Sunday Mornings With Aunt Edna

Sunday Mornings With Aunt Edna

by Charly Morgan

Transcribed from the original recording; may contain errors.

That song, Joanne, “Lead Me On,” I thought, well, that’s what this whole morning, this talk, is about, is how He has led me on. It’s just precious, isn’t it? It’s precious. Thank you for that. “Because you have so little faith,” replied Jesus, “I assure you that if you have as much faith as a grain of mustard seed, you can say to that mountain, ‘Up you get and move over there,’ and it will move. You will find nothing is impossible.”

A growing edge for me, as I learned to live in the kingdom, has been and continues to be learning, or perhaps I should say living out what I have learned, about being versus doing. And most of my upbringing, and certainly most of the messages that I have gotten from school and work, and, well, the world in general, has been, what you do is what you’re worth. Your worth is what you do. And for that matter, that’s the message that I think I experienced in my church life; it has not been that different. And it’s really ingrained in my psyche, you know. So I have been a doer, and I have been an accomplisher, and I have been an achiever.

And one of those of whom it was said, you know, if you want something done, ask a busy person to do it, and Charlie will do it. Because that’s where I was getting a lot of my sense of self-worth, from the accomplishments, and the achievements, and the doing. And it’s been a long and a difficult journey for me, and it continues to be, to learn to accept myself as a person of worth, a beloved and worthwhile child of God, not for anything that I’ve done, or anything that I could do, but for what Jesus Christ has already done, and continues to do for me, and in me. And I haven’t learned, or I haven’t lived out as much as I have learned. But I am on the way, and I am becoming, and I am practicing kingdom living, and this particular part of it. And of course, more. But this is the growing edge for me. And one of the pointed lessons that I have had in this respect came from an aunt of mine, and we’re talking about ages. Aunt Edna and I have become very close in the last few years. She’s 102 now. The 11th of September, she’ll be 103. And only late this spring did she move out of her apartment into a nursing home.

And until that time, she had maintained her own apartment and had done for herself. And as I said, we’ve become really close the last few years. She lives in Princeton, where I live. And we attend the same church. Well, several years ago, when my last daughter left our county, on the last Sunday that she was in church with me, she leaned over. We always sat up in the balcony. And she said, “Mother, I want you to do something for me.” And I said, “What?” She said, “From now on, I want you to go downstairs and sit by Aunt Edna on Sunday morning.”

And I thought, well, you know, I said, “Well, we’ve always sat in the balcony.” And she said, “Yeah, but…” And I always sat in a certain pew so that if she got to come, you know, she would know where I was. She was a paramedic at the time. And a lot of Sundays, she didn’t get to come to church. And I just always sat in that pew. And then if she came, she knew where I was. And I said, “You know, I’ve sat in church alone lots of times.” And it had long since ceased to bother me, although there was a time when it did. And she said, “But I just… I want you to do that. I want you to do it for me. I’ll just feel better if, you know, when I think of you on Sunday morning, if I just see you sitting downstairs with Aunt Edna. And, you know, I just…” So I agreed to do that. And, of course, it was the best thing in the world that I could have done. And it was wonderful, wonderful to begin to share worship with my Aunt Edna. And I think it was the year she was 95 that she fell and broke her hip. Or she broke her hip and fell. One.

We’re not sure which. But from the hospital, she had to go to a nursing home for therapy, you know, to learn to walk again, in an adjoining town. And it was about 14, 15 miles from Princeton. And so, on Sunday morning, I would get ready for church, but instead of going to Sunday school a little bit earlier in that, I’d drive over to Dawson Springs and visit with Aunt Edna in the nursing home. And then I’d leave and come back to Princeton and go to church. And we really enjoyed that. And until that time, she had attended both Sunday school and church every Sunday morning, would ride the bus, the church bus. So when she first came home from the nursing home, she couldn’t get out at all. And I said, but I could sense her loneliness. So I said, “Okay, on Sunday mornings, I’ll just continue what I’ve done while you’re in the nursing home. I’ll get ready and come down to your house, and our church broadcasts our Sunday school on TV on the local access channel.” And I said, “We’ll watch Sunday school from our church together, and then I’ll go on to church.” Well, she thought that was a pretty good idea. So we would do that. And it was good.

