Country Church

"We have taught them upon their hills" (Alma 26:29). When I was eight years old our family, now grown to six, moved to the country into a small four room house with a lean-to kitchen. It stood at the bottom of  tree covered hill. The woods behind the house would become my playground, my refuge, and my sacred space. Our house had no running water or a bathroom. My dad later expanded our kitchen adding a sink and cold running water. By some standards we were considered poor, but so were many of our friends, neighbors, and family. However, we always had plenty to eat, clean clothes, and our home was always neat. Both of my parents worked very hard. I was the oldest of four children much younger than me so I became designated leader and caretaker. We attended an old four room brick school, that had a fifth classroom tucked away in the basement. It was the same school my mother attended when she was a child. There were two churches nearby across the road from each other. One was a Methodist Church with some classrooms added on, The other was a one room Presbyterian Church. They had Sunday School in the four corners of the church building. I attended the Methodist Church briefly, Bible school in the summer at both churches, but eventually chose the Presbyterian Church to attend. I knew the kids there better, and our neighbor who went there took us in his old black car. The car was immaculate inside and out. Our parents gave us strict instructions to keep it that way. When all four of us children started going to Church my father took us, but he and my mother never did come except for special occasions. My father had joined the Church of Christ in his late teens and my mother belonged to a Pentecostal Church founded by her uncle. However, neither of them attended their respective churches. From that time on up into my teen years I loved going to Church. I enjoyed reading the Bible for myself and singing the stirring songs "Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus" and "Onward Christian Soldiers" .That is what I wanted to be a "soldier for Christ". In those days we had a Bible class in school one day a week. Each student had a notebook to paste pictures, scripture verses, and songs in. I learned all the books of the Old Testament and received a bookmark. We sang songs and the one I remembered best was "This is my Father's World". For me God did speak to me everywhere in all his beautiful creations. As I said I don't remember a time when I did not believe in God. However, one fine autumn day I walked into the woods and looked up at the red, orange and golden canopy of leaves. Then and there I knew and accepted Jesus as my Savior. I was thirteen years old. I was not baptized, nor did I join the Church until three years later. At the time I walked up to the front of the Church during a revival to signify my public profession of faith. At the age of 16 in the spring I knelt before the congregation and water was sprinkled on my head. I was baptized and accepted into the Presbyterian Church. My parents were there and I was very happy. I was no perfect child, nor was I a perfect teenager. Yet by God's grace I did not stray too far afield. In my teen years I sometimes felt that God might be calling me into the ministry. I had wanted to be a teacher, yet I was receiving much encouragement from my small Presbyterian Church congregation to truly be a "soldier for Christ." It was only a small country church, but it had raised me in the Christian faith.