Kassiquan

The “Soup” of Faith

I love to make my own Chicken Noodle Soup.  A good family friend who shares an apartment with me loves the way I make my Chicken Noodle Soup; especially when he is fighting a bad cold.  He would rather eat my soup than purchase one at the local Chinese Take-out.  What is so special about my Chicken Noodle Soup?  It’s really not that special; just the way that it is made.  I buy two chicken breasts; bone in.  After rinsing the breasts off and use my fingers to peel as much chicken off the bones as possible without breaking the bones.  I do not throw the bones out but put them aside while I cut up the breast meat.  I place the meat and the bones in pot with about two and one half quarts of water and bring to boil.  I put in a forth cup of chopped garlic, a table spoon of Italian spice, two table spoons of  parsley and oregano, and salt lightly to taste..  I then add a handful of spaghetti, split in half.  I prefer to use Fettuccine or Elbow Macaroni. I add one large red onion cut into pieces, two large Idaho potatoes, diced in large pieces and some sliced carrots and wait until potatoes and pasta are firm; not limp.  I will add half a cup of water while the soup cooks to maintain the level of the soup until done.  Leaving the bones of the chicken breast to boil in the pot just enhances the flavor of the chicken in the soup – Delicious!  The way I make my Chicken Noodle Soup reminds me a bit of the development of my own faith; from where I began to where I am now.

I was five years old when I first heard about Jesus, born in Bethlehem, his ministry, his death and resurrection via flannel graph board characters when my brother and I went to Sunday school at the Second Street Chapel; a mission outreach of the Beacon Presbyterian Church.  My brother and I never went to a church service then; just Sunday school. 3:00 on Sunday afternoons, we hopped into a green sedan, driven by Fred Edelman.  Fred’s wife, Nellie and her sister Peggy Wentzel, her close friend Renee and Florence Fisher were the first “missionaries” of the Chapel we met.  After Sunday school, Nellie would close in prayer asking that we children ask Jesus to come into our hearts be our Savior.  I would imagine taking the hand of Jesus as we walked through green fields; a “Garden of Eden” that left me feeling safe, secure and loved.  Ah, you might know why if you have been reading my posts; I lived with an abusive father who did not do what I imagined Jesus would do.  I could not wait to get to heaven, Jesus was my Savior.

I was thirteen when I was finally introduced to what it what like going to church.  A neighbor woman, Ana was taking my sister to church with her with my father’s permission.  Eventually, when Ana heard that my brother and I were not baptized, she persuaded my father to allow her to take us with her to church.  What Ana told my father, as I found out later; it was to keep his “children out of purgatory.”  Since I still did not understand what “church” was about my father gave her permission; we went to with Ana to St. Peter’s Roman Catholic Church.  I learned quite a bit in Catechism classes.  We were baptized, we made our First Communion (I still have my certificate); we made our confirmation (the Bishop “slaps” your cheeks as a sign of receiving the Holy Spirit) and I chose my Confirmation Saint name, Joseph; the earthly father of Jesus.  Why did I choose Joseph?  As you can imagine and if you understand how I think, Joseph was a good foster (or step) father who accepted Mary knowing that Jesus was not his child; a great father figure.  What I loved about the Catholic Church is that worship was reverent; quiet and pensive.  I found it peaceful to be in God’s presence.  In Catechism, I did not want to “sin” so I stopped going to the Chapel, went to Confession, and repeated all kinds of rote prayers and not miss Church.  I even sat in the front of the church dragging my brother and sister reluctantly with me.  I even practice saying the Eucharist because I wanted to be priest.  However, I started to read the Bible for myself I requested from Teen Challenge.  The teachings of the Catholic Church and their interpretation of the Bible did not make sense to me as a teenager and I began to have questions.

I am seventeen and I met Sonia who moved in the apartment above our garage my father rented.  Sonia was Pentecostal; always wore black with her hair out looking like a witch.  Through the walls of our building, I could hear her praying, crying and mumbling; I stayed away.  While waiting for her van ride, Sonia walked over to me as I sat on our front step.  I think I was reading my Teen Challenge Bible because I had just started to listen to Robert A Cook on the Radio, The King’s Hour.  Sonia asked me about my salvation and I told her I was saved.  She asked if I was familiar with the Rapture.  “What is that?”  Sonia gave me Gospel tracks to read and comic books by Chick Publications.  I started to remember my Sunday school days.  I read the Bible cover to cover and the Rapture was new to me.  In my senior year in high school, I bought a Bible with notes at a local Christian book store and started to carry it back and forth to school to read during free periods; I had two friends who joined me.  I stopped going to the Catholic Church and went back to the Chapel where I was welcomed back.  I dedicated my life to Christ during my senior year.  I went with Sonia to her church.  The singing I loved, the “babel” and the “jumping” up and down I did not understand and I was uncomfortable.  The “babel” was “speaking in tongues,” which I later experienced when I was 22 but not in the manner as I witnessed in the Pentecostal church.  I did not go with Sonia again to her church; not for me.  I stayed with the Chapel which then I discovered it was Presbyterian.

