tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75402462466005938982024-03-27T16:53:15.661-07:00Wolfe-FriendsFriendly thoughts and studies from Scripture.Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.comBlogger593125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-16279811685856304732023-05-01T11:28:00.005-07:002023-05-01T11:28:49.975-07:00Story #119 -- UPDATE ON ME!<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #119</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">UPDATE ON ME!</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Progress is slow with me, as I endeavor to get up in a standing position and walk. Progress is progress, though. It is going to take a while for me to be able to get up and around on my own.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I had the great opportunity to preach on Sunday Evening on April 30. It was a good service, and the church observed The Lord's Supper in that service.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thanks for your prayers, thoughts, and cards. I really appreciate it. I have been visited by some folks whom I have not seen for years, and that is encouraging.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thanks, also, for those who have given money toward our effort to purchase a van with handicap features so I can get out and go on my own. This may take a while, also, because, as you know, vans are not cheap!</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I know that in all this the Lord is working. His Providence is precious to us as believers, and his promises are sure.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Pray for First Baptist Church as they work to call a pastor. This is never an easy job, and today the available field is small; but God knows, and our prayers should bring a man to lead the church in the direction of truth and the spread of the Gospel.</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-71380454281261590952023-04-06T16:29:00.003-07:002023-04-06T16:29:25.649-07:00My Story #116 -- Pastor Ronnie Wolfe RETIREMENT AND PLANS<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #116</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">RETIREMENT AND PLANS<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>Yes, I know this is not Monday, so just shut up about that. I did not get around to do Monday Mentions on Monday--Sorry.</p><p></p><p>I was pleased to preach at the church last Wednesday night. The Lord blessed, and I enjoyed preaching at the church again.</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-84261863668452117372023-03-13T15:38:00.002-07:002023-03-13T15:38:14.761-07:00My Story #114 Pastor Ronnie Wolfe RIDING IN THE BACK SEAT<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #114</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">RIDING IN THE BACK SEAT</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>Sometimes some of us in the quartet would travel together to a revival meeting.</p><p><br /></p><p>Once we were riding in Bobby Lakes' brand new Buick. I rode in the back seat, and for some reason I got sick at my stomach. I was so sick that I felt I was going to vomit. Before we had time to stop the car, I vomited in the floorboard of Bobby's brand new car. He has never let me forget this, and I don't blame him. </p><p> </p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-14243777836262605032023-02-20T15:16:00.008-08:002023-02-20T15:16:52.974-08:00My Story #112 -- Almost 60 Years<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #112</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Almost 60 Years<br />Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>Bro. Bob Jones and I have been singing and preaching together since 1962. The year 2022 marked 60 years. That is a long time, but it is satisfying that God have us this time to do his work.</p><p></p><p>We never know how long the Lord will keep us going and doing; it has been worth every joy, every effort, every heartache, and every blessing along the way. May God be praised for his great blessings.</p><p></p><p>For the second group (since 1967), it has been almost 60 years: heading there fast. We have enjoyed the journey.</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-2779964346750844122023-02-12T17:30:00.002-08:002023-02-12T17:30:36.693-08:00My Story #111 Back To 1st Quartet for a Minute<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #111</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;">Back To 1st Quartet for a Minute<br /><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>One year the quartet went to Florida for a series of meetings. We stayed in a very nice motel, more like a suite rather than just a room.</p><p></p><p>We were near the ocean, and we enjoyed viewing the beauty scenery and the warm weather.</p><p></p><p>Bro. Demas Brubacher told me that I could not come this close to the ocean without getting into it.</p><p></p><p>So, I took off my shoes and braces, and Demas carried me all the way from the motel, down the beach, to the ocean and put me in the water. So, I swam (?) with the boys in the ocean. We also had some wonderful services in church.</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-77736405633648206772023-02-06T15:16:00.003-08:002023-02-06T15:17:00.350-08:00My Story #110 -- Early Travels of 2nd Group<p> </p><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #110</span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Early Travels of 2nd Group -- February 6, 2023<br /></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin: 0px;">Sometimes the quartet would get the opportunity to
