My mother has brought up my nine-year- old sin.  I did witness the murder of Jerry Cisco that day at the fair.  I saw him beaten to death, but when the deputy asked me later, I lied.  Said I hadn't seen a thing.  Sometimes, some sins stick in your craw.  That lie sure has.  I lied, and because I did, a migrant worker on our farm got away with the murder of Jerry Cisco.

I wonder if what I did was a felony?  I don't know, but I got away with it.  Until now.  Brother Akers, our pastor, always thought I saw it, always thought I lied. He had his suspicions.  He was right all along.

But what nobody knows is that I saw the guy that beat Jerry Cisco to death get killed too; stabbed to death with a knife by another migrant worker on our farm. Here I am nine years later, only seventeen and I've seen two murders.

"I did see Jerry Cisco get killed in that fight," I'm telling my Mother.  "I lied."  I tell her the rest of the story, how the one that killed Cisco got himself killed not far from our house.

My mother is sitting down now; her head's in her hands.  From the sound of her voice, she's crying.  I can't blame her; I'm ashamed of myself.  I feel even worse; I can't stand to disappoint my parents.

She's collected herself, so she says, "You know you'll have to go to the deputy and tell the truth this time.  We'll all go with you."

"OK," I say, "the sooner, the better." Funny, but I'm relieved.  I don't like secrets, especially keeping them from my parents and these secrets have been a yoke on me for a long, long time.

We go.  My palms are sweating, but I tell the truth.  The wheels of justice grind quickly.  The deputy says that since Jerry Cisco isn't among the living any more, case closed, but he says he'll put out the word on the other migrant worker and that I may be called to testify.  He thanks me for coming forward, but gives me a stern look when he tells me not to lie to the police anymore.  I look at the floor and nod.  We go home.

I'm in college now; got an academic scholarship to a pretty good school. Odd, but blue-eyed Jenny who used to sit on the teen row at the back of Brother Aker's church with me is here too. We've gotten to be pretty good friends.

One Saturday afternoon, she starts telling me about this church she's going to.  I have to admit to her that I've given up on church; all I ever got from that place was a list of things to do and another list of things not to do.  Seemed like the "do-not" list always grew every Sunday. Besides that, I got tired of being yelled at during the sermons.  Since nobody talks that way in real life conversations, I figured it was fake and just for show.

"No, this is different," Jenny says.  "Just go with me one time, like tomorrow.  See what you think.  I promise that nobody's going to yell at you; nobody's going to be angry that you go to your county fair. You won't find them harping about money either."

I go with her the next day, but I'm not expecting much.  Seems like one church is pretty much like another in my opinion.

When we walk in, a friendly guy greets us and he's all smiles.  Seems genuine enough.  He's dressed well and he's neat.  He's friendly and I have to admit, he's made a good first impression.  Jenny really wanted me to go to her Sunday school class, so we go down the hall and enter the first door on the right.

Jenny introduces me to the teacher and, by the way he talks, he seems to be sort of a quiet fellow.  Odd what you notice about people.  His fingernails are dirty. He's not dressed as neatly as the first fellow I met, but that's OK, I guess. He asks if I'm a student and then he tells me that he's a plumber.

We sit down and I look at my watch and wonder, "How long is this going to go on?"  He hasn't even started yet, and I'm ready to leave.  After asking Jenny, she tells me that it's over at 10:45.  Now I know.  Forty-five minutes and it's over.  I sit back for the long haul.

The plumber begins by telling us to open our Bibles to Acts.  That's different. Back home we looked things up in our quarterlies.  Since I didn't bring a Bible, Jenny and I share one.  That's OK.  I like Jenny.  We're in Acts 10 and the teacher starts talking about a Roman soldier named Cornelius and I'm fighting the urge to yawn because I've heard about him a million times.