And I always had to be sure that I learned the lesson, because when the lesson was over, I could be sure she would have a pertinent question or discussion that she wanted us to enter into. And I had to be sure I studied so I wouldn’t get caught short, because she had always studied hers. But anyway, we looked forward to that a lot. Well, pretty soon she said, “I think I might be able to…” Well, at first, though, she would say… She got to where she’d say, “Well, just come a little bit early and we’ll have a cup of coffee before we watch Sunday school.” Okay. So then she got to the place where she said, “I think I could make it to church.” But she couldn’t get up on the church bus. And I said, “Well, okay. I’ll call you on Saturday if you think you can go to church on Sunday. I’ll come down, and I’ll go to church, Sunday school first. And then I’ll come down and pick you up and we’ll go to church together. And if you don’t feel like going to church, we’ll do our usual routine: coffee and Sunday school on TV, and then I’ll go to church.” And on Saturday, as I said, I’d call her and we’d make our plans.

And I had to laugh, because right away it got to where I had to call her on Saturday. She said, “Well, I’m not sure if I’ll feel like it or not. Why don’t you come on anyway?” And by then, coffee had escalated into breakfast at her kitchen table. And “You just come on anyway.” So, you know, that became our routine, and I was going then at 9:30. And we were eating at her kitchen table every Sunday morning and visiting. And, you know, sometimes it would be coffee and a roll, but sometimes it would be bacon and eggs, and I learned to let her do that, and to enjoy her doing that was very precious. And we would do our visiting at the kitchen table because we didn’t talk during Sunday school on TV. We listened. We listened, and we had our Sunday school book and our Bible open with us too. And so, I, you know, I picked up that she didn’t want to let those Sunday mornings go, together, and I didn’t either. I didn’t either. It was just a rare privilege that was given to me. And even though there were and still are those in my church whose opinion I valued who still can’t believe that God would have me be anywhere but in a Sunday school class.

But I followed my heart and I’m glad I did. And I started doing this for her, but of course, now I do it for both of us. And God has used those times powerfully in my life and in her life too. In her life too. And I was the only person I am that would allow her to cook a meal for them. And she needed to do that. She needed to do that. And she also says to me often, “You’re the only one that will let me talk heart to heart. You know? And, oh, I want you to talk heart to heart. And, you know, I want to benefit from all of those things that God has poured into your life.” And she shared a lot of her life with me. But she never was one to give advice. Never told me what she thought I should do or if she thought I’d done good or not. In fact, I’m one of the teachers of Sunday School on TV, and we tape them ahead, you know. And, oh, I don’t like to sit there and watch me teach with her. You know, I just, ugh. But she never criticized, you know, she never would comment and make a judgment of how I had taught, and I appreciated that.

But there was one Sunday morning that I went in and I walked in the kitchen and she said, “Sit down. There’s something I want to tell you.” And I knew, you know, I knew this was something. And we sat down at the kitchen table and she said, “Charlie, you know the scripture that says if you have faith the size of a mustard seed you can move mountains.” And I said, “Yes, ma’am.” And she said, “Well, I’ve lived my life moving mountains by faith over and over and over.” And she kind of pounded on the table. “Over and over and over,” she said. “You know, I’ve moved, I’ve cast them into the sea.”

And I knew that was true. This lady has lived on the verge of poverty all of her life. Actually, I suppose, not on the verge, in poverty. All of her life. When her third child was just a baby, her husband was committed to an insane asylum and he died there. And he had been headed that way for many years. So, life had been hard before that. And she had no skills to market and she’s done everything. She’s sewed for people. She lived in homes and took care of people. She worked in dry goods stores. She cleaned houses. She never owned a home, never owned a car. She had started having heart attacks occasionally when she was in her late 70s, I think, and had several other serious illnesses along the way. She’s buried two of her three children. Well, you get the picture. You know, I knew what her life had been like. So, I said, “Yes, I know you have.” And she said, “But Charlie, those weren’t mountains like you see in pictures with trees on them. They were mountains of being alone and poor and hurt and disappointed, and mountains of sickness.” And I said, “Yeah, I know.” And then she looked me full in the face and she said, “I’ve noticed that you try to climb the mountains in your life.”

Oh, I thought, she’s been noticing too much. And quick as a flash, I said, “My daddy taught me that that’s what mountains were for.” My daddy was her baby brother. “That they were to climb.” And as I said that, I felt, even as I do now, the sting of tears trying to form, and I fought to keep ’em back because, in a sense, she had attacked one of my most treasured, you know, one of my most dearly held ways of meeting life and of measuring my self-worth. And she took my hand and she said, just ever so gently, “It’s okay, Charlie. It’s okay to climb mountains, and some, it’s even good to climb. But when you get to the top, the mountain’s still there. And if you cast ’em into the sea, it’s gone.”