I was 22 years old.  I still went to the Chapel and was attending worship services and Sunday school.  Fred and Nellie had long passed away.  Renee had passed away, too.  Peggy and Florence were still at the Chapel and George Ralph Korn, the lay pastor and his wife Ruth were there.  My sister and I started to sing in harmony Christian songs I wrote would play on my guitar each Sunday for special music.  The Chapel is where I grew to know more of the Bible and the Rapture.  We had Tuesday night Bible studies at the Chapel led Ralph.  Ralph and Ruth Korn were not Presbyterians; they attended Grace Bible Church.  I had gone to Bible College but stopped (read Why Social Work, my previous blog).  Chapel was Sunday afternoon’s and one Friday evening invited to go to the Messiah Mission, directed by Brother Garfield.  The Messiah Mission was an extension of the Assembly of God Church.  It was a mission for saved Jews (not Jews for Jesus) who accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior, the Messiah.  I started to go on Friday nights with my mother and sister who had been going.  I also experienced going to a Jewish Temple, not a Synagogue but it was church worship.  The only difference is the congregation was able to get up out of their sits and dance in a circle in front as they sang the Psalms of David.  I loved it.  Later, Brother Garfield invited me to join their singing group after hearing that I sang and played guitar.  I began to travel locally with the group to various Assembly of God churches in Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia, anywhere that would be a day trip (I had to work the next day).  I really enjoyed the singing ministry and learned a lot of Hebrew songs.  It was through the Mission that I was re-baptized by emersion; went to a week-long youth camp at which I first experienced “speaking in tongues.”  It was not “babel” or “la, la, la’s” as I had often heard from others.  My speaking was if I was really talking to someone, a private conversation and I felt as if the flood gates of my soul were being poured out.  Let me explain how this all started.

Summer of 1980 at the Assembly of God Youth Camp was great from Monday to Wednesday night.  I spoke to the Evangelist, Alton Garrison that night because some of his messages were touching my heart and I really felt prompted to talk to him.  I needed to share with him life with my abusive father (I did not live at home then) and now my sister, still in high school was expecting a baby out of wedlock; my father did not know and we were all fearful of telling him.  Alton heard me, prayed for me and the family and told me that I would need the power of the Holy Spirit which would be his message the next night.  Alton requested that be the first in line when he made the altar call for those to be baptized in the Spirit.  I promised I would and I did.  Alton laid his hands on my forehead and prayed and I was led away by a counselor to a corner and I started to pray; “Abba…” and the tears came like the dam had burst and the language just spilled forth from my mouth.  Deep in my spirit I knew I was alone with God, my heart being poured out and my soul speaking.  That December, I went with my sister to see my father, I was at peace (my mother and father had been separated) and my sister told him her story.  We left my father’s place thankful to God for his intervention and preparing the way.  My sister’s son was born in January and my father was happy for a grandson.

I am in my mid-thirties, the Chapel Closed for good; the Messiah Mission closed (Brother Garfield retired after his wife passed) and I was going to go to Norris Square Presbyterian Church.  I became involved in youth ministry, assisted in planning youth retreats and wrote a theme song for one of them, I’ve Got Power.  The theme that weekend was Power in God.  My pastor, Rev. William H Gage became my mentor and spiritual father and I witnessed his own journey of faith; faith in action who was involved with the community and the people of the community loved him.  Rev. Gage was a down to earth man who connected with the community and he was the one who encouraged me to follow God’s leading; I went back to Bible College and I saw a ministry that was for me; Social Work on a Biblical foundation (See, Why Social Work).

Now that I am older, I have experienced attendance at quite a few worship services at a variety of denominations; mainline and non-denominational throughout my faith journey.  Church, the true meaning of church is from the Greek word ekklesia, “a called-out assembly or congregation.”  Literally, it is a group of people that have gathered together to share in a common interest or goal.  Today, we use the word ‘”church” to represent a building where people gather to worship.  In the book of the Acts of the Apostles, Paul writes to various “churches” in Asia, a group of believers that gathered in people’s homes, not buildings.  I like this idea; a spiritual “family” having the same mind as Christ; sort of like my Chicken Noodle Soup, just a few ingredients that defines my soup that makes it unique.  I would like to think that I am unique, too.  I am a believer who started out as a child entering a life of faith.  I do not see myself as a believer holding on to the teachings of any one particular church or denomination but I have taken to heart pieces of what I saw good in all the worship services I attended; ingredients in my soup of faith.  The foundation for my faith is Christ.  Christ did not show us a religion, a church, or a denomination or spoke theologically.  Christ spoke and showed us a way of life and how we should live with one another.  Christ said the two greatest commandments are to love God with your whole being and to love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:37-40).  Christ’s ministry was to do for others as you would have them do for you; he healed and forgave (Matthew 7:12).  Christ showed us what God requires, to do justly, love mercy and to walk humbly before God – a way of life.  Enjoy my soup!