It was 1927 and I was 6years old. Both my parents had been brought up in their respective families which were devout followers of the Mormon doctrine. Although my parents did not regularly attend church services, they did support their programs. It was time for me to get some religious training, so one Sunday morning I was dressed properly, and sent with two of my older brothers to church. It was my first experience going to any church service. After the preliminary singing of praises, and early testimonials, it was announced that it was time for the children to go to Sunday school class. My brothers poked me in my back and said, I was to follow the boys to class. I knew not what to expect, but there was approximately 15 to 20 boys’ total that I followed down in the basement to a class room with benches on which to sit. I remember the boys, all about my age, were very unruly and disorderly. Soon a young lady comes into the room and the boys settled down. I cannot recall what the teacher taught, but I vividly recall a strange happening to me. I had what I describe as a gut feeling to get up and depart from there. It was as if I was told, you do not belong here. It is unexplainable that when I told my mother about this experience, she said that I would not have to go to church any more if that is the way I felt. My dad backed her up, and to this day except for funeral services, I have not attended church services in a Mormon establishment. Because I have experienced visitations from God’s Holy Spirit since 1945, I have frequently asked myself, it this was a visitation from God, but I do not know, but as stern and strict as my parents were, I find it difficult to fathom them letting a six year old dictate anything as far as his behavior was concerned. It for sure, was a pivotal event in my life.
This was not the end, but the beginning of my spiritual, and carnal education. My mother daily studied her bible, and would often read to me lessons from it, and a daily devotional titled, The Daily Word.
As I grew older, about the age of 12 and 13, I began searching for that man named Jesus by visiting a different church each week, but never found him. Perhaps it was because He was not there, and I soon stopped searching for him that way, and it wasn’t until 37 years later that I was baptized and began attending church regularly. However, my mother had taught me when I was but 6 years of age to pray a very special prayer of faith which I did, and still do. As I reminisce the various events that contributed to the foundation on which my character and integrity built what I am today, I am humbly grateful, for I realize that I could never achieved successful living by my own efforts. I never, ever, thought that I could, or would write anything worth publishing, or would be worthy for disseminating wisdom for the edification of the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus which is the key to all truth concerning the kingdom of God, and therefore all things pertaining to life.
