So we arrive to give to toy drive with Chet Buchannon from 98.5 local radio station who stays in tent camping like conditions for twelve days to raise toys and gift cards for locals in need of just one gift this Christmas. His catch phrases includes “a bike in a box fills truck” and “feel the tingle” which means you feel the need to give.

This radio station makes a huge difference in the lives of kids no matter race, education, ethnicity, or religious basis. Wouldn’t each season be so simple instead of fighting, but go back to our founding fathers and remember that the religion did not guide their decisions, but the Savior they wanted to serve. Our Constitution reflects the idealism of the Ten Commandments. Read them and explain why you don’t believe in them? Our laws reflect them. The essence of our hearts wanting to give to others is the epitome of innate humanity given by whom? Some may not want to admit, but what draws us together? Each person has to answer that question:

Ch. 4 Bake Sale

“Hi Helen.” Pastor Marc greeted her with a warm smile and brief hug.

“Good morning pastor,” Helen briefly hugged back, but made Delores giggle as she rolled her eyes. Delores knew and so did the pastor that she did not much care for him at all.

Helen felt he was too young to be so cynical. He made it very clear that he did not believe that she had premonitions about the future. Not in a sense of predicting the future, but she would feel a person’s pain and as she prayed she could see faceless figures or dark shadows. That was until her little girl who overwhelmed her thoughts and prayers with wide eyed vividness.

Pastor Marc came from a strict upbringing and was taught that premonitions were for psychics and not church members and that is where the trouble started. As the lead prayer warrior, Helen had touched many lives and were in awe of her ability. She was not shy or ashamed of her gift. When pastor Karl passed away it was tough on the whole congregation. He was a gifted pastor and used the strength of his prayer warriors on a daily basis. Helen had been a highly respected member of the prayer warrior group for the church and community. Not that she wanted to be noticed, but she was passionate about powerful prayer that summoned strength and guidance for every human being. She had once had a strong voice in the church regarding prayer and personal gifts. That was then and now a new pastor. What was she to do?

“You don’t have to be so flamboyant about your prayer life,Helen, to make your point,” Pastor Marc had told her in a closed door meeting after one of her prayer rallies.

“Why not? God loves to hear the prayers of his saints. It is a melody to his ears and I think people take praying for granted and need to get excited about praying to our Lord. It makes me want to run, skip, jump, and yell that God hears all prayers. That Jesus died for all. Why not be loud? We have always had eventful prayer rallies once a month. It gets the church body excited about prayer. It is powerful.” Helen stood with shoulders back, her finger maybe too much in the new pastor’s face, but her indignation of his attitude was beyond her understanding so her voice came out as a reprimand instead of explanation of her heart.

“I am not saying that prayer is not important, but do we really need to rally every month on future events? We could reduce that to twice a year and use church resources on other activities or provide for the community.”

“Oh, so you don’t think that prayer provides any use for the community?” Helen stood stiff with each hand tightly squeezing each hip.

His arrogant attitude and his persistence of dropping her cause was more than she could take. ” Let me tell you young man. I was here when there was no building. My husband and I  put forth blood, sweat, and tears for the good of this church. We knew how much prayer was needed to sustain the momentum of our church. You should be ashamed to call yourself a pastor. I expect you to bring this up to the board, but I refuse to stop our prayer rallies if I have to raise the money myself.  This church body will not be bruised because of the likes of you,” Helen stated boldly with a fire in her voice that made Pastor Marc look away. She then grabbed her purse and stomped out the door without even allowing him to respond.

Her anger burned for days and she had so much she wanted to say to him after each sermon, but she held her tongue each time, but prayed for a clear vision on how to deal with such a tunnel visioned pastor.

“Good morning, Delores,” Helen spouted as she grabbed her friend in a bear like hug which was opposite of her bland “Hello” toward the pastor a second before.

Each day was a struggle for him as a new pastor and she knew it, but something inside her stubborn spirit would not let it go. She knew God would handle the situation. He already had. The new pastor found himself embarrassed as the board rejected his plan to cutting Helen’s monthly prayer rallies. Helen sat in one of the pews trying to withhold her smile and feel proud because it was not her they were defending, but the very word of God. She truly believed that prayer was the backbone of any church.

“Well that is that!” One church member smacked his leg and stood hovering over Helen with his hand extended as an expression of congratulations.

Helen took his hand limply and just nodded in his direction. Helen felt a mixture of sorrow and guilt for the young pastor since he was chastised in front of many church members. She stood and gazed at his slumped shoulders as he quickly walked past her.

“Pastor,” Helen called without realizing she had uttered the word. Why would she be calling to the man who wanted to change her beloved church? But her heart wrenched to tell him, “what do you want me to say Lord?” Her mind raced and in that instant he turned to meet her eyes, all she could do was smile slightly. The moment was awkward as he just raised his hands and they both stood in a silent stand off. The new pastor shrugged turned around and exited; leaving Helen standing there with church members patting her shoulders like she had just won some kind of war.

So here she sat next to the new pastor who was all smiles, taking money and selling her cupcakes. In this light, he did not seem so bad, but could she trust all the sincerity in his voice? He had made it quite clear that he did not believe in premonitions.

“This is a huge church, so of course, you may have a dream and it seems like someone in the church fits that dream and then is healed or a prayer does get answered, so to me it just seems like a coincidence that your dreams match the needs of our church members. I just don’t believe that God works that way.” Pastor Marc admitted to Helen who sat across with arms folded trying not to scream her response.

“God spoke to many people in the bible. Look at Abraham, Jacob, King David, Moses, and Apostle Paul, just to name a few! God spoke to each in a special way, so why not now? Why can’t God allow people to have premonitions or revealing dreams? Helen asked curtly.

“I do believe God hears our prayers and that prayer is important, but I don’t think that we as a church should use premonitions because it sounds cult like or psychic like. It has a connotation that is negative and I just feel it takes away from God’s purpose.” Pastor Marc reasoned with a slight smirk.

“Well then as Christians we need to take the word back. Change its connotation because when I am in the eye of prayer God reveals images to me and I know in the depth of my soul that I am having a premonition and God is the driving force of pray for that person or group. I hope someday God opens your eyes because then you can get over this cynicism in your mind.” Helen stood stiffly, placed her hat on her head with a sharp whip of her wrist, gave a slight nod, and stomped across the room. “Dear God,” was all she could utter as she closed the door behind her.

After the bake sale and all was cleaned up, Helen headed back to her car feeling pretty good that all her cupcakes were sold, so she helped raise $400.00 for the junior high school group to go to  summer church camp. It was exciting to see the eyes of the kids light up when told they had raised enough money, so no kid would be left behind.

“Strength in numbers,” Pastor Marc commented as he placed the money in the associate pastor’s hand as the kids jumped around while praising God.

Helen’s heart skipped a beat watching the exuberance as the sound of laughter filled the church’s grand hall. She had made such a small contribution, but like the loaves and the fish, God had multiplied people’s generosity.

As she pulled into her driveway, “thank you Lord for such a wonderful day,” Helen prayed. She also prayed for the new pastor as the Lord tugged at her heart to have more patience and compassion for him. “Maybe I will give him a bear hug next time I see him.” Helen commented to God as she looked up and smiled. Just the sight of the blue sky, feathery clouds, and warmth of the sun sent a calmness through her body. “Safe in the arms of the Lord,” she hummed to herself as she went into her house.