And that was the end of the lesson. End of the lesson. She never referred to it again. And that’s the closest she has ever come to advising me. But I tell you, if I could integrate that fully into my life, and if I can let that become a part of me, like the word has to become a part of me in order to conform me to the image of Jesus Christ, then she will have given me the best possible advice and enough to work on for a lifetime. And as I ponder this in my heart and as I struggle to consider the best approach to a given situation, instead of beginning the upward overcoming climb immediately, I become aware of a quieter strength within me and of a more restful self. And I know that it’s come from above and I am learning to be. Sometimes that means that I do things, but often it means that I do not do things. One of the treasured things that has been given me, CFO gives me, is a family within which I can explore and I can evaluate and I can practice such different, new to me, ways of living, of walking in faith. And I want to make it plain that I’m not talking, when I talk about new ways, I’m not talking about exploring or evaluating or playing with new truth, but of finding new ways to live the truth that has been here for me all along.

But truth that, although it’s subtle, the environment of my life has not always upheld. I mean, how many of us when we read that verse about moving mountains by faith would have said it isn’t true? None of us would have. But we might have said, “Well, now that’s figurative, you understand.” Or something else that would have allowed us to escape the meaning or to escape unchanged within. But it’s been within my CFO family where I have been most free and most able to take that jewel that Aunt Edna gave me, or that God gave me through her, and have the courage and receive the support to, by faith, cast mountains into the sea. And I’m so glad that Glenn Clark used phrases like “experimenting with kingdom living” and “training to be athletes of the spirit,” because these words tell me that I’ll be using, I’ll be utilizing these concepts and these experiences, and I’ll be able to use them in the days and the weeks and the months and the years ahead, and I’ll use them in life every day in the nitty-gritty, and I’ll be more teachable and I’ll be stronger in my faith. But I will have had a safe place, CFO, with folks who love me and who accept me just like I am, in which first to experiment with casting mountains into the sea, and forgiving hurts that seem unforgivable, and in choosing to love when it would seem so much more reasonable to hate or to ignore or to reject.

And as I have read Glenn Clark, and as I have looked anew at the Holy Word of God, believing more than ever before that living the life we are called to live is not only possible, but more, it is an abundant life. A life filled with the deepest peace and joy. And a life where failure can be experienced without devastation. And where the very worst that can happen to us can be used of God in such a way as to bring good out of it. And I know that it’s no accident that I came into CFO when I did. I had lived within 40 miles of Kenlake, where Kentucky CFO is held, all of my life, and I’d never heard of it. I had been, since early adulthood, a seeker and a searcher after the spiritual. And though I had not made a lot of progress, I had not given up. And then, at the time when my son had died, when my marriage was falling apart, I was put in touch with CFO. It was no accident. It was no accident. It was God’s timing. Because He does supply my every need, and I have to remind myself of that over and over again. The timing must be His. I don’t reach out and grasp.

Because He will bring it to me. He will bring it to me. And only His timing is perfect. I’d like to share with you a little bit about my life this morning. Where I’ve come from, and where I am, and maybe the direction I’m headed in. I’m the fifth child in a family of nine. The middle one. Five from the top, five from the bottom. I’m the fourth of six girls. And situated right between two of the three boys. And the youngest is a boy. And my dad was a farmer. And so I was one of those privileged ones who grew up in a rural setting. And that’s almost disappeared, even in western Kentucky. Rural just isn’t as rural anymore. Or, you know, the TVs and the highways and telephones and fast automobiles have changed all that. I went my first two years to school in a one-room schoolhouse, which we walked to, about two miles away. And we drank water out of our own or a borrowed tin cup. And we went to an outhouse. And we had pie suppers and cakewalks. And it was a wonderful life. It was a wonderful life. And we lived on a farm between farms owned by uncles of mine. So there were plenty of aunts and uncles and cousins around.

