn the special revelation of ideas like redemption in the truth of God’s Word. Through general revelation in nature, these signs of resurrection in what is seemingly dead – a resting plant bulb – are a pale comparison to He who was truly dead and fully resurrected. But it is something to learn from and to point us to God’s Word.

As you nurture diseased or seemingly lifeless plants to health this spring season, may your heart and attention be directed to the resurrection that has occurred in Christ and that which will happen for believers in Christ. What an opportunity to worship as we work, grow, and cultivate!

Ashlie Miller and her husband Chad do a lot of weeding, nurturing, and pruning….but mostly on their 5 children in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

God as Our Father

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            Let’s face it, there are not many families like The Brady Bunch or Leave it to Beaver. There are no families with the perfect moms and dads and all the kids who never do anything wrong. We like to watch those families and dream. The reality is that no one has a perfect family.

            How can any perfect family exist when we have fallen from grace? That being said, many of us were lucky to grow up in good families where many good memories were created. As a public school teacher, I know that many students grew up in less than ideal conditions. Many families were fractured, leaving students with emotional scars and hearts wishing for the fantasy families that we find on TV.

            Given that no family is perfect, we all have memories we wish we could erase and some that are very special treasures. Most of our parents and grandparents tell stories of their childhood that we have heard numerous times. Did you hear about walking to school uphill both ways? What precious memories!

            The trouble with the bad memories is that they impact our view of the Heavenly Father. God is a wonderful and good Father. The trouble comes with how we imagine or perceive that relationship when our only comparison comes with our earthly fathers. Even the best father on earth is flawed and can give us a blurry vision of God our Father.

            As a teacher, I knew some of my students had never met their father. That could make them feel like God is absent, distant, and doesn’t care about them. Some of my students had parents that were divorced. That could make them feel like God has other priorities and doesn’t really have time for them. Some of my students experienced some kind of abuse from their fathers. That could give them an image of an abusive God who wants to belittle and hurt them.

            There are many good qualities in my life that come from my father. The quality I admire the most is his work ethic. My Dad always worked with the highest integrity and I tried to live my work life by those same high standards. I always thought my Dad dressed sharply. I always liked wearing nice clothes with a great tie. These are just two of the qualities that I appreciate about my father.

            How do we have a relationship with God our Heavenly Father? We can’t see Him, although we can talk with Him. Many people choose not to talk with Him, but I think life is much better when we do. Many believe that God is too busy with world events to be interested in our lives. Nothing can be further from the truth. Because God is omnipresent and unrestricted by time, He can be intimately involved with each of us all at the same time.

            The Bible is God’s love letter to us, filled with many promises about our present and future. He wants us to know that He is planning our future here on earth and what He has planned for those who believe in Jesus when we arrive in heaven. There are many examples of how God interacts with people and how deeply He cares for each one of us.

            The Bible tells us over and over again that God loves us. In fact, once He discovered that our relationship was broken with Him because of sin, He made a plan for how to fix the problem. He sent His Son Jesus to die on a cross to pay the price for our sin and failures. The Good News we celebrate on Easter is that Jesus did not stay dead but He has risen and become victorious over death and sin. By accepting Jesus as our Savior, we can have a relationship with God our Father. It’s a free gift! All your sins and failures wiped away! No more guilt or shame. Then we can experience God’s immeasurable love.

            I want to encourage you to make the very important decision to accept Jesus as your Savior so you can be assured of your place in heaven. You can experience the love and acceptance of God deep in your heart. His perfect peace can wash over you and free you from worry and anxiety. You can know a joy residing in you that cannot be shaken by the crazy things that are going on in our world today. Make this Easter the best yet by accepting Jesus and getting to know God as your Heavenly Father.

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

Renewal

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By Roger Barbee

March 19th was the first day of spring and the March equinox, which occurred at 5:37 A.M EDT, is marked. I noted the sun’s position over our house roof as I rode the stationary bike which I had recently moved from the screen porch to the front, on a corner of the driveway. The changing of the bike is a seasonal one that places it on the porch for the winter cold but outside for all the other days. Thus, each March when I begin riding in the front of our yard, I anticipate a renewal with neighbors and other walkers.

The spring equinox occurs when the earth tilts so that the sun crosses the equator, and the northern hemisphere shifts closer to the sun, and we begin to experience spring followed by summer.  This day of equal light and dark is almost magical, and I thought of the Greek myth of  Persephone, and her journey from the underworld that brought the earth its renewal each spring.

The spring renewal under the forty pine trees in our front yard is spectacular, and for my new rides here, the life of rebirth is awe inspiring. I marvel watching all the life under our pines—the male birds staking territory like settlers on the prairie, the emergence of fresh leaves on every plant like splashes of paint, and the innumerable green shoots bursting forth like rockets escaping gravity. But I am most eager to re-acquaint myself with neighbors who I have not had a meaningful conversation with since last fall.

            Over the past two weeks, I have shared in good renewal chats with Ethel; Martha, Rich and their poodle-doodle Buddy; and exchanged a “Good morning” with others. Some neighbors, like Ken, do not count because he had often visited with me on the screen porch—even in the coldest mornings.  But one pair I have not renewed with is Max and her standard, cream-colored Pomeranian Puccini, nicknamed Puci. He generously carried the nickname as well as his formal one.

