Speaking of TRAIN-RELATED BLESSINGS FROM GOD ...

Posted : 20 Mar, 2012 09:51 AM

... here is an article that my heart and spirit were blessed to read with the Holy Spirit this morning in Charles Stanley's IN TOUCH devotional magazine and on his IN TOUCH website all about the joy and blessing of being mentored in learning about God and growing in your relationship with Him through studying His Word and coming to understand what you've been studying by a cherished friend and brother in Christ who shares with you a LOVE of trains too!!! :dancingp::hearts::yay:



I knew immediately in my heart and spirit after reading about this precious train-loving brother in Christ and the inspiration and encouraging he gave (and his story still gives) to others, that the Holy Spirit wanted me to post it here to be a blessing, encouragement and inspiration to your heart and spirit too ... so here it is.



Love,

Steve



ON THE RIGHT TRACK



Tribute to a lifelong mentor



By Sandy Feit



It felt strange driving to the other side of town to see Fred. But then we spotted the metal train silhouette on the lamppost and knew we were �home.�



My husband Elliot and I had moved from Rhode Island seven years earlier, and in the interim, physical limitations had forced the Richardsons to trade their West Barrington farmhouse for a one-story home near the inlet to Hundred Acre Cove. As our mentors and cherished friends for a quarter century, Penny and Fred invested so much time, energy, and love in us that we came to think of them as spiritual Mom and Dad. So when we got word in early 2007 that Fred was in failing health, we flew up from Atlanta�as it turns out, just a month before he died�for a weekend visit and �final class.�



Over those two days and many times since, Elliot and I reflected on the profound impact of this godly couple. They�d welcomed us�two total strangers�into their family and dedicated themselves to growing us in the Word. And now I can�t think of a single aspect of our life that remains unaffected.



Not only has our thinking changed, but evidence of their perspective crops up in our kids. And grandkids. Also the occasional coworker. (Perhaps even a magazine reader.)



I still remember the first time we drove to their house. Barrington was off our beaten path and a full half-hour away (quite the commitment for native Rhode Islanders). I was a new believer, but Elliot was even newer�and even less sure about our purpose in coming. We saw ourselves as two Jewish kids who�d stumbled onto our Messiah and felt bewildered about what Christianity meant for our family, our routine, and the community we were certain to alienate. A friend thought Fred and Penny could help.



It was already dark when we located the white clapboard house on Third Street. We could make out a well-loved garden beyond the picket fence, but it would be five or six months before the lengthening daylight hours revealed the bay just two blocks down the road. Despite the charm of the setting, we were second-guessing why we�d hired a sitter and come out here instead of going to the movies.



Then the door opened, and within seconds, Elliot�s discomfort began to melt. No, it wasn�t the smell of warm sugar cookies that first caught his attention (though that didn�t hurt), but rather the 300-pound bronze locomotive bell sitting in the front hallway. My husband loves everything related to trains�steam engines, passenger cars, HO models, stories, itineraries . . . Fred, it turned out, had a lifelong passion for the railroad, plus a house full of memorabilia to prove it. So an instant bond formed between the two men, and moments later we discovered another connection: a shared wedding anniversary, though Fred and Penny had celebrated 29 more times than us.



We also learned that for years�long before �small groups� were in vogue�Fred had been leading a Monday night Bible study at home. I guess it was obvious we weren�t ready to be �mainstreamed,� as he suggested a weekly evening of our own. And it was probably fortunate words like discipleship and mentor never came up; as baby Christians, we were clueless that we needed those things and may have been put off by such foreign-sounding terms.



So we ended up naively saying yes to an amazing blessing: private lessons on life, using the �Owner�s manual� as textbook.



Starting Class



Thursday after Thursday, we found ourselves in the Richardsons� living room, warmed by the wood stove and surrounded by rail pictures, books, and lanterns. Though the view outside kept changing�falling snow, spring blossoms, reddening maple leaves�inside, the scene was predictable. Penny always chose the seat nearest the kitchen so she could answer the phone or set out fresh-baked cookies; Elliot and I were in �our� upholstered chairs facing Fred in his stately leather one. On every lap was an open Bible, usually with three or four fingers holding places to return to after hunting answers to our many questions.



I was fascinated by Fred�s Bible, not to mention motivated by it. Mine was about 15 years old and still pristine (except for the dust), but his was well worn and had handwritten notes, it seemed, on every page. That in itself was a curiosity for me, who hesitated to mark even a phonebook. But more importantly, I soon realized that his notes weren�t just reminders for the next time he read those passages. Rather, Fred was so familiar with this book and what it meant that God�s Word had become part of who he was and informed everything he did.