And though I didn’t have any cousins my own age in Kentucky, I was counting last night, I have between 45 and 50 first cousins. Now, they all didn’t live in that area. But many of them did. But I always felt a little cheated because there was… I only had one cousin my age. And she lived in Portland, Oregon. And she came to visit us once. I’ll never forget it. And she wanted… She’d been in a dance recital. She wanted to do her little dance routine. And so my daddy rigged up lanterns. We didn’t have electricity. Out on the front porch, and she did her little tap dance on the front porch. And I was pretty much in awe of her. But we grew up in the country. We went to Sunday school and church regularly. You know, if you… It was never a question. You just… You went. When they had church, which wasn’t always, depending on the weather. And I was in the Sunbeam band. And if you had a Southern Baptist background, you know what the Sunbeam band was. A little missions group. And I have two vivid memories connected with my spiritual life during my first seven years. And I’ve come to believe that they were significant to my… And they were part of my spiritual journey.

My growth. And that never occurred to me until I was sort of doing a spiritual history a couple of years ago. And both of these occasions just came back to me. And then more recently, I was asked to think about the scriptures, particular scriptures, that had been important in my life. And again, these two things came. So, I’m aware that, yes, God’s hand was on me even then at a young age. And He was doing things in my life and touching me in ways that were building blocks for later. Preparing me for things that would come. And one of the events happened when I was about four, I think. I was in the Sunbeam band. And my leader was a cousin of mine. And she taught me the story of Abraham and Isaac. And I remember that we went over it, over and over and over again. And on one great Sunday, I was to tell before the whole church the story. I can still feel the tallness of the lectern I was standing beside. You know, oh, it was so big. And there were so many people there. I feel kind of that way now. And I was telling my story, and I was just doing great. And when I came to the part where Abraham raised that knife, I just burst into tears.

And the horror of it hit me. And I was Isaac. And Abraham was my daddy. Obedient to God, raising a knife. And I just sobbed and sobbed. And my memory ends there. But they tell me that I recovered and I finished the story. I didn’t disgrace the family. So, I know that that story has been really important to me as a Christian. And I’ve thought about it so often and read it over and over. As I made that gesture from time to time, to the best of my ability, to acknowledge that my children were not my own, but gifts from God, which remained always His. And it didn’t strike terror in my heart to remember that truth. Not at all. It has been and it continues to be a really humbling experience. To have been given the honor and the privilege of being the parent and the caretaker of those three children. Who are His children. The second incident happened on an Easter morning. And I don’t know how old I was, but I was preschool. And at that time, we lived in a three-room house. And there were nine of us, counting Mom and Daddy then. It was before the last two kids were born. And it was pretty crowded, as you might imagine.

And that morning, one of my older sisters had gotten me ready, I guess, for Sunday school. And I was supposed to keep me occupied or out of the way or something. She was going to read to me the story of the first Easter. And again, I remember this so well. We were sitting side by side in what we called a Davenport chair. It was a wooden rocker with high arms. And there was room in it, you know, for both of us. And she had her arm around me. And she was reading out of Halbert’s Bible Story. Do any of you remember that book? It was… Oh, it was our treasured Bible story. Good, Bill. I’m glad somebody does. It was… It was so precious. And I was so disappointed. My children preferred other Bible story books. And I wanted to read to them out of that one. But anyway, she was reading me the story of the first Easter and showing me the pictures. And again, I just broke up. I just cried. And I cried. And I cried. And I remember the heartbreak I felt. And sometimes I wish now that I felt that heartbreak. That same depth of heartbreak when I hear the story of the first Easter.

But I seldom experience Easter with that. That picture just, you know, maybe fleetingly, but going through my mind. And not too many years ago, I wrote this sister. She lives in California now. And told her what that is. She didn’t even remember it. And I remembered so, you know, her nurturing. And I wanted to share that with her. And it’s really precious to me. Well, when I was seven, our family moved to a community about 21 or 2 miles away. And it might as well have been the end of the earth as far as we kids were concerned. You know, we were leaving our cousins and our friends. And all that we had known. But we did move. And it was to a bigger farm. And with a wonderful, big old farmhouse. It was just like a palace to my mama. And still no electricity. That didn’t come until I was a freshman in high school. And still no running water. That didn’t come until after I was grown and had left home. Married. But you can tell already that I had a wonderful childhood. Good, staunch Christian parents. Hardworking, honest, salt-of-the-earth kind of heritage. And a really normal kind of family in those times. I know that by today’s evaluations that there were many dysfunctional aspects of our family.