go on a revival circuit, which means that we would leave our homes and
go to a state and stay there for one or two weeks, traveling and singing
and preaching to a few churches during that time. We always enjoyed the
fellowship, not only in churches services but also sometimes during the
week, getting together with some of the folks from the church or
perhaps enjoying a meal and fellowship in a member's home. These were
wonderful days.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">UPDATE ON BRO. WOLFE</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin: 0px;">I still cannot walk on my crutches with much
assurance, but I am planning to be back at church before much longer. I
am praying that God will allow me to pastor the church for a few more
years.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin: 0px;">I can drive my car all right; it is just hard for
me to get from the wheelchair into the car. Once that is mastered, I
will be able to drive again. We are working on these things. I really
miss being at church, and I am sure God will allow me to eventually be
back in the pulpit, even if I have to preach from a wheelchair.</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-68312405380246083802023-01-30T16:58:00.003-08:002023-01-30T16:58:28.495-08:00<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #109</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Early Travels of 2nd Group</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">January 30, 2023<span style="font-size: 14px;"><br />Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>As we traveled from church to church, this second group went through a short time of getting to know one another.</p><p></p><p>While on the road, the "new boys" (Carl Morton | Bobby Lakes) had questions about the Bible and theology. Bob Jones and I, being the more experienced in studying at LBC, had the privilege of telling them what we knew of the Bible and theology. Actually, we all learned together. We tried to stay away from silly questions such as "How many angels can stand on the point of a needle?"</p><p></p><p>When we stayed overnight, in those days we would get one motel room with two twin beds, and we would sleep two in a bed. Once Bobby Lakes accused me of stealing his pillow, but I did not. He actually dropped it on the floor. Those were fun times.</p><p></p><p>Later, when we did not live so close to one another, we had to travel individually or perhaps two together. When I traveled with Bro. Morton, he usually drove. He would put an audio cassette into the cassette player in the car and would ask me to take notes from the sermon he was playing from the cassette. So, I sometimes had a long job to do while we traveled to our destination.</p><p></p><p>I have heard him preach some of these messages, and they did not sound the same as on the cassette; but it was always good. </p><p></p><p>Eating together was another interesting thing. We would stop at a restaurant and order our food; but, before we could finish our dessert, Bob Jones was on his feet saying, "All right, boys, it's time to go: let's go".</p><p></p><p>But we endured it and went on. We always enjoyed singing and preaching in our meetings, and we met many wonderful people, who became lifelong friends. We also experienced seeing many trust the Lord, surrender their lives in rededication, and some young men being called to preach.</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-53950392925771208082023-01-16T13:20:00.001-08:002023-01-16T13:20:18.584-08:00<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #107</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Recent Incident</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold;">December 1, 2022</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>I think I probably should start this week's <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Monday Mentions</span> by telling you of an incident that happened to me on December 1, 2022.</p><p><br /></p><p>I was sitting in my office chair at the church office. I reached down to get something that had fallen on the floor. In doing this, I slipped out of my chair onto the floor. I had no injuries. I did not fall hard.</p><p><br /></p><p>I tried to get back into my chair, but I could not accomplish that. I was stuck on the floor. I called my son, David, and he and his wife and two daughters came to the office and lifted me up into my chair.</p><p><br /></p><p>As I was getting up from the chair to get onto my crutches, I put my weight on my left arm, and my arm gave way completely--as though it was completely paralyzed.</p><p><br /></p><p>My son and his family had to help me go home by holding me up as I walked on my crutches.</p><p><br /></p><p>When we got home, they carried me back to my bed and placed me on the bed. When I hit the bed, I said "hello." I was so glad to be in bed.