Corsicana —
I grew up in Corsicana and did not travel more than a hundred miles from home before high school. My first trip to a “foreign country” was across the Red River into Oklahoma. But, when I was 18, God called me into the ministry and that changed everything. I knew when I accepted that call that Christians were to bear witness of Christ to the uttermost parts of the earth. I had no idea that God meant for me to go there.
He first took me to regions of the United States that I had only read about: to the boundless beauty of the Northwest, the plains of Indiana, the urban centers and rocky coasts of the Northeast. I even lived in Minnesota for eight years where I learned how to survive brutal winters and celebrate summers. I discovered the immense pleasure of sweet corn, though I never learned to eat lutefisk.
I was introduced to poverty in Matamoras, Mexico that seemed to pale beside the favelas of Brazil. I visited orphanages in Guatemala and saw volcanoes with lush forests. While conducting church planting conferences in Australia, I toured Sydney’s Botanay Bay, woke to the sound of a laughing kookaburra outside Melbourne and napped on the grass at King’s Park in Perth, then witnessed the crashing surf at Auckland, New Zealand. In Moscow, I stood outside the Kremlin and toured Lenin’s tomb after working on a partnership with Siberian Christians. We met with Christians from around the world in Prague and visited Bethlehem Chapel where John Hus preached in 1402. In Egypt, I stood in awe at the foot of the same pyramids that were once seen by Abraham and explored the catacombs of Alexandria where Christians took refuge in the first centuries. I met with NGOs in Aceh, Indonesia after the 2004 tsunami and woke each morning to the Islamic call to prayer. This summer I am in Nuremberg, Germany serving as pastor of a new English speaking church with more than a dozen nationalities represented.
Along the way I learned that God loves different cultures and different people. He loves the red, brown, yellow, black and white. He loves long hair and short. He loves the sound of different music and different languages. Like His creation with all of its multifaceted mysteries, he loves the diversity within the human race.
I learned that when I am in a different culture I see myself differently, and I see God in ways I would have never seen Him. I learned that there is no greater adventure than to follow Him to the ends of the earth to share the message that He has revealed Himself in His Son, Jesus who takes away the sin of the world. I am filled with awe, wonder and amazement at the journey that started, for me, with a very small step in a small town in Texas.
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Bill Tinsley is a 1965 graduate of CHS. He reflects on current events and life experience from a faith perspective. Visit www.tinsleycenter.com. He may be reached by email at bill@tinsleycenter.com. Want to “Soundoff” on this column? Email: soundoff@corsicanadailysun.com
Opinion
To the ends of the earth
- Opinion
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‘O My Soul’
Whatever happened to the concept of the soul? All our conversation, it seems, revolves around our bodies and money: how we look, how to stay healthy, how to remain young, how to become wealthy.
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No ifs, ands, or butts
Having hindsight in the little New Jersey resort town of Wildwood will soon be a civic offense punishable by a $25 fine.
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Bits and pieces from all over
I’m all for taking the quickest route from “Point A” to “Point B” as much as the next guy.
I guess it’s just human nature to want to get to where you are going as quickly and efficiently as you can so you can get on with your life.
There have to be some limits to that, though. -
Father’s Day dilemma
What to get my father for Father’s Day is one of those no-win situations, like nuclear war or when you’re eating something someone worked really hard to cook but it’s awful. Lie and they poison their own family. Tell the truth and you’re an insensitive jerk. You’re toast, either way.
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My Daddy, My Hero
A dad is a little girl’s first hero. I realize not everyone is fortunate enough to have a father in the picture from birth, but for those who do, he can be a giant.
I write this on Flag Day, June 14, Friday, which marks four years since my Daddy departed his earthly body and went to reside with his Savior. I miss him. Strangely, his own father, Fred. E. “Bud” Brown also passed away on this date in 1985.
Those two men were my heroes. -
It makes no sense
There are a lot of things I see or hear of every day that make no sense to me. At the top of my list is our criminal justice system. At this point, I could go into a rant about lawyers but I won’t — I’ve got too much class to tell lawyer jokes. Well, maybe just one?
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Its a ‘baby thing’
I guess every birth is as unique as the child it produces.
After having inductions at 38 weeks (with NO epidural) myself, I was unprepared for the “going into labor on your own” avenue of childbearing. (For anyone not familiar, I’m discussing grandchildren here.) -
Real world issue
Our Janet Jacobs has a story in today’s paper about the early work on the City of Corsicana 2013-14 budget, and some of the challenges they are facing in the coming year.
I feel quite certain that we all can “relate” to that — it’s a battle the working folk in this city, and hundreds of other cities across the nation, have been fighting for some time now. -
Teachable moments
A few summers ago, my wife and I had the privilege of keeping our grandchildren for a few weeks in Montana. They were 8, 10 and 11. We normally saw them for a few days two or three times a year. I felt like Santa Claus, showering them with presents at Christmas, but not part of their daily lives.
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Storm warnings
This will be the first time The Little Woman (she dislikes that name) and I will have spent an entire hurricane season here on the Gulf Coast. Predictions range from “It’s just another year in paradise” to “you may not have to wait until Christmas to have a tree in your house!”
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