Being Discovered

 My Story #50
Ronnie W. Wolfe

From the time that I was seven years old and first began to play piano on my own, learning from simply experimenting on the keyboard and from others' dropping a hint my way from time to time, I could not easily stay away from any keyboard that was around anywhere. Every time I saw a keyboard, whether it were in a story, in someone's house, or especially in a church auditorium, I just could not stay away from it.

When I first went to Lexington, Kentucky, and began to attend Ashland Avenue Baptist Church, the church doors were open all the time, day and night. As a result, I would go there from time to time, enter the building and go back to one of the Sunday School classes (or wherever I could find a piano) and began to practice.

Once, while I was practicing in Judge Adam's classroom, Bob Jones entered the room and had not heard me play the piano before. He listened for a little while and then approached me to see if I would play for a singing group. I told him that "I do not play that kind of music." Then he asked me if I would just practice with them. I said I would, and a time was set. The end of this story is that I have been practicing with a singing group ever since. This began our version of the Blue Grass Boys.

 

Preaching Up A Storm

 

My Story #49

Ronnie W. Wolfe

When I was still in my 20's, I was asked to preach in a small country church in Pendleton County, Kentucky, at a revival meeting. I remember that in the middle of that afternoon I went into an old country barn and prayed that the Lord would give me a good message to preach to the church that evening.

As I looked through my Bible, I came upon Luke Chapter 5 where the Lord went out a little from the land and sat down in the boat and taught the people out of the ship. I took no notes, but I thought hard and prayed hard that God would give me words to say, and he did.

While I was preaching that evening, a great storm came up around the church house; there was lightning and thunder. The rain came down hard. The harder the thunder cracked, the louder I preached.

After the service, my cousin came running down the isle and was about to hug me from her excitement of hearing me preach for her first time. She ran and grabbed me and pushed me down. Then she fell down on top of me. It would have been very embarrassing if it had not been so funny. She said, "Boy, you really preached up a storm tonight." I guess she was right about that.

 

Of All Of These

Ronnie W. Wolfe – © September 9, 2021

Of all the sermons that I have preached,
Of all the words that I have sung,
Of all the languages I could speak,
Or in my mother tongue,

There never was a word could say
What needs to flow from me
To tell how much the love of God
So surely set me free.

Of all the books that all men wrote
And dictionaries filled
With words of no ordinary speech,
And meaning there fulfilled,

They would not meet the need divine,
Express my every praise,
For everything my Lord has done
Through everlasting days.

There is no earthly language here,
Though poets hard express,
That meets the need for heav’nly love
Our lonely hearts to bless.

Though prayers are prayed with deepest want
To give God heav’nly due,
Each prayer in life falls weary short
When we tell the Lord “a-deu”

Amen to all the words worked out
To try to give God praise,
Though weak and weary our longing words,
His blessings he relays.

Living In That New Land

 

Ronnie W. Wolfe – 9-8-2021

When this body deceased lies in state
And when the grave and bier lie cold,
My hope remains in Christ my Lord;
My heart will not grow old.

I’m waiting for the final call
For my body to come home
To rise from this my dead, cold grave;
But I’ll not go alone.

For Christ shall come with trumpet sound
To raise my body here
To take it to a bright, new place
Be with my Savior Dear.

I’ll have a body just like his,
No vanities in my hand.
I’ll sing and praise the God of heaven
Living in that new land.

 

 My Story #48

Pastor Ronnie Wolfe

My First Public Prayer

I suppose I was somewhere around 14 years old when, for the first time, the pastor of our church called on me to pray at church. I had often thought what I would do if asked to pray in public, but I never once thought that I would be asked at my young age.

A million thoughts went through my head as I wondered what I would say when talking to my Lord in the presence of other people. I had never done that before except for a prayer of thanks at a meal.

In my shock, I quickly thought that it does not matter about the people around me but that I was to talk to the Lord about our worship to him in the Lord's house and a few other things.

As I bowed my head, with all heads bowed and eyes closed, I began to speak to the Lord, forgetting about the people around me. I actually enjoyed my short talk with the Lord, and I remember saying "In Jesus' name, Amen."

That was the first time. When I got home, in the afternoon I began to think about what had happened. Then I thought, "So, this is how it begins."

Every boy/man who prays in public had to start the same way. The first time is paramount, but the prayers come easier. I just hope that, after we have become accustomed to praying aloud, we do not take it for granted and just say words rather than to actually talk to the Lord.

We need prayer, both private and public, but we need for those prayers to be fervent prayer to God, not just a public, mundane bunch of words to please the crowd or simply to do a job.

 

My First Car

 My Story #47

Ronnie W. Wolfe   9-1-2021

My First Car

I left home at 17 years old after graduating from high school. I attended Fugazzi Business College at first. I had no car, so I had to walk to and from school and to church and other places in Lexington, Kentucky.

After graduating business school, I had to get a job and work until I could get enough money together to purchase a car. That took a while, as I continued to walk everywhere. My first job was at First Security National Bank in downtown Lexington. The bank extended me a loan to purchase my first car.

I remember going to a car lot to pick out a used car. I saw this beautiful 1956 Chevy Bel Aire for $399.00. I had fallen in love with one of these by seeing one that my cousin had, and I decided then that, if possible, I would one day own one. Hers was a brand new one, but mine was a few years old (about 7 years old). I bought mine in 1963. My payments were approximately $33.00 per month, and I made somewhere around $40.00-$45.00 per week working; so it took most of one-week's pay check to make the payment. Then I had to pay the insurance.

Then there was the work of getting a driver's permit, driving with a licensed driver for a couple of weeks, then going downtown to take my driver's test.

But, before I could do that, I had to have a hand control for my car. So, I drew one out on a piece of paper and took the drawing to a machine shop, and the shop built what I designed (with a little help from them in the design), and they installed the control on the car. Then they drove the car to my house and parked it there.

After obtaining my driver's permit, I needed a licensed driver to be with me in the car as I learned to drive. A 16-year-old boy lived across the street, and he had just received his driver's license that week. I asked him if he would like to go for a drive, and he agreed. He got in the car with me, and I went directly downtown in the middle of town to begin my driver training.

I actually did not kill anyone or have a wreck, because my landlady said, "All you have to do is to stay between the lines." This was very helpful.

When I took my driver's license, the policeman who was in the car with me asked me if I had power brakes and steering, and I said, "No." He said, "Well, I don't know about this." As we went through about a half-hour test right downtown, he said, "This beats all I have ever seen. If you don't have a wreck between here and the courthouse, you have your license." I have been driving ever since. Whew! Thank the Lord.