There was Macedonia Way Of The Cross Church.
My Dad was appointed Pastor of that church after their original Pastor was tragically killed. He was hit by a car as he changed a tire on the church van when returning from a fellowship service. This was many years ago.
It was many years ago that my parents laid the foundation of faith in Jesus Christ and holiness. My Mom taught us that Jesus Christ is God. My Dad preached it and preached salvation from
Acts 2:38.
My parents instilled prayer and Bible reading in us. Well into my HS years, the family would unite for prayer, lead by my Dad, right before bedtime.
As children, our bedtime stories were stories about the prophets. I still remember the picture of Obadiah, long hair, beard and these piercing eyes.
We weren't allowed to watch every movie, and not even every cartoon. Music that did not uplift the name of Jesus was never played in my parents house.
I remember specifically my Mom saying, "We're different Mikie. We're holiness people."
On occasion, my Dad would echo those sentiments, pulling us from Halloween celebrations and teaching us that, "We are not 3-god folks!"
Before I ever attended UPCI, before I knew I was "Apostolic", I knew we were different. I knew we were "holiness people".
In my UPCI years, I was encouraged to not be so close to my parents because of their "heathen ways". However, the folks who advised such were only going off of what I was telling them. The folks who advised me meant the best and I hold no ill towards them.
Over the years, I built up a sense of a "holier-than-thou" attitude towards them, or at least my Dad anyway.
Spiritual pride is still an abomination.
I'm not holier than my Dad. This could be the case for some folks, but it's not the case for Jermyn Davidson.
My horrible condition was never more clear to me than on this New Year's Eve Watch Night Service. Reluctantly, I attended my Dad's church. He was preaching and I didn't care too much for his style of delivery.
You see,
"I'm all grown up now and I've got my own style", know what I mean?
But God started to move on my backslidden heart during that service.
I saw my old man praying and preaching under the anointing of the Holy Ghost. I saw my Mom raising her hands and praising the Lord. Then I heard one of my sisters give praise to God in a loud voice.
And it dawned on me that I was in church with both of my parents, all of my brothers sisters nieces and nephews, all seeking and praising the same One True and Living God!
I was moved to tears and thanked God for His wonderful Grace to my family and to me for allowing me to see with my own eyes the holy heritage given to me and my brothers and sisters-- a heritage that none of us despise!
Our family is special in the eyes of God!
Sure my Dad is quirky, but God used my Dad and my Mom to raise 6 God-fearing and saved children, who are adults still striving to see our God and Savior in peace.
I know my parents were blessed with the knowledge that all of their seed was in one place praising the One True God at the beginning of the New Year.
For all of the mistakes, bad feelings and issues of fallen humanity that seem to plague my thoughts and memories of my family, it's good to realize that my parents did something right.
My Dad (stepdad) and I stopped seeing eye to eye on most stuff, at a young age. It seemed that we just could not get along.
But he gave me the best raising he could. He gave me a name:
JESUS CHRIST!
I thank God for my family.
I thank God for this New Year.
I thank God for my Dad.
I thank God for His Grace!
ps
thanks for reading.
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