Easter Mine, Part 1

Easter Mine, Part 1

Today's post will be longer than most, not quite as much to the point because I want to share my Easter story. Not that something unusual happened to one Easter, but that Easter became a reality for me.

I grew up in central Mississippi (literally, the geographical center of the state) and a word I rarely use certainly seems applicable to my home state, home town, and our home in the 1950?s and 60?s, idyllic. Yes, that describes my childhood years through high school. One certainly could not call it a perfect life, but idyllic, yes. For example, my friend and I could get on our bikes on any given Saturday or most any day during the summer months and ride all over town without a care in the world. You see, all parents watched out for all the children in town, in fact, all adults watched out for children. That provided a safety that we seldom see today in America's hometowns. I miss that, I truly do.

There were issues just like anywhere else in our nation, but so much of the ugliness of those years was only present in a peripheral sense. Racism, it was very real but usually kept quietly in the heart, one's own house or family, or only an occasional flare. I never experienced it, but I witnessed it one day at school and today wonder why I did not intervene. It was words and my words could have been just as strong to stand against it. You see, whereas some of my peers felt strongly that the races should remain separate, my grandfather never lived that as the patriarch of our family. I guess I adopted his attitude and philosophy-he expected the best of everyone-age, race, religion, nothing mattered except that you did your best at every job. One evening I was at our local "movie", alone for some reason. When the "show" ended, I walked out and not in a particular hurry walked to my car I had parked in front of the "Strand." An older black man, perhaps tens years older, approached me [I guess you need to know that I stand 6' 3", dressed in jeans, boots, and denim jacket that night. Never worried about anyone accosting me.] and asked for a ride. He said, "I came with some friends and they jumped up before the show was over and left me here." I said sure, this is my car. His name was Otis, and when we got to his place, told me not to drive the hundred or so yards up to his house, said he had big dogs and told me to ask for Otis if I ever needed anything. One other thing helps highlight our community. With the Vietnam Conflict raging, we loved and supported our military unlike so many other places in the nation. Never once did a Vet return home to be disparaged by anyone. We were surrounded by veterans, and we respected them and those that served during Vietnam.

Sorry for that rabbit trail, but I wanted to share about my home town. Along with everything else that made for this wonderful time to be a child and grow up in the deep south, we, almost all the citizens, attended a church of one kind or another. There was a respect for the Christian life and lifestyle that permeated our society. I was taken to church at tens days old and so far as I know, still hold the record for being the youngest baby ever in the nursery. We attended almost every service and eventually began to attend the mid-week service on Wednesday night. I sang in the youth choir, was involved in RA's (Baptists will remember this.), vacation Bible school in the summer, etc. We were a classic "church" family. Then something changed, the summer after I graduated from high school my parents attended a Bible conference in south Florida. They were very different when they returned. Over the next several weeks and months, our home became Christ-centered, not church centered. I am not sure I can adequately describe the change, but I saw things I had not seen before. My mother began studying the Bible openly at our kitchen table; my dad began reading his Bible daily and more than once on his days off. Both of them began taking notes when in church and listening to tapes of Bible teachers. They had a genuine hunger for a knowledge of the Bible and of the God it revealed.

At age eight I went forward in our church and the clerk came to me and began filling out a card and asking me questions. I remember little of that night except that a friend of mine had done the same thing a moment or two before I move to the front of the church. The one thing I remember from that year and experience is that I was baptized the following Easter, this was in 1961. I don't remember much changing in my life as I grew older. Particularly in high school, I began to ask questions and to question this thing called Christianity. I was reading from the Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, from time to time at night. I was also reading Edgar Casey "On Dreams", and other things related to the parapsychology movement of the day. I was fascinated with the prospect of learning to use more of my mind than I did in school or other endeavors. I eventually began to explore concepts that would become the "New Age" movement. I considered the claims of transcendental meditation, Hinduism, a little of Buddhism, but mostly the ideas promulgated by parapsychology. Eventually, I tried psychokinesis, telepathy, meditation, and out-of-body experiences.

I learned to empty my mind of all conscience thought and to feel the emptiness and blackness of thoughtlessness. I had one telepathic experience when a friend of mine spoke to me about having a conversation after school that day. As she walked away, I glanced back at her and instantly knew the conversation we would have; not just a general sense, but the specifics of what was to be in that conversation. I had one out-of-body experience, I tried this several times. I was lying on my bed and almost suddenly realized that I was looking down on my body. None of this effort to expand or discipline my conscience mind ever satisfied the desire that drove me to try these deceptive experiences. I longed for something that was more than what I saw in the adults in our church.