Missionary, Pastor, Friend, and Man of God

Our church was blessed to have Evangelist Alton Beal speak at our Bible Prophecy Conference. His messages helped to direct our thoughts to future events described in the book of The Revelation. His messages spoke of the saved saints seeing God on his throne and the glories surrounding it, to the bowl plagues that will be poured out on those whose name is not found in the Book of Life.

Alton Beal is also the President of the Ambassador Bible College located in Latimer, North Carolina. A former pastor of our church taught at that college. ABC is a missions focused college and Brother Norman Johnston was a missionary and pastor to South Korea before being a pastor to our church. We became friends. Since our birthdays were in March, we often celebrated together by eating lunch then scouring book stores for interesting publications.

The most important thing that I knew and understood about him was he was a man of God. He enjoyed life to the fullest and God filled him with life. He organized tenting trips out West for our youth, making the plans for our food, places to camp, and National Parks to visit. It was an extensive itinerary and often our campers would be busy from early morning until we set up camp and cooked our evening meals after the sun had set.

His last mission trip never came to pass. He organized several of the students at ABC to join him in a mission trip to the island country of Madagascar. On the day before he was to leave, he had a massive heart attack and went to be with his Lord and Savior. Although we all were saddened by his departure, it was a blessing. People look at me like I am cruel and heartless, but if he’d have actually made it to Madagascar; it would have been a nightmare to get his body back home for burial.

I felt blessed when my wife Cindy passed away 19 years ago. I made the same comment then. I said her death was a blessing, not that she died, but that she was filled with ovarian cancer and yet she had no pain; that was the blessing. Ten days after she was diagnosed, she too went to be with the Lord. As a nurse, I’ve seen too many people suffering pain from cancer that the strongest of medication will still leave them writhing with pain.

Four Years in the United States Navy and Nary On a Ship

I enlisted in the Navy shortly after graduating from Connellsville Area Senior High School. It was a time that the Vietnam War was going on. I had no desire to shoot another person and decided to become a corpsman. I entered in boot-camp, a lieutenant thought he was funny would do his best to scare men who signed up to be corpsmen. His big guffaw was how long does a corpsman survive in Vietnam? From the time he leaves the ship until he ALMOST reaches the beach. What a butt he was.

Basic training was at Great Lakes Training Center. Of course I was training in the winter months, November into January. Corps School followed at Great Lakes as well. After graduation I was transferred to Orlando, Florida; from temperatures in the low 50s to the 90s in Orlando I worked at the hospital, first on an orthopedic ward, caring for men who returned from Vietnam. Later, I transferred to the Emergency Department. While there, I managed to go fishing off Cape Canaveral several times. A friend had an 18 foot fishing boat. It was the largest vessel that I “sailed on” my entire Navy career.

I just read a story of a sailor coming back from shore leave who confronted a guard when he tried to board his ship. When the guard asked him to show his identification, he refused and ended up in the water when he was pushed off the boarding gangplank and it reminded me of an incident when I worked in the Emergency Department. We received a call saying the hospital’s commanding officer and an admiral were coming to be seen. “They’d been involved in an accident.” We geared up for trauma. When they strolled in our C. O. said they’d overturned their golf cart. I directed them into a large examination room that housed 2 beds. I asked to see their I.D.s. We needed to create a chart for each. Showing identification was standard protocol for anyone presenting themselves to be seen in civilian clothing.

I could see the C. O. thought he was special, didn’t need an I.D. and began to stammer, “We don’t need…” But when the admiral produced his card, the C. O. had no choice. He was outranked. As soon as the charts were finished, I approached the E.R. doctor and asked that he see them. Other staff members were nervous with them there. Treatment: a Band-Aid and a tetanus shot.

I guess the CO got a little testy later, because the doctor in charge of the E. D. told me, “You could have handled it with a bit more finesse, but…” Then he gave me a thumbs up.

 

Want to Know the Future?

Everyone would like to know what’ is ahead of them in their life. They would like to preview what is just around the corner. Many people will turn to the stars and read their daily horoscope as a guide for their path. Some people may seek diviners who read palms or gaze into a crystal balls. There are those who will delve into the “black arts,” witchcraft, or consult with the Ouija Board; all in an attempt to part the veil and peer into the future. But most people will not look into writings that have foretold the future for over 4,000 years. These words were written by multiple prophets in the past. Many of these foretelling have already come true and there are many more that are yet in the future. The book was written over several centuries by a goodly number of men, each adding to the record of the miracles found in past history or to the insight of future events.

Although naysayers have tried to prove this book false by not understanding the truths found in its pages, each time they’ve disputed some fact through man’s interpretation of science or an event by ancient geography or history, this book has over and over again withstood the trials of time and there are events that are still to unfold.

