Jesus Himself testified that a prophet has no honor in his own native-place. Well, that’s the way one translation records it. What He actually said in Mark 6:4 is “A prophet is not without honor, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house.” The way I was received and honored by my home church, the Wynnbrook Baptist Church last Lord’s Day is ample evidence. What an honor it was just to preach in the three morning services! And the folks couldn’t have been more gracious and more receptive to this preacher that they trained and sent out over 50 years ago! It was more than obvious to me that many of you were praying and God was answering!
But, if that wasn’t enough to make me doubt my credentials, you should have been at Sunday Dinner with my kinfolks. You notice I capitalized that Sunday Dinner – where we grew up it was not just another noonday meal. Sunday Dinner was an event! As I sat at the table in James and Regina’s beautiful home it took me back to days of my boyhood at my Grandmother Gordy’s home when the family gathered for Sunday Dinners. There were 43 or more beloved cousins, all direct descendents of Maxie Gordy feasting on the cuisine of a new generation. The fellowship must have been a foretaste of glory divine.
It was a banquet of home cooking that would have made Grandmother proud. Honestly, it thrilled my soul –and my appetite- to see the way the young ladies of our clan demonstrated their culinary abilities. Grandmother herself could not have cooked better candied yams than Regina’s. . . so good I got another helping for desert! Beverly made a grape salad that was delicious, and Inda Ruth’s famous deviled eggs, and somebody made a broccoli/cauliflower/who-knows-what salad - I’m slobbering in my keyboard just recalling all the good groceries at that Sunday Dinner. So I better quit before Lisa and Adrian and Janice and the others will think I’m slighting them.
Let me just tell you IT WAS GREAT being home again!
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