Ken's dad was the pastor of the 1st Baptist Church in Pryor during the forties. I was between four and nine at the time. I remember many of his sermons. I didn't know Ken. He graduated from high school when I was in the third grade, went to Tulsa University for a year, hated it, joined the Marine Corps and a year after that was in flight school--then the Korean war--flying and doing ground support. Over a hundred missions and getting hit regularly. He was a Captain when I met him. I was very young.
Later, I had the privilege of living with Ken's dad and mom for a few months when Ken spent thirteen months in Okinawa, or Japan, or the Philippines or all three. I can't remember. He was at all those places one time or another. During that time, I got to hear his dad speak again. By that time I wasn't a child anymore. I heard his wisdom with the ears of an adult. Well, simi-adult. I was twenty-two at the time with two little girls. He was even better than I remembered.
When he finished preaching and if there was a baptism, he would step forward in the water and take hold of the glass front and begin to sing. He had a beautiful voice. The song he usually sang was "The Ninety and Nine."
When I was telling you about lost boxes and lost coins yesterday, I thought about the verses of the lost sheep and hearing Ken's dad singing about them.
Matthew 18: 12-14 "If a man has a hundred sheep, and one wanders away and is lost, what will he do? Won't he leave the ninety-nine others and go out into the hills to search for the lost one? And if he finds it, he will rejoice over it more than over the ninety-nine others safe at home! Just so, it is not my Father's will that even one of these little ones should perish." (Jesus is speaking.)
I don't know about you, but I am distressed over the people that I know, family and friends, that do not know the Lord. They are wandering around lost and don't know it. My prayer is that God will burden their hearts with their condition. I pray that God doesn't give up on them.
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