And most, if not all of us, have had it one time or another to deal with some of those. But who hasn’t? You know, who hasn’t? What family isn’t in some way dysfunctional? But I grew up going to church whenever there was church. And my mom was the instigator of the first vacation Bible school in our little church. And she helped form the WMU and all of the mission groups that were part of our denomination’s life. And when we moved into that community, there were only about 20 folks attending this church. So our nine really increased the congregation. We were welcomed.

And I don’t remember how old I was. And I don’t guess anybody wrote it down. But when I accepted Jesus as my Savior. But I remember when it was. I remember, again, vividly the experience. And I was baptized in a pond that was big enough that they called it a lake. And I began what I think most of the folks in my church did. And, you know, I tried to obey the Ten Commandments. And most of it wasn’t really hard because the ones that I understood, I pretty well had been taught to do anyway. You know, to be honest and not to steal and to honor my parents. And some, like having idols, I didn’t know what they meant. So they weren’t a concern for me.

And others I thought were just for adults. My dad didn’t talk much about his faith. He just lived it. And he did say grace at meals. But until I was a teenager, and as the direct result of an incident that occurred in our church, I had never heard him pray aloud in church. And he would be called on from time to time. And he would just always say, “Excuse me.” And I thought that was all right. Because if my daddy did it, it was okay. But there did come a time when there was an incident in the church. And he stepped forth in leadership.

And it had a great impact on my life. And after that, it was interesting. Because after that, when he was called on, he would pray in church. And I even heard him voice an opinion once or twice in a business meeting, which I had never heard before. He lived it. And Mom was more vocal. And she was a doer. Very creative. And a very dedicated Christian. And I always knew that she prayed about things. And that her heart was for missions. And for the less fortunate. And though we didn’t have electricity and running water, when the missionaries would come to visit our little rural church, it was always at our house they stayed. And I can still see… There was a missionary from China. And I can still see he and Daddy. When I was being pushed off to bed, they were sitting by the lamplight. And Daddy was listening so. And I have good memories of those kinds of things. But I’ve had a strong Christian heritage for which I’m so, so thankful. I remember Dad telling me one time that he never worried about whether any of us would accept Christ when he spoke to us. And he said, “You know, a lot of people would say, have you know, need to talk to…”

He said, “I never felt called to talk to any of you all about that. And I always knew when He spoke, you’d answer.” And he walked by faith. He walked by faith. As most farmers do, I think, or else they couldn’t be farmers. Anyway, I married right out of high school and came up north to Detroit for two years. And while we were there, we attended church very spasmodically. And I thought I was enjoying freedom, you know. And during that time, I became pregnant and lost the baby by miscarriage. And far from family, far from home, I sought to find rhyme and reason. And what I came up with was, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away, and blessed be the name of the Lord.

And I remember writing that to a sister who had a child stillborn at about the same time. And as I look back, I could think, well, how sad. That in essence, I thought the Lord took. But that’s not what I really think. Or better put, it’s not what I really know to be true. Because rather than being sad, I’m thankful that I had that much faith. I am thankful that that much faith got through to me. And I hung on to it. And I hung on to God through that. And through that verse. And that was enough for me at that time. And what my experience has been is that in every crisis in my life, my Heavenly Father, my Savior, the Holy Spirit, in whatever manner and depth I have been able to receive His ministry, it’s been enough. He has been enough. More than enough. And when I later lost two other children in miscarriages, and when I lost a 16-year-old son by death, and when I lost a 26-year-old marriage, when things were tough, and I was bewildered, and I was despairing, and when I was frightened, and when I have failed, and when I have been lonely, He has been enough. And He has been nearer to me than my very heart.

And I used to be so angry about things that my parents or my church didn’t teach me about the Christian life. But I’m not anymore. I’m sorry I haven’t really learned all that was there for me that God has put before me. And I’m just eternally grateful that He has remained faithful. That He’s never forsaken me and abandoned me, regardless of my faithlessness or my apathy or my indifference or my self-centeredness. And I know that my parents and my church gave me the very best that they knew how to give to me. And I know that their hearts desired, just as my heart has desired for my children, the very best. Well, we followed the Detroit stint with two years in the Army, and part of which, a very small part of which I spent in my parents’ home, and one year of which I lived in Germany. And on Christmas Day, the year we were in Germany, we were spending it with my sister and her family. They were over there with the military, too. And we got word on Christmas Eve that my grandpa had died, and he was the one for whom I was named. His name was Charlie. And that was also my first Christmas to be away from home. And even though I was in my sister’s home, I was not on the farm, and I was away from home.