So I stopped at the Salvation Army and spent 50 cents on a Bible I wouldn�t mind writing in. Then each Thursday, I�d jot notes in the margins while Fred taught, quizzed, and pounded us with what I call �Fredisms,� sayings he�d repeat to burn truth into our thinking. For instance, using the principles of 1 John 1:9 and Psalm 66:18, he made a federal case (his words) about confessing sin so we�d be in fellowship and God would hear our prayers: �The cleansed vessel is filled with the Spirit,� he would say�in fact, so often and with such authority that I assumed it was a scripture and even searched a concordance to see which book he was quoting.



Fred and Penny�s influence ultimately affected, I want to say everything. It wasn�t that our lives back then had such glaring deficiencies�at least, not from the world�s standpoint. But we used to be plagued by worry and other preoccupations incompatible with true contentment. Though it took a while, the verses and principles Fred drummed into us gradually took root, and our thinking started to veer in a healthier direction.



In time, we transitioned to the Monday group and enjoyed watching Fred quiz and coax others with the same techniques he used on us. He was like a baseball coach, drilling the team to build understanding, strengthen faith �muscles,� and improve response time. Eventually, other pursuits prevented regular attendance, but we�d still stop in now and then for a �refresher.� And when life, as it often does, would toss us a curve ball, Fred was the one we�d call for advice.



In the fall of 1992, we were rather shaken to learn that on the flight home from vacation, our teacher had suffered a heart attack and was in the coronary care unit of some Midwestern hospital. We didn�t like how groggy he sounded once we finally got through to his room phone, but when I said I�d pray for him, his answer was vintage Fred: �Make sure you�re in fellowship!�



Fortunately, he recovered well, and we got to enjoy seven more years of visits and church encounters until a job change moved us to Atlanta. The phone was our connection then�and whenever we�d call for wisdom or a friendly voice, we�d come away encouraged and armed with verses, Fredisms, and confidence to deal with any current challenge.



The Final Lesson



So in 2007 on that still-wintry March day, we rang the bell at the new Richardson house and braced for a bittersweet goodbye. But when the door opened, once again any trace of uneasiness vanished, and it was just plain good to be together. Other than using the den as a schoolroom and Fred conducting class from a recliner, things were pretty much the same as always: Penny was in the chair closest to the kitchen, and Fred, his mind and teaching skill sharp as ever, had us open our Bibles.



Actually, something else was different. When he saw me sharing Elliot�s Bible, Fred leaned over and handed me his own�the King James one with the dog-eared pages and profuse handwritten notes. While he found himself another copy, I gasped silently, taken aback at the implication. Like Elisha receiving Elijah�s mantle, I sensed the message, �You�re ready.�



We covered a lot of ground that day. But there was one topic Fred wanted to make sure was ingrained before Elliot and I �graduated�: Understanding�the Key to Bible Study. As we turned to Nehemiah 8, the sun, in what I like to think of as divine approval, momentarily broke through the heavy gray cloud cover and lit up the page.



Verse 8 explained that a crowd had gathered to listen as their leaders �read in the book in the law of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the reading.� Then Fred did the same for us: �That�s what all Bible teaching should be. It�s not enough to read or memorize. Until you understand, it doesn�t really mean anything. And you don�t understand it until you�re able to teach it to somebody else.�



Like all good teachers, ours welcomed questions, even at such a time as this.



Elliot: I have something to ask you.



Fred: Okay, shoot.



Elliot: It�s a very personal question. Is that okay?



Fred (): It�s okay to ask; we�ll see about answering.



Elliot: Do you have any fear or doubt about facing death?



Fred: No, I welcome death�it�s a promotion. �Precious in the sight of the Lord is . . .�



Sandy: � . . . the death of His saints.�



Fred: Good. Where do you find that?



Sandy: Uh, somewhere. Psalm 90?



Fred: No, 116:15. Death is a promotion.



Elliot: But the fear is how we die.



Fred: I don�t want to have a horrible death. Neither does anybody else. But it�s in the Lord�s hands.



Elliot: But no doubts, no fears?



Fred: Oh, zero. Absolutely zero. I can�t wait to die.



Elliot: I just pray I get to that point. I can�t say I�m at zero.



Fred: Why not?



Elliot: Why not? Because my faith needs to grow.



Fred: But what is the future in heaven for the believer? No more what? Sorrow.



Elliot: I know all the points.



Fred: But you don�t believe it.



Elliot: I do believe it.



Fred (): Then there should be no fear.



When we left, our hearts were, of course, heavy with the human reality of our parting. But as was always true of times with the Richardsons, we came away having experienced Jesus.



The call we dreaded came several weeks later. Though one can�t ever fully prepare for loss, having heard our mentor express eagerness for �promotion� helped us deal with his departure. And while I can�t say our doubts and fears have quite reached �zero,� we look forward to seeing Fred in heaven�perhaps even on a train. He did, after all, claim to find biblical evidence for one. Hold a finger there, and turn to Isaiah 6:1...



Copyright 2012 In Touch Ministries, Inc. All rights reserved. www.intouch.org. In Touch grants permission to print for personal use only.

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