Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: HOPE (10/29/20)
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TITLE: A Childhood Harvest | Previous Challenge Entry
By larry troxell
11/04/20 -
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President Kennedy’s inaugural challenge, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,” inspired me along with his dream to deliver a man to the moon within 10 years.
I was barely a teenager when we toured Independence Hall to witness the cracked Liberty Bell. Later that day my younger brother and I stood at the rear of the crowd as we listened to the president speak with his “funny” accent.
An elderly couple, Bill and Mary Greene, brought us to Philadelphia to hear JFK. They had reached out to our parents in impoverished Kentucky to allow them to bring my brother and I to Pennsylvania for the summer. The exchange had been arranged through their church and a Kentucky missionary.
The Greenes exposed us to a way of life different than anything we had ever encountered. Such as the trip to Philadelphia, to see where Washington crossed the Delaware, to enjoy a Broadway play, and stare in awe at the massive Empire State Building.
They considered this summer as a mission of hope for two poor Kentucky brothers to open their eyes to life’s other possibilities. It was also their intent, at our mother’s urging, for us to attend Sunday School. We went to the Greenes’ church but they realized we were unhappy. Worship appeared so rigid, like following a “menu” for the order of service and written prayers repeated each Sunday.
Sensing our discomfort, they asked what church we had attended. I told them Baptist where we sang songs like “The Old Rugged Cross” and people were invited to accept Jesus as the congregation sang “Just As I Am.”
Mrs. Greene located a Baptist church, apparently the only one in the county of city slickers who worked in either Philadelphia or New York City. The tiny church with its white weatherboard siding, black metal roof, and hand-me down pews reminded us of the one we attended in Kentucky. We were dropped off for Sunday School and then Mr. Greene would come back for us.
As a new babe in Christ I fell in love with the church and its chubby young pastor. He was always clean shaven, wore a white shirt and a red tie with a cross clip. This congregation of less than 20 became family. We took part in Sunday School, sang hymns to the top of our lungs, and ate lots of friend chicken at picnics.
One Sunday the pastor encouraged our class to hand out gospel tracts in the neighborhoods. He said it was spreading the love of Jesus and giving hope to the lost. Our objective, he said, was to plant and water seeds and reap the harvest.
He quoted Luke 10:2 (KJV).
“Therefore said he unto them, the harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few: pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into his harvest.”
I asked what he meant by harvesting. He explained when we told others about Jesus and continued sharing; we were planting and watering the love of Jesus. And if they accepted Christ, we witnessed the harvest of souls.
Excitement burst my heart. Even though I didn’t necessarily know what was happening, my life changed when I accepted Christ. My brother and I asked the pastor’s permission to distribute gospel tracts which listed Bible verses how we were sinners who could be saved.
This weekend of hope was one of the greatest times of my life. We excitedly distributed the tracts, invited people to church, and the pastor taught us to pray with those who would allow it. Only a few rejected the tracts or made fun of us. On Sunday, I didn’t see anyone we invited except for a neighborhood kid my age.
The pastor urged us not to be discouraged. Planting and watering was to be continuous. Few souls would be harvested but we should continue our mission of hope. We returned several weekends to share our faith using gospel tracts.
Decades later I am grateful for the experiences the Greenes exposed us to, but I shall never forget the summer of hope planted in my heart by the pastor.
Non-fiction
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