And I remember so well on Christmas morning that my brother-in-law, who was Catholic, got up and went to early Mass. And he came back in the door, and he looked at my sister and my husband and I, and we were lounging there with our coffee. And not condemningly, but with a bewildered look on his face, he said, “I can’t believe you guys are not going to church this morning. It’s the birthday of the Lord, and your grandfather has just died.”

And we got up, and we went to church. And that was the first time I ever took communion in an other-than-Southern Baptist setting, and it was a very powerful experience. When my husband was discharged from the Army, we came back to western Kentucky to settle. We’d had enough of Detroit. And we were in the midst of our families, and I was then carrying the baby who would be our firstborn, the first of three. And once we got started, we didn’t lose any time. We had three in four years. But we began attending church, actually, that he had grown up in regularly. And I assumed the expected role of the young married female. I helped in Bible school, and I taught Sunday school off and on, and had the preachers in for a meal, you know, during revival. There was one young minister, though, when I was a teenager that really caught my attention, that really spoke to me. And he was actually the pastor, my boyfriend. In fact, he married us later, and just before he and his family went off to Brazil to the mission field. And he preached things that I hadn’t heard before up to that point. And he was encouraged, and he preached out of love. But he was very straightforward with us teenagers, and we loved him.

We just loved him dearly. I remember that on the day of our wedding, he gave us a letter to open later, and we did. And in it, he encouraged us to let Christ be the head of our household. And I confess that though I appreciated him, I didn’t have any idea what he meant. We didn’t know. We just didn’t know. But I’ve kept up with him, and very recently, he was in our area, and I got to go hear him preach again. And just as then, when I was a teenager, the gospel proclaimed through him was powerful and appealing, though firm, you know, and foundational. And afterwards, we had a long time of sharing, and his life has been one of such devotion and service. And I know that he, again, was part of God’s plan for my life. Well, as our three children came along, I began to have a more active prayer life, as we are wont to do when we become parents. And one of my sisters lived within 40 miles of me, and we began to share prayer needs occasionally, and not praying together, but asking each other to pray. And she told me that when Liz, my oldest, was a tiny baby, she said, “Now, start praying right now for the man who someday will be her husband, for the one that God has for her.”

And I did, because I thought, if my older sister said it, I thought they knew everything and how to do everything right, and they did. They do. A lot, anyway. But I began praying that, and on July 10th, this year, Liz, the oldest, was married to a fine Christian man whom I am sure God planned for her to marry. So those were happy and exciting, and growing years and wonderful years of family and friends and a very happy marriage and a wonderful church life. And we eventually moved to Princeton, where I now live. And that was when the oldest was three and just, we had two then, and the younger was born within a year. But we joined the First Baptist Church there, which was pretty big. And I was a little taken aback by that size because I’d only gone to small country churches before, but I loved it. I joined everything. And anything they would let me do, I would do it. And, you know, that was plenty. They were willing for me to do plenty. And I was accepted, and I was loved, and I was nurtured by the women in that church. And after about two years, I promoted into a Sunday school class that was taught by the pastor’s wife.

Her name was Jenny Jones. And, oh, what a woman of God. What a woman of God. One day, she put this leather-bound copy of J.B. Phillips’ New Testament in my hands. And, oh, my. The Word of God just opened up to me. I had assumed up until that time that I was just one of those who was probably never going to understand the Scriptures and, you know, just listen and be quiet.

But it was wonderful. Jenny has told me since then that I was just like a little baby bird sitting with my mouth open waiting to be fed. And she did feed us. And for the first time, I became aware that a Christian was to grow, to become. And I read that New Testament, and I marked in it, and I questioned her, and Jenny taught us, and she prayed, and she led us into service, not just in things at church, you know, but out in the world. Remember, she called me one day, and she said, “Sweetheart, I want you to go with me to see this young woman, a young teenager.” And she named a young teenager whose family did not go to our church, but whom someone in the class had brought to our attention. And this little girl was pregnant, and she was not married. And Jenny said, “I bought a little gift, and I just thought we’d go out and see Pam, and just love her, and her precious family.” I was flabbergasted. I was embarrassed. I didn’t know, but I trusted Jenny. I trusted Jenny. I knew that she would never, ever lead me astray. And so I said, “Yes, I’ll go.” And all the way out into the country, I remember it, she talked to me, and she talked about the love of God, and about the forgiveness that we all need every day of our lives.

