Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Evangelism (11/01/07)
By Linda Roth
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Daddy graduated from Bible school and got his first church last year.
We got to move from Omaha, Nebraska, to the country. Some of the other church kids told me I’m now a PK, “a preacher’s kid”. I don’t feel any different. Stanley told me I should be the best kid in the church cause my daddy is the preacher. His daddy’s a deacon, but Stanley hasn’t mentioned nothing about that.
Mostly I like my new role, both being a PK and being part of evangelism. I don’t do much evangelism myself, but I get to hear all the tales. Every time someone new gets saved and there was rejoicing in Heaven, there’s rejoicing in our house, too.
Daddy tells Mom about who asked Jesus into their heart, and Mom punches the air and yells, “Praise the Lord!”
The best part of evangelism is the special meetings Daddy is going to have every fall when the glossy green leaves are beginning to turn their favorite colors and again in the spring when the plants all around us are just babies and the bees were buzzing and droning. Revival meetings mean church every night for two weeks. Daddy invited a new evangelist, Vernon Duerkson, to come and speak. After that first time, I always look forward to Vern’s coming.
He is a big guy, kind of like a hockey player with short black wavy hair. Only Vern never talks about sports, just about God saving people and Christians getting their hearts right. Vern wears a blue suit that can be washed in the bathroom sink and hung on the line.
I always call adults by their proper name, Mister or Miss, or whatever. But Vernon Duerkson is Vern. Guess because that’s what my parents call him every time Daddy has him come for meetings.
Once Mom had a bowl of fruit sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, and Vern ate some of it. He said it was the best center piece he ever ate. It must have been our purple grapes he chewed. Apples would make noise, and Vern is very polite.
Vern feels like a part of our family. Because he was so concerned about evangelism, it helps me worry about it, too. I pray real hard during the altar call for anyone God might be speaking to at the moment. My prayers must help because people always get saved when Vern comes to preach.
I figured when I grew up I’d never marry any one if Vern doesn’t like him. I think that much of Vern. When I’m thinking of evangelism, I think of him. The two just go together.
Vern always makes a big fuss over all the church people. He takes notes so he can remember months later what he talked about with each person.
And he gets to go to people’s homes to eat good meals with roast beef and hot mashed potatoes. Sometimes our family gets invited too. I know we’ll get an invite if a widow asks Vern. Vern never goes without us then.
One time when Vern was here and I was on my way to my room, I walked by the bedroom where he slept. Only Vern was gone. Every afternoon Daddy and Vern went out to look for some sinners who needed to get saved.
That room was as neat as could be and smelled like a man. Not a wrinkle on that blue bedspread. ‘Course Mom had cleaned the room real good before Vern came, and he sure didn’t get it dirty.
It was then that I saw Vern’s shoes lined up part way under the bed. He must have two pairs because I’m sure he didn’t go with Daddy barefoot. I let out a hissing sound like a tire with a blowout. No one was around except the cat that bolted off double time. So I slipped into that room and slid my stocking feet into those two black shiny 13’s.
Yep, just as I suspected - no one could fill Vern’s shoes.
But I will never get to ask him about the man I will some day marry.
This morning God took our Vern to Heaven.
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