February 21, 2011

And in my hour of darkness...

Bethel Christian Church, Smithville Road, Dayton, Ohio

The kind-hearted soul who has so generously allowed me to couch-surf at his abode since my release from, Miami Valley Hospital, last, Tuesday, afternoon has had custody of his two children the past two days. (Sunday and Monday.) Since he is in the midst of attempting to gain permanent custody of the kids and image being everything right now to, Children's Services, it was decided that such a rapscallion as myself might not properly embellish the desired familial image he's trying to maintain as the loving and devoted father and perhaps it would be best if I vacated the sofa during their visit.

Sunday, at ten-o-clock in the morning, I first prepared and then saddled up my gear and headed out the front door of the apartment building and into the harsh and cruel elements of, Dayton, Ohio in true homeless fashion. Hey, it's not my first ride on this pony, I was ready for whatever awaited me. Or so I thought...

As it turns out, the home church of my good friends, Phil and Elaine Cheesebrough, is a mere two blocks (As the homeless crow flies.) down the street from the couch I'm currently surfing. Phil, had recently encouraged me to visit the church and see what I thought of the place. I figured, "What the heck, the library is closed today, why not check it out." So off to the stone-block bastion of, Bethel Christian Church, I trekked, braving the elements and unknown perils of the three block journey.

From the very moment I entered the building and made my way to the sanctuary I felt as if I'd at long last found my spiritual home. The facility was elegantly simplistic with white walls and graceful arches that reached for the heavens. The stained-glass windows running along the two outside walls bespoke a quiet grace that added an almost tangible air of serenity to the chapel. The oaken pews were the perfect accessory to a beautifully designed structure and from the moment I sat down I felt that blissful feeling I get whenever I'm in the presence of, High Church. It felt right and good, I liked it right off the bat. This was starting out to be a good homeless day.

The service began with the obligatory hymns, nicely performed by a small group of adequate male and female singers and much to my surprise was followed shortly thereafter by members of the congregation speaking in tongues and prophesying. It was if they knew I was coming and had prepared a fatted-calf just for me. These people were speaking my language. Have you ever heard a prophesy that just lit you up inside with the resonance of the, Holy Spirit, confirming the truth of what you've just heard? There ain't nothing like it, folks. And before you go to thinking I was in the presence of snake-charming, writhing-in-the aisles-poison eaters let me reassure you that in that sacred space, people spoke in tongues and prophesied in a manner of quietness and deep respect. It was beautiful and quite profound.

Okay, here comes the fast montage to move this post along. After the morning service I made my way to the, K-Mart, on, Woodman Drive, ate the fried chicken and doughnuts they'd blessed me with at, Bethel Church, in the morning, drank coffee, did a drawing and then made my way back up the hill to, Bethel Church (A trek of unimaginable hardship.) for the six-o-clock lecture on the twenty-three sure fire signs that the end times are indeed a coming. Uh, it rocked! The speaker and I agreed on many points and talking with him afterward was a real pleasure.

Let me make a long story short by simply stating that by the end of my first day of activities within the cozy confines of, Bethel Church, I wanted a whole lot more of what they have to offer a soul within this cozy, warm and friendly house-of-God. I don't care if I am currently little more than a penniless, homeless, hippie-rapscallion, I'm planning on going back to, Bethel Christian Church , and getting me some more of what they're serving up to folks who drop by their humble abode. You'll find yourself properly nourished, both physically and spiritually.

You folks can count on seeing me, Wednesday night! See ya then...


Blogger Little House On Wheels said...

Happy to hear from you. I remember a church built on a sad piece of land right off of State Road EE. The minister was Pastor Birge. He would give sermons that satisfied the parishioners... until one Christmas Day he took a deep breath and spoke the truth. I was totally blown away by him. Unfortunately no one else was and he was "fired." That was the last time I attended church.

February 22, 2011 8:28 PM  

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