And she talked about sins that show more than others. And then she talked about sins that we can hide because they’re in our hearts. And she told me that one was not greater than the other. And I had a lot to think about after that. And although I was caught up in our good life, so caught up in it, I guess, that I didn’t change a lot. But God was changing me. And He was not wasting that witness from Jenny. And we all need Jenny Joneses in our life. And we all need to be that kind of person in the lives of others. But God was changing me because I was His. I was His creation, His child, His forever. And He was interested in me. And I didn’t know that, really, at that time. But He was there and He was active within me. By the time Brother J. Bill and Jenny left Princeton, he had baptized our two older children, the girls. And by this time, a lot of the glitter had worn off my life. And I was still very active in the church things. But I was beginning to be disturbed because my life the rest of the week wasn’t reflecting much of Christ. And all the things in church weren’t making a lot of difference.

And I was encountering some problems as I raised the children, as we raised the children. And I was encountering problems in the marriage and in the business that my husband and I ran together and in relationships with friends and things that were hurtful and things that were not my ideal of what they should have been. And I began to really question whether God was indeed interested in the nitty-gritty of my life. And I was disillusioned. I was disillusioned with the church. And a particular low point came when I was promoted to another Sunday school class. And the first Sunday that I attended was Temperance Sunday. Now, I don’t know if you had those in your denomination or not, but we had them.

And the teacher’s opening remark was, “Of course, we don’t have this problem. But we need to learn about it in case we meet someone who does.” Well, I had already begun to realize that alcohol was a potential problem in our home. And I felt totally alienated. And I didn’t go back to that class. Instead, I volunteered to teach youth.

And I guess I need to say that it took years, years for the Lord to finally get me to see that this precious Christian woman was indeed just that. She was a precious Christian woman. Misguided a little bit on that particular thing. But in so many ways, so productive for the Lord and so very nurturing in the faith to many, many young women and couples, and so faithful to the church. And oh my, what a woman of prayer. Such a woman of prayer. And I came to appreciate her a great deal. But it took years. And I’m really sorry that I never talked to her about that. Because I think it would have been the loving thing to do. I think it would have been the loving thing to do. Not to straighten her out, you know, but to share with her a part of life that perhaps she needed to know exists in Christian families too. But during this time of disillusionment with the church, I said to my sister one day over the phone, “You know, I’ve just decided that if this isn’t going to work and God isn’t interested and, you know, it isn’t going to have any impact on my life, then I’m just ready to chuck it all.”

And she said that she hung up the phone and just fell to her knees and said, “God, she means it. We’ve got to do something.” She sent me Mere Christianity. And I read it through and I cannot tell you one thing it said. But when I finished reading it, I was okay. You know, I knew that God was indeed interested in the nitty-gritty of my life and that… So, I read and I had found the freedom to consider things that I had not been exposed to before, and I kept coming in contact with things about the Holy Spirit. And I was attracted but cautious. A few people in our community and one friend of mine in the church had begun to meet together for prayer and for meetings, and they had speakers, and I really wanted to go but something held me back. So I just began to read everything I could get on the Holy Spirit, and this went on for several years. But there were years, I know that was, you know, were a preparation for me to receive all that God had for me.

And finally, in February of 1977, my sister and I just in faith knelt by my bed and asked the Lord to fill us with the Holy Spirit, and we received by faith. And lights didn’t go off and bells didn’t ring, but neither of us has been the same since. And there was so much more that needed to be done within me, and there still is. But from that time on there has been into my life, I’ve been aware, you know, the persons and the events and the situations that would be the seed and the plow and the rain and the sunshine that would grow that which was birthed in me that day. And I am so grateful for the provision that Abba has made. And at times it has seemed to me that I made so little progress, and even as I thought of sharing with you, and as I share with you this early part of my journey, I think, I’ve been so slow, you know, it’s been so slow. But sometimes it’s the circumstances of our life, I think, that show us the progress that we’ve made, and that has certainly been true for me.

There was a day in June several years ago when I had been walking with some friends in Princeton, and we were coming home from the walk, and I was going to go into my house and they were going to get in their cars and leave, and we heard my phone ringing. And I dashed in to answer it, and they were still just kind of standing on the porch talking.

