On Sunday, 7/13/08, we went to the wrong church.
We were supposed to meet the people from Bogue Chitto (bok chitto) Baptist church at another church, Hope Baptist, for a hymn sing and dinner. After waiting at Hope Baptist for over an hour, I called Bogue Chitto’s pastor, Charles Henry, and asked him if we were at the wrong church. I told him we were at Hope Baptist and he said, “Hope Indian Baptist?” Apparently, there are two different Hope Baptist churches, both with the same name but with entirely different clientele. Who knew? So, we had the afternoon free and decided to do some prayer walking and door to door in the neighborhood behind Green Hill (the Methodist mission we were staying at). We divided into groups; one group stayed behind to pray for us, while the other groups went into the neighborhood.
Here’s the story of what happened to Jacob and his group:
We (Cohen, Jeff, Jacob) were on a prayer walk and getting to know people and see if they had anything we could pray for. We said to this one guy, “We were wondering if you had anything we could pray about.” He said, “We’re’ busy in the garden,” and he started to turn around to go away. And Jeff said, what are you doing?” and he said “Picking peas.” And we asked him if we could help.” He said OK. So we picked peas for about a half hour. We filled about two five gallon buckets. They were purple One more thing happened as a result of their willingness to pick peas; read here to find out.
*OK, OK, I sit corrected. I’m not a city boy so much as a Yankee, which, I guess, is just as bad to some people.
