A child-like faith
I became a Christian as a child of six. Owasso was a tiny little hamlet of about 250 people, barely four blocks long and two blocks wide straddling a two-lane concrete highway meandering southward towards Tulsa through the perennially-flooding bottom lands and across an old bridge over Bird Creek. This little wide spot in the road had two or three churches, a grocery or two, a school, a collection of small houses, and not much else. Our children’s church teacher and her husband (a nonbeliever) were dairy farmers as were my parents and as my mother’s parents had been. Our teacher helped with the milking and some of the farm work, but on Sunday mornings after chores, she would pick up her grandchildren and any other neighbor kids that were so inclined and take them to church. I still remember well those Sunday mornings when she taught us flannel graph stories from the Bible including Noah, Moses, Joseph, David and Goliath, and Daniel in the Lion’s Den. She mixed in her own stories of “Barney in the Barrel,” “The Little Red Hen,” and others, all reflecting the truth of Christ’s love […] Continue Reading…