</p><p><br /></p><p>From that time, I have spent most of my time in bed. I get tired quickly. I have got up on my crutches three or four times sense then. Today I tried it again, and I felt wobbly. I was uncertain of every step.</p><p><br /></p><p>I am to go to the doctor tomorrow, and I am thinking he may send me for some therapy. I have been trying to do some here.</p><p><br /></p><p>Thanks for your prayers and concern. I just want to get back to the place where I can go to work and to church and to preach the word of God.</p><p><br /></p><p>Things we are working on:</p><ul><li>Therapy: seeing doctor tomorrow</li><li>A power chair for my use: have contacted Medmark and also Drake Hospital </li></ul><p><br /></p><p>God knows our ways and our wants, and he will answer according to his will. We trust him completely.</p><p><br /></p><p>GOD BLESS! Have a blessed week!</p><p> </p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-75200451186750818862022-11-29T08:38:00.007-08:002022-11-29T08:38:51.662-08:00My Story #105 -- Records And Albums<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #105</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Records And Albums</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>After the Bluegrass Boys Trio had been traveling for a while, it was determined that we should make a record of some of our songs.</p><p></p><p>We recorded first at Sun-Ray Records where some very prominent recording artists have recorded. The owner was Jimmy Price. His studio was in his garage.</p><p></p><p>We remember well having to put handkerchiefs over our microphones to keep the recording from popping every time a word that started with a P was sung.</p><p></p><p>In one recording session we told Jimmy Price the name of the next song to be recorded, but he did not hear it, so he asked what the next song was, and Dema Brubacher opened the door to the small enclosed area where we were singing and shouted "Sorry, I Never Knew You." Then he closed the door. Jimmy Price first looked at us with surprise, but then he realized that was the name of our next song.</p><p></p><p>We took donations for the records as we traveled around to different churches and gave the money to Lexington Baptist College as we did the donations from churches where we went to sing.</p><p></p><p>Later we made some long-play albums, and God blessed. We realized that we had "arrived" when people said they bought our albums at a yard sale. </p><p></p><p>Those were joyful and yet stressful and tiring days, but we were determined to do this for the Lord and for LBC. We loved the Lord most, and we loved LBC.</p><p></p><p>Bob Jones drove us around in a Volks Wagon Bug, and we wore out two of them. Those were the days, as they say. May God receive honor and glory for our efforts.</p><p></p><p>We saw many trust the Lord as Savior and some young men submit to God's call to preach the word of God. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">-->To be continued<--</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-41077448819523894052022-11-21T11:56:00.009-08:002022-11-21T11:56:58.844-08:00My Story #104 -- Dr. Rosco Brong<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #104</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold;">Dr. Rosco Brong</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>As I sit here and think of what to write this week, I cannot help but think of another of one of my teachers at Lexington Baptist College (LBC). </p><p></p><p>Dr. Rosco Brong was a unique and sometimes mysterious man. I had the privilege of sitting in classes with him as my teacher. There are so many stories that I could tell about class experiences.</p><p></p><p>For example:</p><p></p><p>Once in class Bro. Brong was teaching, I believe, on Redemption. He made a point and for some reason (I cannot remember why), he fell backward in his chair and fell onto the floor. All of US students bit our tongues to try not to laugh, out of our respect for him. When he got up and sat back down in his chair, he said, "Well, you might as well go ahead and laugh." Then, we all burst out laughing. He never even had a smile through that whole episode.</p><p></p><p>Another time, he was teaching a class on Speech. He was having each student to give a short speech, and we all had to critique each speech and tell what we thought was right or wrong with each speech. He had brought a tape recorder to record our speeches. While he was talking, I, being in the front row, reached up and turned the recorded on and recorded his talk. When he was changing subjects, I said, "Bro. Brong, listen to this." To his surprise, he heard himself speaking, and he said, "I don't know how you stand it!" We had another healthy laugh out of that.</p><p></p><p>I also had the privilege with working with Bro. Brong at LBC. His office was at the front of the school building, Bro. Larry Robbins' office was next in line, then my office was next. The three of us would have discussions about theology and Bible things. Once a subject came up of which I had never heard. I said, "I've never heard of that before." Bro. Brong walked away from us into the library and returned with a book in his hand turned to a particular page opened and said, "Here; read this." In just an instant he knew exactly where to find an article on that subject.