When my grandfather was saved he was just twelve years old. It was in a revival service at the Methodist Church in Chatham, Ohio. He was even lay preacher once when he was a boy and he felt called to be a pastor. But some things confused him. There must have been some sin, some youthful lust, some worldly tug that made him wonder of he was really saved. Maybe he wasn’t. [Read more…] about Meeting God in a Corn Field
True Pastors
Many years ago Richard Baxter accepted a call to a church in England in a town where few knew and loved the Lord. He preached faithfully and powerfully but he did more than that. He dealt individually with every member of the community. He made disciples among the people of the community. Two full days a week he started at one end of the village and went to every house speaking to every member of every house and asking in-depth questions about what they believed. With the help of an assistant he visited all 800 families in his parish every year. During his nineteen-year ministry the town was completely transformed. [Read more…] about True Pastors
I knew you would all want to see this photo. Lois went to Mishawaka today and took over 300 pictures. This is one of my favorites. Elizabeth, Kyle, and the world’s most adorable grandson. 🙂
Bus Ride Home
Gravel roads girdled the gentle hills of rural Licking County. I rode the bright yellow school bus that growled along them one fall afternoon. It was comfortably cool. The sun was going down the crisp blue, October sky. From my seat in the bus I watched the fields and forests pass. Wind stirred golden fields of corn drying for harvest. Bright sunlight glistened off blue farm ponds. Red and yellow Maples stirred up a love of and longing for beauty in me that has never been fully satisfied. [Read more…] about Bus Ride Home
Burning Leaves
This evening I was doing some thinking and some remembering about autumn evenings. In the neighborhoods of my youth the smell of burning leaves was a part of what made autumn, autumn. Apple pie, pumpkins, indian corn, cider and donuts, and tart Johathan apples in my lunch sack or eaten with my Dad on the back steps on a Saturday morning while listening to Big Ten football chatter and fight songs on the radio fill my fall memories.
This evening I got to thinking about how political correctness has robbed us of the perfume of burning leaves. I googled it and found someone who has expressed my own heart so well.
One Caveat: I am a life-long teetotaler, otherwise I wholeheartedly concur with my friends sentiments and suggestions about how to deal with the missing memory of smoldering leaf fires.
New Book
Wednesday my new book Sunset on Summer goes to press. It should be available before Thanksgiving so you can order a case or two for Christmas giving. Details on how to buy the book will be here soon. As soon as it is ready to ship you will be able to order it here on the sight. If you have questions, send me an e-mail at ken@kenpierpont.com Click here to see the cover bigger
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