I loved my father. I also didn't appreciate my father.
My father was a preacher. Actually, he was a teacher. Teaching God's Word was what he did, and when he did that his whole countenance changed. No matter how old he got, when he opened God's word, and started talking about what was on those pages, he lit up, like a Christmas tree, I guess would be the idiom.
I really didn't appreciate my father's teaching, but in the next few BLOGging sessions, I hope to give you an inkling of the little bit that I remember of what he taught me and his congregation.
For this remembrance, let me say that my father was a teacher. He wasn't a visitor of the sick, although, he did visit the sick. He wasn't fond of conducting funerals, unless he had carte blanche with God's word from the deceased's family. He wouldn't marry two people who were "unequally yoked" -- in other words, he wouldn't marry a believer to an unbeliever. He wouldn't marry anyone who had been previously divorced.
He believed in church discipline. If a church member was "misbehaving" -- that is, behaving contrary to the principles set forth in the Bible and openly flaunting that behavior -- they were not permitted to be part of the Lord's supper.
He believed that the King James version of the Bible was the best translation that there ever was and spent his life finding things that were "out of kilter" with other translations. He knew Greek and Hebrew and often used the old manuscripts to defend his belief that the translators of King James got it correct. Personally, I learned Scripture from the King James version, and all the other versions sound funny to me.
So, get ready, we're going on a journey -- a journey that may mean longer breaks between BLOGs because I want to get my father's teaching to me, correct.
My father was a preacher. Actually, he was a teacher. Teaching God's Word was what he did, and when he did that his whole countenance changed. No matter how old he got, when he opened God's word, and started talking about what was on those pages, he lit up, like a Christmas tree, I guess would be the idiom.
I really didn't appreciate my father's teaching, but in the next few BLOGging sessions, I hope to give you an inkling of the little bit that I remember of what he taught me and his congregation.
For this remembrance, let me say that my father was a teacher. He wasn't a visitor of the sick, although, he did visit the sick. He wasn't fond of conducting funerals, unless he had carte blanche with God's word from the deceased's family. He wouldn't marry two people who were "unequally yoked" -- in other words, he wouldn't marry a believer to an unbeliever. He wouldn't marry anyone who had been previously divorced.
He believed in church discipline. If a church member was "misbehaving" -- that is, behaving contrary to the principles set forth in the Bible and openly flaunting that behavior -- they were not permitted to be part of the Lord's supper.
He believed that the King James version of the Bible was the best translation that there ever was and spent his life finding things that were "out of kilter" with other translations. He knew Greek and Hebrew and often used the old manuscripts to defend his belief that the translators of King James got it correct. Personally, I learned Scripture from the King James version, and all the other versions sound funny to me.
So, get ready, we're going on a journey -- a journey that may mean longer breaks between BLOGs because I want to get my father's teaching to me, correct.
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