</p><p></p><p>One other time I was working in my office, and it was lunch time. We both were leaving to go downstairs where lunches were prepared for the students and teachers. As we left the office, Bro. Brong said, "Leave the door ajar." Well, my being a country boy, I had never heard the word ajar before in my entire life, so I did not know what to do; so I just closed the door, which locked. He said, "Don't you know what the word ajar means?" I said, "No, sir, I do not." He did not tell me the meaning but simply went back and put the door in the "ajar" position. I will never forget that word.</p><p></p><p>One more mention of Bro. Brong in my experience. We were in Chapel one morning, and the student who was to speak that day was absent; so Bro. Brong said (as was his wont), "Does anyone want to start anything?" I raised my hand, and he recognized me. I read a passage of Scripture and said, "Bro. Brong, what does that mean?" Bro. Brong cleared his throat (also a wont) and said, "Bro. Wolfe, it means what it says." Then he told us for the next 20 minutes what that verse meant. Don't ask me what the verse was, because I was too startled to remember.</p><p></p><p>I do not know as much as some about Bro. Brong, but I do appreciate the sacrifices he made in order to preach and teach us at LBC. We all loved Bro. Brong.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;">-->To be continued<--<br /> <br /></p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-76029423922546434342022-11-14T09:44:00.005-08:002022-11-14T09:44:37.641-08:00My Story #103 -- A Teacher And Friend<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #103</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A Teacher And Friend</b></span><br />Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>This week I would like to turn our attention to a pastor and teacher in Lexington, Kentucky. He was a teacher at Lexington Baptist College and had an influence on many students who took classes under him, and others. His name is Johnny Thompson. All the preachers will remember. He was quite a unique fellow.</p><p></p><p>In class he was very unorganized but taught us plenty from his vast knowledge of the Old Testament and of Bible places studied from the Old Testament. He drew maps on the blackboard and gave illustrations from his personal life that brought his classes to life. Once, when illustrating the Old Testament of killing by stabbing under "the fifth rib," he picked up my crutch and used it as a sword and had his enemy to stop and be still while he counted to the fifth rib before he slew him with the sword--that one I shall never forget.</p><p></p><p>Bro. Thompson loved planes and was a pilot. Some of the male students would try many times to get him on the subject of airplanes so he would forget that we were supposed to have a test that day. By the time he finished with his plane illustration, it was too late to give the test; it had to wait for the next class session.</p><p></p><p>Bro. Thompson taught in a two-room school, and I found that out from a lady who was once a member of our church here. I asked her how she knew Bro. Thompson, and she said that they both taught in the same two-room school in Irvine, Kentucky--small world.</p><p></p><p>Bro. Thompson became pastor of Devondale Baptist Church in Lexington, Kentucky, and he pastored there for several years. At one time I was a member of Devondale while he was pastor.</p><p></p><p>Eventually, this man, who was so knowledgeable on the holy land and so good at teaching, contacted Alzheimer's. When I heard of it, he was in a nursing home in Kentucky. I decided I wanted to visit him there, so I took my grandson, Eric, and we traveled to the nursing home to visit him.</p><p></p><p>When we arrived, I asked him if he remembered me, and he said he did, although he never mentioned my name. He said, "Who is this you have with you today?" I said, "This is my grandson, Eric." We visited for a while, and he kept asking me over and over who this boy was whom I brought with me today. I kept telling him it was my grandson.</p><p></p><p>While we were there, Bro. Thompson's wife came in. She told me that she visited him yesterday, and he was in his room with his Bible open to the first chapter of Genesis. She asked him what he was doing, and he answered "I am trying to figure out what this says."</p><p></p><p>Bro. Thompson is gone to heaven now, but many of us will long remember his fun-loving attitude and his helpful teaching. We are so thankful for the teachers we had at LBC.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;">-->To be continued<--<br /><br /></p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-68939646743656058632022-11-07T09:34:00.007-08:002022-11-07T14:32:33.834-08:00My Story #102 -- On Our Way<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #102</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>On Our Way</b></span><br />Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>Now it is time for the quartet to begin their travels to sing and preach at different churches and represent Lexington Baptist College (LBC). Bob Jones was the "speaker" for the quartet, and the others in the quartet just sang what he told us to sing. We had practiced quite a few songs, so we were pretty much ready to sing a few songs before a message was preached. We always enjoyed meeting new people and fellowshiping with people we had known for a while.