What book is that…the Bible. The Bible has listed thousands of past predictions and miracles written from God’s prophets in the past. None of them have been proven false. Scientists and historians have attempted to say the Bible is in error, but they are the ones who are proved wrong. Time after time, seemingly “false” passages of the Bible have been deemed correct when man’s enlightened wisdom has been the proven wrong as further facts have been uncovered.

Our church is hosting a Bible Prophecy Conference from April 24^th through Thursday April 28^th 2022. Evangelist Alton Beal will be explaining and expanding on the prophecies that are still to come recorded in the Bible. To any who nay want to see what the future holds according to the truths written on the pages of the Bible, this is an invitation to learn with us at 7 o’clock pm each evening. If you aren’t able to come every evening, please consider coming Thursday evening, the last night of this revelation of the future. Thursday is also “Friend Night” and I’m inviting you to come. At the end of the conference there will be a time to ask questions and a dessert fellowship. Feed your mind, feed your soul, and feed your body. Please come.

 

 

Postcard Collection

Somehow I became a repository for postcards. I imagine that I have nearly one thousand, more or less. The first cards came into my possession because I’m frugal, even though my kids call me cheap. It was less expensive to buy postcards while my wife Cindy and my family went on vacations to buy cards than to take photographs and have them developed. The angles and lighting was nearly perfect, probably much better than me taking the pictures. They were a less expensive to gather souvenirs and memories of places that we visited. Many cards were collected on the tenting trip out west. It was a whirlwind tour with little time to take photos, but most places had a shop that sold cards.

When my mother-in-law Retha Morrison traveled, she would send cards to Cindy or to our kids. We have quite an assortment of cards from the many places that she visited. We also have postcards that were sent to her. Many of them were when she was a Miss Retha Johnson and there are some that she sent to her parents.

I have a smattering of postcards that came from friends and workmates who knew that I had a growing collection of cards. Some are from foreign and exotic places. My collection grew with the help of friends. I gathered a few when cards were sent to nursing units. I would ask if no one wanted them, not to toss them out, but save them for me.

Missionaries have sent postcards to our church and I collected them too. A majority of the cards, especially the vintage and antique cards were given to me when my parents died. My grandmother Rebecca Rugg Miner had quite a few sent to her. Some passed down from my grandparents Miner. Many were from relatives who wrote to them and were tucked away and saved. Other cards were from my grandparents Beck. The older cards were sent to my grandfather Edson Thomas Beck or my grandmother, Miss Anna Nichols Kalp.

I’ve bought a few at antique shops, thrift shops, or yard sales, but not many. The last additions to my collection were given to me by a friend. She decided to clear out things after her husband died. She didn’t want them any longer and decided to entrust them to my care. My thanks to all of my friends and family who have given me such a collection. I try to share a different one on Facebook rather than to let the silverfish destroy them.

 

When Shadows Fall

When purple shadows fell and fireflies would come out to dance in the summer’s deepening evening sky, I would listen to the songs of a whippoorwill on a fence post at the edge of my grandfather’s Raymond Miner’s field. Sometimes a pair of mourning doves would add their sad sounding tones to the chorus of crickets and frogs from the swampy area behind the chicken house. I remember sitting on one of the two green Adirondack chairs and settee that claimed spots on my grandparents Miner’s wide concrete porch. It extended across the front of my grandparents Miner’s large two-story farmhouse. There was another settee made of twisted grapevines and sapling pieces, but very few people sat on it because the ribs of the twisted vines made the seat uncomfortable for people to sit.

Four tall hemlocks guarded the entrance of the brick walkway. They spread their branches to protect the house from the heat of the sun and the chill of winter winds. The porch became a shady haven for me where I often played or sought a quiet refuge beneath their thickly needled limbs. It was a cool sanctuary on the hottest of days, a dry shelter when the rains poured down, and even protection from the cold winter winds.

Grandma Miner would store her rugs on the Adirondack settee in the winter. They made a great cocoon where I could to burrow deep into their warmth away from the cold and the noise of aunts, uncles, and the horde of cousins still inside the house. It was a blessed relief after the activity, boisterous voices, and accumulated heat of Gram’s wood burning cook stove and the mass of people gathered inside.

Gram’s house had one other sanctuary. It was found in their formal sitting room. Children were forbidden to step foot inside, but if I was careful and quiet enough, I could slip inside unobserved and crawl behind the bulky sofa. It was clad in pale blue stiff, almost porcupine-feeling plush fabric that was prickly and rough for any kid to sit on when they were wearing shorts. The stiff fabric caused bare legs to itch almost to the point of being unbearable. It eliminated a child’s ability to sit still for more than a few seconds.

Sometimes my memories fade as I age and shadows fall blurring facts or hiding names and places from my remembrance. That’s why I share these recollections in writing as they emerge from the past. I want my thoughts to be captured before they become lost as the darkness falls and the lights fail.