My Heritage

Good Afternoon,
Last night we at TTC were privileged to hear Bro. Bob Baglin preach. My, my, what a treat! And preach he did! About our great heritage in this Pentecostal Way. I couldn't help but be reminded of some thoughts I had a few days ago about how blessed I am to attend the greatest church. And how that sometimes I can forget and take it for granted. I have been so blessed by God that sometimes when I really stop to think about it, it blows my mind! Let me tell you a bit about my Heritage.

Both sets of my grandparents were in the church. My dad's dad was a preacher and pastored a little church here in the valley. While my parents did backside for a few years at some point in their lives, as far back as I can remember, they have lived for God. My father retired from the Immigration Service at the age of 52 and went full-time into the ministry. Assisting two pastors for some years before finally taking his own pastorate at...a little church here in the valley.
I really don't remember a lot about my grandparents when it comes to church. I just know they lived for God. And I am grateful. (I need to get the details on them.) But when it comes to my parents, well, that I do know. Here's what they gave me as my heritage in God:

My Mom:
My mother is/was the best singer/song leader this side of anywhere. My love of singing comes from her. She taught me to sing with everything that's in me, to give it all I've got. That if my song does not inspire me, then it will not inspire others. That even when I'm struggling, keep on singing anyway-God deserves the glory even if I'm not on top of the world. I can remember lots of times as a kid growing up, when she would be leading song service and we'd be singing a song about heaven-like, 'I'll Be Singing There', before you knew it she'd be marching around the pulpit, whooping and shouting and the people couldn't help but get excited right along with her. (I miss that.) Sometimes when I'm singing, I can kinda hear her...
My mother is a praying woman. She's told us the story many times, of how when my dad was not living for God and she prayed him back into the church. She prayed for him at home. She prayed for him at church. She prayed for him in the alter after the preaching. Then she prayed some more when she got home from church. She prayed without ceasing and it worked! One day my dad up and said, "Georgia, I don't think it's safe for you and the kids to be driving all that long windy road to church by yourself. I'm going to start driving you." And the rest as they say, is history. She's up in years now (soon be 79), and daddy gone these last five, but she is still faithful to church, even when she's tired and weary in body. Faithful all the way.

My Daddy:
My daddy was a man of faith with a capital F. He believed God could do anything and was blessed to have witnessed so many miracles in his life. As I've mentioned in posts about him before, he believed right up till the day he died that God would heal him of cancer. I can remember so many times while he was sick when he would smile at me and say, "Well, sis, I feel much better today, I think the Lord has healed me." I want that kind of faith.
My dad was a self-taught Bible scholar. And his knowledge of the Bible went as far and maybe even beyond anything he may have learned had he gone to any Bible college out there. He transferred his love of study to me, and while I will never be anywhere close to being as knowledgeable as he, I love The Word- and this glorious truth! And I have him to thank for it. More then anything in this world, daddy loved the truth. And he gifted that love to me. If I ever asked him about someone that was struggling with going to church, or believing the truth, he would ALWAYS quote the scriptures in 2Thessalonians 2:10-12. Daddy bought the truth, and sold it not. I don't plan on selling it either.
Daddy taught me to be faithful to church. If we were sick, we went to church to get healed. If we were out of town, we went to church in whatever town we were in. We did not miss church. He taught me NOT too be late...anywhere. He always said if you were fifteen minutes early, you were late. I agree. Sometimes when I lean way back in my chair and look up to the heavens, seems like I can hear him encouraging me to keep on keeping on. "Sis, buy the truth, don't sell it, and for heaven's sake, when the trumpet sounds you had better not be late!"

Yes, Bro. Baglin, I have a tremendous heritage. One that I don't ever want to take for granted. And one I intend to pass down to my children and grandchildren. Thank you Elder for passing by our way last night and reminding us! We love you and Sis. Baglin so very much!