</p><p></p><p>We got on our way in a Volks Wagon Bug squeezed in like sardines. The boys involved in this first quartet were Bob Jones, Deman Brubacker, Bob Carpenter, and Ronnie Wolfe. We followed a previous quartet who sang for one year including Larry Robbins, Ed Kittle, Bob Jones, and Warren Hartman. They could really sing well, but three graduated from LBC and broke up as a quartet. </p><p></p><p>One of the first churches that we visited was Winton Place Baptist Church in Cincinnati, Ohio, where Kelly Campbell was pastor. Bro. Campbell was a good pastor and preacher. We had good friendship with him for several years before his death. Cincinnati and surrounding areas became places of often visits by our quartet, then called The Bluegrass Boys Quartet.</p><p></p><p>Addyston Baptist Church is another church near Cincinnati that we visited many times, first while Bro. Melvin Gecks was pastor and then while Bro. Rex Hensley was pastor, then while Bro. Greg McDaniel was pastor and now Bro. David Pitman is pastor. Our visits there began yearly for a number of years, and we always received a blessing by visiting there.</p><p></p><p>This group of men who made up The Bluegrass Boys traveled together for approximately five years; then Demas Brubacher and Bob Carpenter graduated from college at LBC and went on for further education.</p><p></p><p>Now, what shall we do? What is the next step for The Bluegrass Boys? We shall see in the next installment. </p><p style="text-align: center;"> -->To be continued<--<br /> <br /></p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-69963062189175066372022-11-01T17:15:00.003-07:002022-11-01T17:15:34.206-07:00My Story #101 -- Playing Piano In Lexington<p> </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #101</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Playing Piano In Lexington</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>The
Ashland Avenue Baptist Church building doors were never locked. Anyone
could go in and out at will. Several days in the week I would walk to
the church building and go inside. I would practice piano on the piano
in the main auditorium. This was enjoyable and, I thought, a great
privilege.</p><p> One time while practicing in “Judge Adam’s
Room” Bro. Bob Jones entered the room and heard me playing. He asked me
if I would play for a new group he was getting together, and I told him
that I did not play that kind of music. He asked if I would at least
practice with them; and I said I would. We practiced every week for
about an hour, and eventually we felt we were practiced enough to begin
singing in church. This is the beginning of my playing for the Bluegrass
Boys. At that time the group was called the Lexington Baptist College
Trio, because I did not sing with them. We were called that name,
because we eventually began to travel to promote Lexington Baptist
College.</p><p> I remember that room where I practiced and that
old, upright white piano. Once, I believe in 1967, a photographer came
and took our picture standing around that piano. That memory is still
fresh in my mind, and I will always be grateful and thankful for the
Lord’s leadership in my life, giving me the opportunity to represent the
school and serve the Lord traveling with this singing group.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;">-->To be continued<--<br /> <br /></p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-87541011150819688292022-10-24T11:08:00.003-07:002022-10-24T11:08:40.687-07:00My Story #100 -- A Game And A Bible Lesson<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #100</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Game And A Bible Lesson</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>While attending school at Fugazzi Business College, I kept meeting with my young friends which I met along the way.</p><p></p><p>These
young people would meet in the summertime at a place called Bell Court.
They would meet there in the late afternoon after having come to my
house and demanding that I go with them. When it got dark, they would
play Flashlight Tag, which was new to me. Of course, I could not play,
but they just wanted me to be there. We would laugh and tell jokes and
talk about anything that entered into our minds. There was no cursing or
bad language, perhaps because I was there.</p><p></p><p>One
evening, as we were all there and they were playing Flashlight Tag, a
policeman drove up to the big house where we were sitting on the front
steps. He said that one of the neighbor ladies had called the police
because we were so loud. I apologized, but we both knew that you cannot
have a bunch of young people together in that kind of situation without
having some noise. The policeman understood and said, "Just try, if you
can, to be a little quieter. We get calls from this lady many times for
this or that." I am sure glad we did not have to go to jail.</p><p></p><p>After
a while, all of this hanging around the kids and being with them to
play games, etc., was ended; and I moved from Forest Avenue into a house
with an old preacher who was renting out rooms. I did not know the old
man, but I liked him once I had met him and talked with him. Some of my
readers may remember him or at least his name. His name was C. D.
