Discipleship 101 The Battle of Wills For false Christs and false prophets will rise and show great signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect. Matthew 24: 24 NKJV Two thousand years ago, a series of events took place that radic

Discipleship 101

The Battle of WillsBy R. J. Bartholomew

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 R. J. Bartholomew
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-0834-2

Contents

Introduction:............................................................................vChapter 1: Train up a child .............................................................1Chapter 2: So they won't stray ..........................................................7Chapter 3: Close encounter of the third kind.............................................13Chapter 4: In the beginning, God???......................................................19Chapter 5: Religious Extremism, Superstitions, Vain Imaginations.........................27Chapter 6: Some Martyrs of the faith.....................................................39Chapter 7: A Disciple called Peter.......................................................45Chapter 8: Transformation Theology, Transformed Lives or Proselytes?.....................53Chapter 9: Sanctification, set apart for sacred use......................................61Chapter 10: Review and closing...........................................................67References:..............................................................................73

Chapter One

Train up a child ...

I don't like the idea of saying much about myself however it seems needful to give you some background. After all, most of what we learn comes from our own personal experiences and observations especially those learned in childhood.

I was born in 1940 in a tiny village in central PA called Seven Points. There was a one-room schoolhouse at one end of the village and a place of higher learning (a church) at the other end. Both still stand today although the schoolhouse is no longer used as such. We lived in a dilapidated rented farmhouse on the outskirts of the village. It had no electricity or running water and disappeared many years ago. My younger brother Frank was born some nineteen months later though I don't remember his entrance. He was the seventh child in our growing family that eventually grew to eight.

Of course, I didn't know there was a war going on nor did I know that the nation had come through a depression not many years before. We were a church going family. We were Lutherans whatever that meant. And we were dirt poor but I didn't know that either. Somewhere about the age of two we moved to another farmhouse owned by my Mom's father who lived on the adjoining farm. Like the place we'd just moved from, our new home had no electricity or running water. Since I didn't know what those were I naturally didn't miss them.

When I was about five years old, Dad and Mom bought a small house with four acres of land. We finally had something that was ours. We owned it! Though it's hard to describe, there was a decidedly new sense of freedom. I didn't realize it at the time but we even had electricity. Eventually, we even got an indoor bathroom. No more Saturday night baths in the old washtub. I guess it must have seemed rather crowded to some what with four brothers and three sisters. Our Mom and Dad occupied the only bedroom. My three older brothers slept in the unheated sun-porch. And my sisters and younger brother and I slept in the attached garage. Although the house has seen many renovations since, it was home for many years until I enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1960.

For the most part, I thoroughly enjoyed those childhood experiences. I wouldn't trade them for the world. One of the things that sticks in my mind from early childhood had to do with church. I was about five or six at the time. The preacher must have preached a pretty good sermon that day. Maybe I was just listening pretty good for a change. Whichever the case, I remember sitting there in church feeling real close to Jesus. It was like He knew me and cared about me even though I wasn't always the best behaved kid most of the time. For some brief moments He was like a hero to me along with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny of course. I guess when I learned that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny didn't really exist, my little mind figured this Jesus fellow fell into the same category.

As with many kids back then, I started earning my own money about the age of ten. Whether it was picking beans for the local cannery or delivering newspapers or working on local farms the opportunities seemed endless. And at twenty-five cents an hour I was able to buy my own school-clothes as well as other stuff. The first seeds of independence were taking root. I can't help but feel sorry for many kids today who aren't taught to fend on their own.

Eventually, that quest for financial independence resulted in a real `business' venture for my brother Frank and I, or so it seemed. We were somewhere around twelve and thirteen at the time. We hatched the idea of putting an empty chicken house to use. The plan was to buy some chickens so that we could sell eggs and when they stopped laying eggs we'd sell the chickens to the local poultry plant. We talked it over with Dad and got his approval with the understanding that we were entirely responsible for the project. First we made some necessary repairs and then measured the footage of the chicken house to determine how many chicks we could accommodate. We then scoured the farm literature looking for a breed of chicken that was known for good egg production as well as meat. With little difficulty we found one and ordered two hundred chicks, all hens of course. Needless to say it was a lot of work but we didn't mind that too much. The problem arose when we ran out of money before the chickens began producing eggs. Luckily, we had a banker (Dad) who understood our situation and was willing to float us a loan until we had our own cash flow. Eventually the eggs started coming and we not only were able to pay Dad back. We had enough cash for continuing operations and some spending cash as well. We just had to be careful not to get the two mixed.

Life wasn't all work and no play back then by any means. We had plenty of time for other activities and spent little time in the house. And there was the usual social networking but we didn't call it that back then. Besides school and sports there was junior choir and boy scouts and church catechism and such other stuff. I don't want to give you the impression that we were model kids. We got into our share of trouble from time to time but nothing serious.

By the time fall rolled around, we were acutely aware of the amount of feed two hundred chickens can consume. To help lower the cost, we seized the opportunity to glean some local corn fields. By the time the snow got too deep to continue gleaning we had accumulated thirty bushel or so. Not having a corncrib or other suitable storage, we found a way to make do or so we thought. We stored as much as we could in fifty five gallon barrels and the rest in wooden crates. When the weather warmed up we made an interesting discovery. The corn in the barrels stored fine as did most of the rest of it. That is, until the weather warmed up and we got to the bottom of one of the large wooden crates. A considerable amount of moisture had gotten in and found its way to the bottom.

As you may have guessed, the loose kernels had started to ferment. Actually, they were well into the fermentation process. Not wanting to be wasteful, we scooped out the fermented corn and placed a pile of it on the floor to see how the chickens would react. To our surprise, they seemed to like it. Pecking orders being what they are only a few got their fill. It didn't take long...