BLESSINGS TO THE FLOCK REMEMBERING THE DAY OF OUR DEATH,
In 1986, we received a flyer at our front door. On the flyer was the picture of what appeared to me to be a stern old preacher and an invitation to attend Smoky Hill United Methodist Church. I said to my wife Teresa we should go so our daughters Jamie and Crista would know right from wrong.
By early spring, March and April 1987, I was reading my Bible, and going through the struggle of Faith. I had a meeting with Rev. McArthur and a few other church attendees on the direction the Church would be taking in coming months.
Baptism was mentioned and at the end of the meeting, I said to Rev. McArthur, I have never been baptized. I was ready for a debate, but the Pastor shot right past my thinking, and pulled out a calendar and said Mother's Day is coming up and that looks like a good Sunday for a Baptism. I said my children haven't been baptized either, and the Pastor said we'll put down all three of you for May 14th.
When that Sunday came all the family was invited down from the mountains to the Church. The Pastor asked the Way family to come forward and we were standing at the altar with Teresa holding Crista and I holding Jamie. Our girls were baptized and I was a little surprised I wasn't being baptized also. Teresa and our girls took their seats with the rest of the family, and the Pastor asked me to kneel.
Something strange and wonderful was happening, because I could only sense the hand of the pastor, and the presence of The Almighty so high above.
Are you truly sorry for your sins? And the weight was heavy. And the Living Water.
All I know is I died that day, and when I got up I wanted to shout Hallelujah, but instead all I did was smile at my family and the congregation.