After church that evening at home, I really thought about what I had seen, how so many of the church members seemed to be bored and anxious to leave. Even though it was kind of funny at the time seeing so many people goof off, it was really kind of sad. At least I felt sad thinking about it. All the people in our congregation went to church every Sunday because they needed God. But there definitely was something lacking—they weren’t getting what they had come for. Something was lacking from the sermon because the people weren’t paying attention to it. If it was exciting and vital, the people would hang on every word. Surely there must be a better way. People falling asleep, playing games and whispering during sermons just couldn’t be all there was to church-going and Christianity. But then I thought, what was Christianity really all about anyway? I felt there was a deeper meaning than what I’d been experiencing every Sunday. I wanted to find out more.
I knew Jesus taught us things, not just at church but in our daily lives. Look at the example He gave us. He died on the cross for my sins for which I am ever thankful. And He rose from the dead to be with God and He will stay with God until He returns for the believers during the rapture.
Our pastor was a good man. He taught us to treat others fairly and with kindness. Pastor Shelton taught the congregation about Jesus and stressed that we should know that Jesus is always with us! Those words were good and the messages were told with conviction and great feeling. However, that’s pretty much what he said during every Sunday sermon. Those are all good things to hear and learn and take to heart. But surely there are more things that Christians need to learn and should be applying to their daily lives—to treat each other fairly, to put in an honest day’s work at their jobs or at school. Getting messages like these across would be a way to spread the goodness of the Lord.
How would we learn that there were more things that we Christians should know and make part of our daily lives if our Pastor doesn’t stress them and repeats the same basic things during every church sermon? And, I am here to tell you that Pastor Shelton did exactly that—voiced the same words and had the same message each and every Sunday. I knew his sermons so well, I could have filled in for him.
Wasn’t it time that he moved the congregation on to a closer and personal relationship with the Lord? The only way any of us could grow closer to Jesus was to know Him better. That was what was missing at the Tabernacle of Faith Church and missing from Pastor Shelton’s preaching.
The next morning, the doubts that I was beginning to have about our church still lingered in my thoughts. While I was enjoying my scrambled eggs and toast, I asked my mother, "Has Pastor Shelton ever killed a giant?"
My mother frowned and quickly replied, "Not that I know of, darling. Why on earth would you ask such a silly question?” She started clearing some of the dirty dishes from the table, giving me only half of her attention.
"Has he ever been in a den of lions?" I asked quickly without answering her question. I was persistent when something was nagging at me. And my mother knew me so well that she was no doubt certain that my mind was churning with something. She stopped clearing the dishes from the table, sat down across from me and gave me her full attention.
"Okay. What is on your mind, Aysha?"
"Why is Pastor Shelton the pastor? How did he get that job?" I asked.
Mother said, "Well, he is the pastor of our church because God chose him to lead us, to be our shepherd."
“But Mother, I remember hearing people say that the church board chose him.”
“Of course, dear, the board chose him years ago but they were led by God in making their decision.” My mother was getting a little perplexed. She became uncomfortable with the kind of conversation she had been suddenly drawn into. She always seemed reluctant to debate anything about our church or pastor. Leave it to me to lead her where she didn’t want to go!
I still didn’t understand exactly how a church board of people was the same as God choosing a pastor. "I still don’t get how God chose Pastor Shelton?"
The conversation had officially gone to a place that my mother would not. She stood up and gathered a few more dishes and changed the subject to more earthly matters.
"Aysha, our time for talking is running out. You have cleaning to do and so do I —we better get to it!"
My mother’s reaction revealed that she didn’t know how Pastor Shelton had been chosen by God any more than I did. I wasn’t about to call her on it. I respected her too much. She always tried to be a good Christian and her church had always been an important part of her life. But she never wanted to appear like she was questioning her church, her pastor or indeed God. I, myself, would never dream of questioning God but I could see reasons to question a congregation or a Pastor. After all, they are only people just like me. But not Mother and I understood and respected that. She was raised that way. I was, too, in a sense but, as Dad would tease me, I must have gotten the “big mouth” gene from some distant warrior.
But I should really tell you about my family life and the choices we made so you can understand why I was cleaning house with my mother instead of heading for school. My daily life was vastly different than most of the kids I knew.