            Max and Puci live near the end of our dead-end street, and for the three and a half years I have ridden the stationary bike in our front yard, I have always known they were coming up our road because I would hear him barking at each vehicle as it passed. His short, sharp bark at a passing vehicle was a signal for me to begin watching for them on the ox-bend of our road. Sure enough,  I would soon see him walking with his mistress along the edge of the road. He would stop and inspect odors only he or other dogs could detect, study other objects of interest, and then royally continue on to the intersection near our house that marked his turn-around. When Max saw me riding the stationary , she would say, “Puci, let’s say hello to Roger,” before walking over to chat. He would greet me with one of his barks, allow me to touch him if he were in the mood, and after being polite long enough so as not to embarrass his mistress, he would turn to face the direction of their home. It was his announcement that they had given me enough of their morning, and it was time to go. Then off to home, his sharp barks and noble carriage marking his journey to whatever awaited him at home.

            The spring equinox announces change. The scene that I rode in last fall is still like that where I  ride now: The forty pine trees, the road, my shop building, the vast sky, all of it is the same as last fall. Yet, over the winter months, change did occur and, while some of it is expected, some of it, like death, came unannounced, bringing its companion grief. Then the sadness.

            Puccini, the grand little fellow, died from cancer. No longer will his short, sharp bark herald his coming like the whistle of an upstream steamboat. No longer will his well-groomed, cream form move gracefully along the long bend of our road. No longer will he wait patiently and regally as two humans chat away precious minutes of his morning walk. During the cold of winter he, as King David wrote, “Went the way of all living things.”

 Puccini, the cream-colored, standard Pomeranian, was just a dog, but what a fine dog he was.  And because we embrace that, we will be renewed when we celebrate an early-morning bark signaling that a dog comes round the bend of Isle of Pines Road.

Rain Collides with Racing

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By David Freeze

We have been fortunate over the years with rain. I remember lots of forecasts for big rain that fizzled out. I remember only one that had worse conditions that what happened at the Wipe Out Colorectal Cancer 5K this past Saturday. That popular race benefited the fire department and was held at the J.F. Hurley YMCA. The finish was on the track behind the Y and all finishers had to run through 6-8 inches of standing water near the finish.

On Saturday, May 9, we heard the forecast all week calling for 95-100% chances of rain. Prayers for a better day didn’t work out this time. The 5K start was set near the dugouts at the Catawba softball field, with a quick run out that sidewalk over the bridge and a hard right on the greenway headed for the Crescent.

In an area where water often stands, recent rains made the situation worse. Water was already across the sidewalk before the early Saturday rains. Six inches of standing water again, and this would have been at the start of the race, not a good thing for shoes. We moved the start up on Forestdale Street, just outside the greenway entrance. A quickly painted S in the middle of the road made a brand new start line.

We didn’t expect a whole lot of the 172 registered runners to show up as the steady rain continued to fall. Volunteers to man the course intersections were missing too, another victim of the rain. But quick work by a shorthanded cone crew marked the course through the Crescent development and we were ready for a race.

Cars started to arrive and kept coming. All with wipers and lights on. Most of the runners and walkers got out seriously dressed for the rain. Race organizers from Rowan Diagnostic Clinic gave out free ponchos to all who wanted one. Headgear was varied and interesting as the rain got harder.

The finish line had to be shortened as standing water began to rise near the softball field. Participants were alerted at the last minute to drive to 1111 Forestdale, the new start. Suddenly the street was packed with cars as runners and walkers hustled to begin the race.

The race began on time at 9 a.m., just as the rain became a steady downpour. They ran and walked the greenway and toured the Crescent before heading back toward Catawba. In the meantime, SRR’s finish line volunteers had established a scaled down finish area with cones and a clock, which then quickly drowned out. The first runners back had to slow down to keep from running into the water.

I’ve seen few races with such a large number of the biggest smiles I have ever seen at a finish line. Finish line volunteers greeted the participants with more smiles, knowing that this was an unusual race, not just for the rain but for its purpose. It’s likely a race that few will forget, and Rowan Diagnostic Clinic organizers are already looking toward next year.

Race director Lauren Britt said, “The CheckIt4Andretti Foundation helped provide the connections and the funding to deliver colonoscopies to low-income, high-risk patients that are either uninsured or too young for their insurance to cover the procedure. Nancy Andretti is the founder of the foundation, and she created the movement after her husband, John Andretti (who is Mario Andretti’s nephew and a former NASCAR driver for Richard Petty), passed away from colon cancer at the age of 56. Nancy got in contact with our Digestive Health Associates office and our two GI doctors agreed to partner with the foundation to provide those colonoscopies for people in Rowan County. As of right now, we’ve raised just over $8,000 to donate to their foundation but we are expecting more donations to continue to come in, specifically from some of our doctors here.” Nancy, son Jarrett and daughters, Olivia and Amelia, all completed the race.

Britt continued, “One of RDC’s owners, Dr. Sean Malone, was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer in 2022 and is still battling it so this race and fundraiser was also to honor him and to get awareness out about early detection.” Contact Britt at lbritt@rowandiagnostic.com

For information on other upcoming events, see www.salisburyrowanrunners.org.

Source of Life

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By Ed Traut

John 7:38 Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”

  • Streams… not a small source or a one time, but a continual flow will come from inside as God moves.
  • When we are in Him not only do we receive, but we also become a source.
  • We believe in Him and follow after Him and we become connected and we become a receiver and a giver of water that brings life. 

Prayer:  Lord I do want to be a source and to drink myself of Your living water.  I believe in You with all my heart and know who You are – the Son of God and wonderful Savior. Help me to share today this wonderful living water with others. Amen.


Ed Traut
Prophetic Life

Home

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By Lynna Clark

For this world is not our permanent home.

“We are looking forward to a home yet to come. Therefore…

Let us offer through Jesus a continual sacrifice of praise to God;”

-Hebrews 13:14,15

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