And my daughter, who was a paramedic in our town at that time, said, “Mama, you need to get over to Joanne Grandstaff’s. Right away, someone’s on the way to tell her that Ann Laurie has been murdered.” Ann Laurie was her 33-year-old daughter who lived in an adjoining town. And Joanne and Bill Grandstaff were dear friends of mine. And Ann Laurie was a beautiful, vibrant young woman. She had never married, but she had greatly desired a family, a husband and a family. And Joanne was part of the prayer group that met in my home every week at that time. And we had been praying that spring. Though Ann Laurie had gone on the Emmaus walk, and she had really become content and satisfied and happy in the Lord, whether she was to have a family or not. But we had been praying that spring that God would grant her the desires of her heart.

Well, I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing Vonna say, and I started to question her. But she said, “Mom, go. Go right now. They’re going to need you.” So I ran out. And when she had said that first, I had just hollered to my friends, “Don’t leave.” And I ran out and told them what had happened. And we got into our cars, and we drove over. And we did indeed get there just as they had been told. And I stayed far into that night as many others came and went, and as the enormity and the horror of what had happened was still more than we could even begin to comprehend. And when I left there late, alone, and I drove home a mile or so, I was just in shock. But when I opened the door of my living room, I just… It caved in on me. And I just fell down. I had a deacon’s bench there, and I just fell down and put my head on it. And I just sobbed, and I sobbed, and I cried out, you know, “Where are You, God?” You know, “How could this be? Why?” You know, “Why?” And on and on. And I cried, and I cried. And finally, I was just exhausted. And I heard myself say, and I was so surprised,

“I don’t understand it. There are no answers. And there will never… This will never make sense. But I know that You are who You say You are. I know that You will do what You have said You will do. And I trust You.”

And I really reached and went through a passage that night. And I believe that was in 1985. And I cannot begin to count the times since then that when things have gotten tough, and when the world seemed to be having full sway, when everything looked hopeless and dark, and when my dad was suffering and wanting so much to die, and we had all just, you know, “Please, Lord, let him go home.” And still he lived and suffered. I would have well up within me from the very depths of my being, from where I have learned to call my true self, as Thomas Merton, it’s common terminology, and I felt that well of, I know that You are who You say You are. I know that You do what You say You will do. I know that You are trustworthy. I know that I know that I know. And I know that God used my vulnerability and my brokenness that night to teach me something that I had known with my head, maybe forever, certainly for years. And I had known it some in my heart, too. But my Heavenly Father wanted it so locked into the fiber of my being that I would not have to come to that again, that I would never have to think it through again, but that it would become so much a part of me, that assurance and that security, that firm foundation, would be there.

And it would sustain me and it would carry me through. And because it was the truth, I could come then to live out of that truth. And it would be available to others around me. Well, as you can see, God has stirred the waters of my life at many, many points from even the earliest of childhood. Elizabeth O’Connor, who is another one of my favorite authors, said in Search for Silence, “Our chance to be healed comes when the waters of our lives are disturbed.” And I recently heard a talk by one of our CFOers in which he related some healing that had come to him a few years ago. And the healing was of some wounds from very early childhood. And as he continued his story, he related that more recently, I guess what you would call a more complete healing of the same wounds he had experienced. And he told us that he had come about as when God had used some of the deep experiences of CFO to stir the waters of his life. And he said that in looking back to that first time of healing, he felt that he had not at that time picked up his mat and walked. And he said he thought that if he had at that time, perhaps he would have had a fuller and more complete healing at that time.

And I think this so beautifully illustrates to us that we have a part in our own healing, a very definite part, in the answering of our own prayers, and a powerful part of Jay’s sharing was that it was through CFO. It was the program and the prayer groups and the praying together, the relating intimately and transparently within the trusted family of CFOers that he had reached the point of being able to pick up his mat and walk. So what I would then say to myself and to you this morning is let’s don’t try to keep the waters of our loved ones’ lives from being stirred.

Let’s let the Lord stir not only the waters of our lives, but the lives of those we love, even when it causes pain. But let’s just be there. Let’s be there the way Jenny Jones was there for me and many others and many of you have been there for me. Let’s be there to love unconditionally, to support prayerfully, to walk alongside of untiringly, and to encourage as they pick up their mats and walk by the grace of God. And this is what I have experienced and what I continue to experience in CFO and what from the bottom of my heart I want to enable others to experience. Father, we just thank You. We just praise You and we acknowledge You as Lord of all. As our Father, as our Savior, as our Lord.

And we anticipate what You have ahead for us this very day. In the name of Christ. Amen.