During the week, my family’s day would follow the same routine and would go something like this: My dad, John Conora, as I said earlier, was as a building contractor. He was the owner and President of Conora Home Builders. He was proud of his company but had worked very hard over the years to establish it. He began with just a small start-up company that consisted of just him and two carpenters. But they did good work, were trustworthy and reliable and from that modest beginning, my dad was able to grow his business to the huge success it is today. My dad always had a busy day ahead of him, so he was up early to get ready to go off to work and was often home late due to the demands of the day.
My mother, Audrey Conora, stayed home to take care of me and help me with my school work. I’m an only child and I was blessed to have the attention of two loving and caring parents. I know that my mother gave up a lot – a career, lunches and outings with friends, material things – so that she could devote all her time and attention to me. My mother had been a school teacher, a job she loved but gave it up when I showed up. Like I said, I was a lucky girl!
So each day, after Dad left, it was me and my mother. First thing in the morning, we straightened and cleaned the house and did the laundry and ironing so we’d get that out of the way and clear the day for the fun stuff! But I really didn’t mind taking care of our house at all.
Our home was a large and beautiful house that Dad had built for us about seven years before. The house was located in a rural area about ten miles outside of the little sleepy town of Willow, North Carolina. Our church, The Tabernacle of Faith Church, was located in Willow. And, as a family, we went to Willow every Sunday to attend church. My mother and I were in Willow quite often during the week because that’s where we did most of our shopping and where we went to the dentist, doctor and had our hair cut. When we needed things or services that weren’t available in Willow, we traveled to Raleigh, a big city that was about an hour away and had everything you could ever need.
After lunch I did my school work. Oh, forgot to mention, I was home schooled, and I loved it! Of course, I had the added benefit that my mother was a former school teacher. But that had its ups and downs. Not that she “rapped me on the knuckles,” but my mother was quite a disciplinarian and kept my focus on my school work. She said I’d appreciate that someday. I’m sure I will but I have to admit I’d sometimes think she was being unfair when she wouldn’t let me watch TV while I was doing my math or English. If I snuck and had the TV on, she’d click it off and say, “Not in my classroom, missy!”
But back to my everyday life. When I’m finished with all my studies by late afternoon, I had time to relax and read, or watch TV (finally) or listen to the radio or the music on my iPod. I enjoyed the leisure time and spent a lot of it in my room. I loved my room. It was the kind of room all girls dreamed of. I had a cool day-bed with mounds of beautiful pillows in my favorite colors of aqua and yellow. My mother and I had fun picking out all the linens and curtains and other decor. Underneath the day-bed was a second bed that could swivel out which was perfect when I had sleepovers with my girlfriends.
But the most prized possession in my room was my sleek glass-top desk that was equipped with my lap top and printer and was positioned between two good-sized bookshelves. The shelves were stuffed with books. One of my favorite sayings was always “you can’t have too many books.” I had copies of a lot of the classics and, of course, a good number of school books but most of my books were Christian stories or books about Christianity. No surprise—Christianity was my favorite subject.
But, again, back to my daily routine. . . after my afternoon break would be over, around six o’clock or so, my mother and I would begin making dinner. Making dinner with my mother was a fun part of the day, too. My mother was a great cook and I was learning so much from her. She’d let me chop the vegetables – except the onions. When I tried to chop them, I’d cry so much that I wouldn’t be able to see! We had fun cooking together. It was a time for us to enjoy each other, work together and a great opportunity for me to learn a whole lot about cooking which would come in quite handy when I had my own family some day. Of course, that would be years away but learning how to cook had absolutely no downside for me. We started dinner kind of late because Dad was notorious for being late. When he called Mother and said he’d be home by six, we knew it would really turn out to be seven. One day when he called, I picked up the phone. He told me he’d be home at 6:30. He laughed when I said, “Okay, Dad, I guess that means dinner’s at eight!”
So, as you can see, the Conora family did not fall into a pattern that anyone would identify as the normal or average household. But we were happy with our non-conventional family life and we loved each other and enjoyed our lives together. Our family worked and played well together which is far more important than being average or normal any day of the week. If anyone would have inferred that our lifestyle was abnormal, I would have answered that the Conora family was not normal and proud of it!
