10 days ago a group of us from Mississippi parted from the Jackson airport and headed to Lima. The majority went on for a few days of tourism in the mountains. I stayed behind to do missions. I was invited to be a "keynote speaker," as they put it to me, for the first annual cross-cultural missions conference. Though I did not see the fruit from it, I was told a dozen men and women responded to the invitation to be career missionaries. I can only shout praises to King Jesus over that. I saw a dream fulfilled in their decision and the burgeoning missions agency known as Peru to the Nations. It filled my heart with joy.
A week ago the rest of the Mississippi group arrived. It was the second trip for these men. Who are they? They are the Mississippi Singing Churchmen. These men and I, plus three ladies, converged on Lima and proceeded to present concerts of praise throughout the city. Each day was better than the day before. We sang before the wealthy; we sang before the very poor. We sang before the unknown and we sang before the renowned personalities in the city. And God gave a harvest. God showed himself powerful and answered prayer beyond our dreams.
When we lost permission to sing in one place, God opened other venues for us. We wanted to sing before Congress in their daily session. It did not happen. But we did get to sing in front of the congressional palace. Broadcast live across the nation. To thousands, not hundreds. Our God does far more than we ask or think.
Each day the harvest seemed to be better than the day before. We know of at least 60 who prayed to receive Christ; the Lord knows how many truly did. But we were able to be an influence in their lives, at least.
The trip has ended--for the Singing Churchmen, that is. I am still here; my church, the 38th Family, arrives tomorrow night. And the mission continues. And more men and women will be born into the family of God. And God receives all the glory.
Showing posts with label Mississippi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mississippi. Show all posts
Friday, September 30, 2011
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Trying to Remember What I Forgot
Today I took a drive in a part of the country I have not seen for decades. When I was a boy my grandfather would drive me up and down those roads. Sometimes it would be a trip to "the big city." Other times it would be a drive to visit a church member (he was a pastor), or a cousin. Sometimes it would be his route to one of the few small towns in this part of rural Mississippi. He had one town for shoes, one for farm supplies, and another for the basic supplies. You only went to town when it was needed. You only went on a Saturday, except for emergencies. You NEVER went on Sundays, except to go to church if church was in town.
The back roads held so many forgotten, buried, but great memories. There were the stores we would sometimes visit. They always held promise of a 6 ounce Coke and some kind of candy bar. Never far away was the RC Cola and the Moon Pie if we wanted a change from the ever popular Coke.
One crossroad brought back the memories of catching my first bass on an artificial topwater lure. It weighed all of 3 pounds, but what a memory! I was a young teen becoming the Bass Master world champion in that moment. I was so pumped I even bought a membership with Bass Masters so I could have the patch. After all, I had now joined the ranks of great fishermen everywhere.
One bridge crossed a creek where I watched Grandaddy baptize those brave souls who had given their hearts to the Lord in the most recent summer revival. That creek sure was bigger when I was a boy. I can't imagine how it shrank.
The church was called Riverside Baptist, though I have no clue as to why. The river was miles away. It must be from that old Spiritual that said, "Gonna lay down my burdens, down by the riverside, down by the riverside, down by the riverside..." It was an old wooden building, with straight (so they seemed at the time) wood pews, and a series of windows on both sides of the building. Those windows were always open in the spring and summer. There was no air conditioning. There were no electric fans. There were what we called funeral fans--a large, shaped piece of cardboard with a soothing image and an advertisment for local funeral services.
The only water we ever saw in those hot summer mornings and evenings was the glass of ice water sitting on the pulpit, condensation dripping off the cold glass. As my grandfather warmed up in his passionate preaching style, the air grew hotter and the water more tempting. We cringed whenever temptation and coveting entered his message, because there we sat, coveting that cold glass of water. It was always worse whenever he would pause and lift the glass to his lips. The fans would begin to fan at a frenetic pace. A hummingbird would have been proud of the fanning of many of us.
Riverside Baptist holds two strong memories for me, maybe three. I remember my Uncle Simp's prayer for rain (he was really a cousin, but they told us we had to call him Uncle Simp) during a drought. I have not heard many pray like him, before or since. And yes, it rained a few days later. I think Uncle Simp was the only one who brought an umbrella to that prayer meeting.