Stevens, and he was quite the Bible scholar.</p><p></p><p>One night,
coming in from a long trip with the quartet about 2:00 AM or so, I
entered the house, and Bro. Stevens was sitting, as usual, in his
recliner chair, the chair in which he sat most of the day and slept at
night. He opened his eyes and said to me, "Bro. Wolfe, sit down on the
step there, and I will tell you what I am going to preach on this
Wednesday night at First Baptist Church of Lexington. </p><p></p><p>Bro. Stevens slowly lifted up his Bible and turned to the 85th Psalm and read verse:10 <span style="font-style: italic;">Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other. </span>He
preached to me (just me) a message that I will never forget. When he
was finished expressing the truths of this verse in detail, with tears
running down my face, I fell in love with Jesus more than ever before. </p><p></p><p>How
could mercy and truth meet together? How could righteousness and peace
kiss each other? This could happen only in Jesus Christ through his work
on the cross interceding for me to his Father in heaven, saving my soul
for his glory only. </p><p></p><p>I went to my room and finally
fell asleep while thinking on the things I had heard. Never will I ever
be thankful enough for what Jesus did for me on the cross. Thank you,
God, for this old man who touched my heart through your word and divine
truth!</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;">-->To be continued<--</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-30239356577243875302022-10-17T10:24:00.005-07:002022-10-17T10:24:35.968-07:00My Story #99 -- New School In Lexington<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #99</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">New School In Lexington</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>Once
I was settled in Lexington and on a school schedule, I traveled home
every weekend by taking a Greyhound bus to either Williamstown or
Falmouth. There my parents would pick me up, and I would stay home on
the weekend and travel back to Lexington on the bus and get there in the
late afternoon but early enough that I could go to church in the
evening service at Ashland Avenue Baptist Church. My mother gave me four
dollars every week to buy a round-trip ticket home and back to
Lexington. Once I remember that one of the boys that I met in Lexington
wanted me to go with him to a restaurant to get a Coke. He said he had
the money. The only money that I had was the four dollars my mother gave
me for a bus ticket. We went to the restaurant, sat down, and ordered a
Coke for each one of us. When we were finished drinking, the boy went
to the counter and told the waitress that he had no money. I could not
spend my money, so I told her I did not have any money, either. I was so
angry with that boy that I told him I would never go to a restaurant
with him again—and I didn’t.</p><p></p><p>One Sunday evening, I
think it was, I was listening in church when Bro. Walker, our pastor,
began to speak about a preachers school. He explained all about it and
said that for people who had regular jobs there was a night class that
met on Monday night at seven o’clock. That interested me, so I looked
into signing up for that class. This was the good news I told you about
last time. I signed up for the class and met for the first time my
teacher, Bro. James Hamilton. The class was Bible Survey, and that is a
class that every Christian should take. This was the starting point for
my work for the rest of my life.</p><p></p><p>Somewhere along the
way I heard about Lexington Baptist College. There was an institute for
older preachers who were not interested in a Bachelor degree, and there
was a college for those who wanted to pursue more education and receive a
degree. The school also had a higher degree call ThB, or Bachelor of
Theology.</p><p></p><p>After I finished my course at Fugazzi
Business College, I got a job working for First National Bank and Trust
Company, the largest bank in Lexington. I spent eight years working
there (off and on). I got to know many people through my work there.</p><p></p><p>Eventually,
I enrolled in Lexington Baptist College and in 1968 received my
Bachelor degree from the school. Because of my training at Fugazzi, I
also began to teach Typing and Shorthand and a couple other classes
along the way. That was a great joy to me. Lexington Baptist College
(LBC) became precious to me. In 1985 I received the ThB degree. Later I
enrolled in Mountain State Baptist College where Bro. Carl Sadler was
the president. There I received my Master of Christian Education degree I
believe in 1991. Later I enrolled in Andersonville Theological Seminary
and received my Doctor of Christian Education degree. Now it is time to
stop going to school. I think I have learned by now how to learn on my
own. Praise the Lord for these experiences!<br /> <br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-61444157858756015742022-10-10T11:48:00.002-07:002022-10-10T11:48:05.961-07:00My Story #98 -- School In Lexington<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #98</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>School In Lexington</b></span><br />Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p>Once
I was settled in Lexington, Monday came. It was the first day of school
at Fugazzi Business College. I slept in a room upstairs at the end of
Forest Avenue in Lexington; I ate meals in another house on the same
street just a few houses away from where I slept. Then, I had to walk
approximately ½ mile to the school where I was to take a course to train
to be an Executive Assistant, which, I understand, is simply an exalted
secretary, one who works for the president or vice-president of a
company. Thankfully, I was pretty much prepared in high school to enter a
course like this. I had great teachers in high school. I attended
Pendleton County High School in Falmouth, Kentucky.</p><p></p><p>School
days were pretty much normal from one visit to another. Once in the
wintertime, as I arrived home from school one day, the neighbor next to
the house where I slept stopped and asked me if I would be offended if
she gave me a winter coat that belonged to her son, who was killed in an
auto accident. I hardly knew how to answer, but I accepted. The coat
was long and heavy, and it was fire-engine red.</p><p></p><p>The
next morning the temperature was -14 degrees. I nearly froze to death.
