One of the things I am extremely thankful for is my church. Some of my best friends in the whole wide world are there. You know the ones that you just know will be shacked up next to you in Gloryland, but even if they aren't you would walk the span of heaven just to spend time with them. It touches my heart deeply when I think of all the tears shed and growing up in the Lord we have done side by side. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for them. They are often my lifeline to reality. Setting my thinking straight and blessing me with wisdom well beyond this earth. Its sharing life together honestly that we moved beyond the shadows cast on us by the evil one.. past all the pride and selfish ambitions.. to safety. That's what I feel. Safe. A safe place to worship my Savior as He made me. Golly it takes work, with a capital "W" to be in a safe place where freedom is celebrated, but the benefits far outweigh the squirming and flip flops your soul does in an effort to see the Truth as a community. It's a beautiful thing. Trust me.
- Born: July 29, 1866, Franklin, Kentucky.
- Chisholm was educated in a small country school, and became its teacher at age 16.
- At age 21, he became associate editor of the weekly newspaper, The Franklin Favorite.
- In 1893, he became a Christian under the ministry of Dr. Henry Clay Morrison
- Chisholm moved to Louisville at the persuasion of Morrison and became editor of the Pentecostal Herald.
- He was ordained a Methodist minister in 1903 and served a brief pastorate at Scottsville, Kentucky.
- In poor health, he moved his family to a farm near Winona Lake, Indiana.
- He became an insurance salesman, moving to Vineland, New Jersey, in 1916.
- He retired in 1953 to the Methodist Home for the Aged in Ocean Grove, New Jersey.
- Died: February 29, 1960, Ocean Grove, New Jersey.
He wasn't all that successful. He never held a high office. By the look of this list his ministry was brief even. You might not know him, but you know one of his famous poems that was put to music. It is the song that you often hum to yourself when you are so thankful for Him that words just don't seem like enough. Words that are wrote by a man who wasn't anything special in the eyes of the world. Words that give my soul a voice.