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I love that little Baptist Church just off of TheirWay Road.

I met my Savior, Jesus Christ, there, and His Grace bestowed
Salvation on me when I knelt down in a room of prayer.
I offered Him my most unworthy heart right then and there.
And, at that very moment, I knew I was born again,
and set free from three decades and four years of secret sin.
I knew my life was His now, and not just some 'might-have-been.'
A soft sweet peace came over me and calmed me from within.
And when I stepped outside, that night, the winter stars now glowed
with brand new light above that Baptist Church on TheirWay Road.

To worldly eyes, that little church may not have seemed like much---
a plain brick bulding, rather old, and it had felt the touch
of time and weather through the years of sunlight and of rain.
And when you stepped inside, you found the furnishings were plain.
The padding was a little faded on the several pews,
the carpet had been worn, in spots, by many Sunday shoes
(and, in the summer, by the Wednesday Night Youth Group's bare feet).
The finish on the east interior wall was not complete.
No high-brow decorator had brought things of worldly mode
into that little Baptist Church just off of TheirWay Road.

But those were superficial items that real Christians spurn.
The setting does not matter when the spiritual discern
the Gospel's truth---much like those early brethren who, in Rome's
precincts, became a congregation in the catacombs.
They worshiped from the heart without the least worldly appearance,
and did not give the devil any chance for interference.
Their fellowship was built upon enjoyment of Salvation,
and God's sweet Holy Ghost provided all their inspiration.
For, when the Bible leads us and the Scripture seeds are sowed,
they sprout into a church just like the one on TheirWay Road,

with prayer and visits. What a fellowship we all had there!,
and after Sunday evening worship, we all ate our share
of ice cream, with the fixings, as we talked and laughed a while,
until we parted---shaking hands, with hugs, in Gospel style.
And even when devil sent, that spring, a worldly goad
he could not take away the friendships sealed at TheirWay Road.

I wish I had sufficient words to speak of worship time---
it brought my spirit up to Heaven, with the most sublime
praise music I had ever heard (a flute and three guitars).
The very angels listened as they lit the distant stars.
And we had three good preachers---Brothers . . . him, and him, and him:
they preached the Bible, not some seminary student's whim.
Then at the old prayer altar, we knelt down in one accord
and felt the mighty presence of the Christ, our Risen Lord.
We had the foretaste of eternity as blessings flowed
within and through that little Baptist Church on TheirWay Road.

Starward

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