"Look at this fellow.' the plumber says, "See what sentence two says about him."  Sentence two?  Back home, "sentence two" was "verse two."  "That's different," I think.  I've read "sentence" two a thousand times, but I look any way and along with the rest of the class, we point out that he's got a family, he's devout, God-fearing, and a giver (Brother Akers would probably say that he's a faithful tithing man).  We mention that he also prays regularly, probably not just when he gets in a jam.

That was easy.  This plumber is like most preachers - he doesn't ask us anything that requires that we really think, all we do is list things.

The teacher then asks us to look at sentence 36 (What happened to "verses?"  This is hard to get used to.)  and the ones after that.  He asks us to tell him what else we can learn about this soldier.  He's getting my attention because he seems prepared, like he's going somewhere.  (In most of my Sunday school classes, the teacher has rarely been prepared.  All he's done has been to say, "What does this verse mean to you?"  Then we get five different opinions and we leave with nothing.)

Some members of the class mention that from what Peter is saying to Cornelius, that Cornelius believes many things about Jesus - he knows that God sent Jesus with a message of peace; that God anointed Jesus with the Holy Spirit and with power; that Jesus went around doing good and performing miracles. Somebody else points out that Cornelius knew that God was with Jesus.

I like this plumber.  I don't know where, but he's taking us somewhere.  It's not my other classes where I left the room wondering how a verse in the Bible could have five different meanings and then concluding that if it had five different meanings, it didn't mean anything. He's got me thinking now.

"So let's put this all together," the teacher is saying.  Here's a devout, praying and giving man, a man who believed God was with Jesus and that Jesus did miracles with great power.  But, is this man saved or lost as of sentence 38?

He's done it.  He's got my attention.  I figure that if such a person walked into my church back home with those qualifications and beliefs, Brother Akers would make him a deacon, maybe for life.  But I see it.  With all this, this soldier isn't saved.  I figure if he were saved, there'd be no need to send Peter to him with the gospel.  If he were saved, leave him alone.  But he's lost.

I've gotten a bit ahead of the teacher, because that's exactly what he wants us to see, only he wanted us to see it for ourselves by looking at the particulars.*

Now the plumber draws in the net: "What Cornelius needs is the gospel. He's got all these works and prayers, but he's lost.  He takes us to Ephesians 2:8-9 and Titus 3:5 where somebody read out loud, "He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of His mercy."

"So what does Cornelius need?" the teacher asks.  He needs to believe the sentence in verse 43, "that everyone who believes in Him receives forgiveness of sins through His name."

The plumber draws the net tighter: "Do you believe that forgiveness of sins comes through believing Jesus' guarantee of it?"

Then it hit me!  My Mother and I knew something was wrong with Brother Akers and what he used to say.  He was always having us do something to try to get to heaven, things like giving our hearts to Jesus, things like giving our lives to Jesus, things like having us sign a card committing ourselves to Jesus, things like stopping sinning or stopping some sins.  But what Acts and other places like what I've read in John are saying is "Believe" and don't add a second condition to it.  Brother Akers was adding to "believe" and when he did, he changed the whole thing.

I'm not emotional, so nobody could see it, but I was about to shout out loud because I'd seen the truth.  Now it all made sense to me.  Whatever the sin, even lying to the police, it was forgiven.  Everything in the past and every sin in the future, all forgiven (Romans 8:38).

The class was over and Jenny and I walked to the auditorium for the church service.  If that was Sunday school, what would the church service be like?  I went and afterwards I told Jenny that now I understood; now I knew.  Now, at long, long last I knew I was saved and going to heaven.

My next stop was to get to a phone and tell Mom that I'd found what we were looking for, the truth and the truth was all in one word - grace.  I couldn't wait.   

Dr. Mike Halsey, Pastor

*The plumber's method of teaching is what educators call "inductive."  It's an exciting way to teach and learn.

For more information about our church or comments on this web site, please contact webmaster@countylinechurch.com.

Copyright © 2008, County Line Congregational Christian Church