The coat kept me warm except for my feet. When I arrived at school, my
feet were numb; and they did not feel normal for nearly four hours. I
had a few days like that but not quite as severe as this one. I will
remember that day for a long, long time.</p><p></p><p>I took classes
such as these: Shorthand, Typing, Office Machines,
Dictation-Transcription, Business English, Accounting, etc. I enjoyed
the classes, because I seemed to be skilled in those classes that
required skill of the hands. I remember that in one class I took
Shorthand dictation at 240 words per minute, which is impressive. I
don’t know that I have done that since. Shorthand is hardly used
anymore, but I still use it from time to time. I attended Fugazzi for
about one year and three months, the longest course that the school
offered. Courses were accelerated in order to give the equivalent to an
Associate Degree in another college. <br /></p><p></p><p>While attending, I
continued to attend Ashland Avenue Baptist Church where one Sunday I
heard some wonderful news, which I will discuss in my next installment.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">-->To be continued<--<br /><br /></p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-57071734454819918902022-10-03T08:00:00.000-07:002022-10-03T08:00:01.053-07:00My Story #97 -- Homesick In Lexington<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #97</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Homesick In Lexington</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>After
being left on the street in Lexington, Kentucky, knowing no one and
very lonely, I met friends. Many of these friends were young people from
the neighborhood, since I had no car and spent my free time walking
around the neighborhood. I was 17 years old, so I connected with the
young people very well and very quickly. Once one of the boys asked me
my middle name. I told him that I was named after my father, and his
name is Willard. After they heard that, they began to call me Willie.
That was my name among the youth of Forest Avenue in Lexington,
Kentucky, in 1962. Occasionally they would call me Willie Babe. I don’t
know what that was all about.</p><p></p><p>I was a churchgoer; so,
when Sunday came, I went to the only church I knew anything about as I
was growing up at home. We listened as often as we could on the radio to
Bro. Clarence Walker, who was the pastor of Ashland Avenue Baptist
Church in Lexington. As a result, that is the church that I attended.</p><p></p><p>After
my first visit to the church, that very week two men came to my house
to visit me. They were Edward Overbey and Carl Sadler. I later found out
that they were both assistant pastors of Ashland Avenue Baptist Church.
I told them I would be back to the church. The very next week they came
back to my house, and I was a little confused, because I told them I
would be back, and I was back again and again and again. I went to every
service and enjoyed the preaching of Bro. Walker, Bro. Overbey, and
Bro. Sadler. Then on Wednesday evening I would enjoy the teaching of
Bro. Rosco Brong. Those sermons and lessons were like Bible college to
me. I cannot understand why people do not want to go to church. The
local church is an instrument of teaching and exhortation. Every believe
should be faithful his own local church, love it, work through it, and
be faithful to it. God will bless all who do.<br /> <br /></p><p> </p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-68556143641662904072022-09-26T08:03:00.007-07:002022-09-26T08:03:41.379-07:00My Story #96 -- Beginning A New Life<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #96</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Beginning A New Life</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>I
was 17 years old, and I had just graduated from high school. I had
already been approached about attending a business school in Lexington,
Kentucky, but my mind was not on going to school but having a little
vacation from school. I had gone to my uncle and aunt’s house to spend
some time, when my mother called me and told me that, if I were going to
go to school in Lexington, I had to be in Lexington the next day. So, I
told her I would go (nervously). My parents came to get me, and the
next day we traveled to Lexington to get acquainted with my school, my
place to stay, and a place to eat meals.</p><p></p><p>When we got to
Lexington, I might as well had been in New York City. Lexington was a
giant city to this country boy. I was introduced to the place and people
necessary, and then my parents drove off to go home and left me
standing on the sidewalk in front of the house where I was to sleep.
