that day more confused than ever. I knew I needed God’s help anddesperately wanted to go to heaven instead of hell. But, terrified by the thought of doing “the chicken” in front of
my friends, I told the Lord if it was all right with Him I’d just take a pass on that Holy Ghost deal.
22
ELBOWS AND THE ENFORCER
Truth be told, I would have preferred to skip church altogether in those days. But I didn’t have a choice. Since my
granddaddy was the preacher, our family had good seats down front in every service—and we were always in
them. As the smallest, I sat right next to my mom in case she needed to elbow me to keep me quiet. I knew the
routine well: If you got three elbows, then you got "the look" which meant she was going to tell Daddy. If Daddy
found out you were acting up in church, you'd better pray fast because you were quickly approaching the valley
of the shadow of death. The only scripture I ever remember Daddy quoting was, “If you spare the rod, you spoil
the child.”
Whether I liked it or not, in my family, going to church was like breathing: Life depended on it.
My grandfather built 39 churches for the Church of God denomination before he finally moved to heaven at 103
years old. My mother, having grown up in the church, determined early on that all of her children would do the
same. Even after traveling all week and sometimes all night, she always got home in time to take her children to
the house of God. As far back as I can remember our family was there every time the doors opened.
Once Momma made the decision that we were going to church, my daddy enforced it without negotiation. There
was no such thing as child abuse in the 1950s and children definitely didn’t sue their parents. If a judge had told
my dad he couldn’t whip his kids, my dad would have whipped the judge!
For years, I went to church not because I loved God, but because my dad was bigger than me. As an angry
adolescent, I vowed that when I got as big as my daddy, I wasn’t ever going to church again, and nobody was ever
going to tell me what to do. I adopted a rebellious attitude that put me on a destructive path and almost cost me
my life.
Today, by the mercy of God, I see things differently. I’m very thankful for my parents’ commitment to my
Christian upbringing. I understand that Mom, the one who first told me about Jesus and taught me to sing for
Him, gave me a priceless gift. Her dedication to her children hearing God’s Word has produced a tremendous
harvest in my life.
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SUNDAY SCHOOL BLUES
I don’t want to tell you how to live
I don’t want to tell you what to give
I don’t want to tell you what to do
I got to be me; you got to be you
I’m not trying to tell you I’m right
I’m not trying to tell you you’re wrong
I’m not trying to tell anything
I’m just trying to sing my song
I don’t want you to accuse
No and I don’t want you to refuse
Just want you to love not hate
To try to understand and appreciate
What He’s done for me and you
So please don’t give me those
Sunday School Blues
Lyrics by Mylon Le Fevre
Angel Band Music
Used by permission
Church Boy
24
Even though I never read the King James Version of the Bible, I still quote scriptures from memory in King
James because of all those years of sitting in church. The Word of God was planted in my heart at a young age
and, just as Isaiah 55:11 says, it did not return void.
THE GOSPEL ISN’T BAD NEWS
As grateful as I am for the truth I was taught in church, not everything I learned was right. The "hell, fire, and
brimstone" style of preaching I heard there implied that every time you made a mistake, God was going to get
you. I guess the purpose was to either scare you out of hell or the hell out of you, whichever came first. It’s no
wonder I often left church feeling discouraged! It seemed like all I ever heard there was bad news!
As I eventually discovered, the true gospel is just the opposite. Gospel means Good News or glad tidings. It’s
the message that God is a good God! He’s not mad at anybody. He is not out to get us, He is out to bless us!
Because I didn’t understand how much God loved me, as a teenager I fell into severe depression. I gave Jesus my
sins every Sunday but I never gave Him my life. I asked Him to help me with my problems but I never changed
the bad choices I was making every day. I got stuck in a cycle of failure and frustration.
One time when I was about 13 years old, I realized how pointless it all seemed. A youth evangelist preached at
our church and, feeling conviction for the sin in my life, I went down front (for about the hundredth time) to “get
saved.” After I prayed at the altar with the other sinners, asking God to forgive me, the evangelist told us to turn
around and face the congregation and the front doors of the church. Then he said, “Now I want you to go to
school tomorrow and invite all your friends to church because they really need