And I remember Uncle Simp's message on Elijah being fed by the ravens. I was only 9, maybe 10; but the image painted in his word pictures still sits in my mind to this day. There are days when Uncle Simp's words bolster my faith and let me strengthen myself in the Lord.
And then there was the outhouse. I remember the outhouse. I hated that thing. I hated it more for the promise of red wasps than for the other unpleasantries that come with non-plumbed outdoor bathrooms. And no, we did not have corn cobs to use in the outhouse.
This was just the first half of the more-than-one-hour-long ride. But it stirred so many old memories. So many things I wanted to remember peeked over the distant hills in my mind.
One day I will take that same journey again. This time it will be the spiritual roads with their markers that God has impressed on my heart. It will be a good journey, because there are those times that we need to try to remember some things that we have forgotten.
The back roads held so many forgotten, buried, but great memories. There were the stores we would sometimes visit. They always held promise of a 6 ounce Coke and some kind of candy bar. Never far away was the RC Cola and the Moon Pie if we wanted a change from the ever popular Coke.
One crossroad brought back the memories of catching my first bass on an artificial topwater lure. It weighed all of 3 pounds, but what a memory! I was a young teen becoming the Bass Master world champion in that moment. I was so pumped I even bought a membership with Bass Masters so I could have the patch. After all, I had now joined the ranks of great fishermen everywhere.
One bridge crossed a creek where I watched Grandaddy baptize those brave souls who had given their hearts to the Lord in the most recent summer revival. That creek sure was bigger when I was a boy. I can't imagine how it shrank.
The church was called Riverside Baptist, though I have no clue as to why. The river was miles away. It must be from that old Spiritual that said, "Gonna lay down my burdens, down by the riverside, down by the riverside, down by the riverside..." It was an old wooden building, with straight (so they seemed at the time) wood pews, and a series of windows on both sides of the building. Those windows were always open in the spring and summer. There was no air conditioning. There were no electric fans. There were what we called funeral fans--a large, shaped piece of cardboard with a soothing image and an advertisment for local funeral services.
The only water we ever saw in those hot summer mornings and evenings was the glass of ice water sitting on the pulpit, condensation dripping off the cold glass. As my grandfather warmed up in his passionate preaching style, the air grew hotter and the water more tempting. We cringed whenever temptation and coveting entered his message, because there we sat, coveting that cold glass of water. It was always worse whenever he would pause and lift the glass to his lips. The fans would begin to fan at a frenetic pace. A hummingbird would have been proud of the fanning of many of us.
Riverside Baptist holds two strong memories for me, maybe three. I remember my Uncle Simp's prayer for rain (he was really a cousin, but they told us we had to call him Uncle Simp) during a drought. I have not heard many pray like him, before or since. And yes, it rained a few days later. I think Uncle Simp was the only one who brought an umbrella to that prayer meeting.
And I remember Uncle Simp's message on Elijah being fed by the ravens. I was only 9, maybe 10; but the image painted in his word pictures still sits in my mind to this day. There are days when Uncle Simp's words bolster my faith and let me strengthen myself in the Lord.
And then there was the outhouse. I remember the outhouse. I hated that thing. I hated it more for the promise of red wasps than for the other unpleasantries that come with non-plumbed outdoor bathrooms. And no, we did not have corn cobs to use in the outhouse.
This was just the first half of the more-than-one-hour-long ride. But it stirred so many old memories. So many things I wanted to remember peeked over the distant hills in my mind.
One day I will take that same journey again. This time it will be the spiritual roads with their markers that God has impressed on my heart. It will be a good journey, because there are those times that we need to try to remember some things that we have forgotten.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
It's Still the Bible Belt
Mississippi. The butt of so many bad stories. The disdain of many as an undesirable place. Well, we're number one! We are the most religious place in America. You may laugh at our overweight populous. You may snicker about the rednecks that live there. You may overlook them for so many things. But you will find that we are the buckle of the Bible belt. You will find more people willing to pray for you there. More will invite you to church there. More will stand up for the Lord there.
So, come on down and enjoy a plate of fried catfish and fried dillpickles; and then come on to church with us...
So, come on down and enjoy a plate of fried catfish and fried dillpickles; and then come on to church with us...
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