They said they could not see me for two weeks.</p><p></p><p>Can you
imagine a boy of 17 being left in a big city alone, knowing almost no
one, and already getting homesick for the country? Well, that’s what
they did to me. I noticed a young boy about 12 years old across the
street working on my bicycle. I walked across the street and introduced
myself. His name was Jimmy. I asked him if he would let me help him fix
his bike, and he said he would appreciate it. I had worked on bikes a
few times, so I was a pretty good help. I got to know the family through
Jimmy, and we became friends. This started the rest of my life after
high school.</p><p>-->To be continued<--</p><p> </p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-58247363396405506782022-09-19T13:38:00.005-07:002022-09-19T13:38:48.190-07:00My Story #95 -- Fun Meetings<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #95</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fun Meetings</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>Friday
afternoon was enjoyable, as I met with some of my grandchildren at my
office. My great granddaughter is about 18 month old, but she would have
very little to do with me; however, I did enjoy being together with
them and seeing the granddaughter get used to space around her and walk
around looking at everything.</p><p></p><p>Saturday mid-afternoon was spent with my son’s family as they had a celebration for my birthday on the 23<sup>rd</sup> and for my grandson, who will be leaving soon to go as a soldier to Syria after some more training in Texas.</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-60794087498900803902022-09-12T11:02:00.005-07:002022-09-12T11:02:31.609-07:00My Story #94 -- Ghost In Church Building?<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #94</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ghost In Church Building?</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p></p><p>One
evening late I was working in the recording room at church. I don’t
remember what I was trying to accomplish, but I remember that I needed
an empty cassette tape to do whatever it was.</p><p></p><p>I reached
into the box of new tapes we had just bought; and, just to be sure, I
put the tape into the tape player and turned it on PLAY. In a few
seconds I heard the most confusing sound I ever heard. Remember, it is
late at night, and I am in the building alone. The sound seemed to be
someone speaking in another language, but it was even more confused than
that.</p><p></p><p>I looked around to see if anyone else was in the
building, thinking that someone may be playing a joke on me through a
microphone. I turned off the tape, and the sound stopped. I turned it on
again, and the sound came back. I had heard some weird stories about
demons, so I wondered for a few seconds whether it could be a demon.</p><p></p><p>However,
when I got my mind settled, I realized that I had heard the sound
before. I heard it while listening to a tape that a man had in his study
of demons. It was a tape that was played backward. Then I realized that
the tape company had sent me some tapes that were already used. Perhaps
they tried to erase them with a bulk erase and did not get all the
sound off the tapes. We did not purchase tapes from them anymore.</p><p></p><p>Now,
I do not believe in ghosts, but I do believe in demons; but this was no
demon. It was just a tape loaded backwards in a cassette—someone
preaching backward.</p><p></p><p>That was some experience!</p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-78969305437565573412022-09-07T10:04:00.006-07:002022-09-07T10:04:40.747-07:00My Story #93 -- My Little Smart Doctor<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Little Smart Doctor</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p></p><p>On
Sunday my 11-year-old grandson and I usually go to some restaurant to
eat; so Sunday we went to Skyline Chili to eat. We were sitting there
talking about everything imaginable, and I mentioned something about a
brain tumor. </p><p></p><p>He said to me, “Well, they are not really
too bad if they do not metastasize. Then they can move around and
attach themselves to bones and other things in the body. Then they are
really difficult to treat.”</p><p></p><p>I didn’t say it, but I thought it: “You little smart aleck! Just shut your mouth.”</p><p> </p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-67031063414492722192022-08-29T11:48:00.001-07:002022-08-29T11:48:04.730-07:00My Story #92 -- Learning To Play Piano<p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #92</span></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Learning To Play Piano</span></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">When I was seven years old, my family and I lived on a small farm on Highway 330 in Pendleton County, Kentucky.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Someone gave us an upright piano, one of those now old pianos that plays easily and sounds great--we don't hear them much anymore.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Someone in the neighborhood, I heard, was going to give piano lessons to my sister. However, that neighbor moved away, and there were no lessons given.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">As the piano sat there all by itself, I wandered over to it and began to play around with it. Eventually I was able, by listening to the notes, to play out a melody from one of the songs that we sang at church one finger and one note at a time. </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">As time went on, I learned to put other notes with the single notes; then someone came along and showed me what a chord is. When I put the chords with the melody notes, it sounded pretty good; but then I played all songs in the same key, since I had no knowledge of what a key is.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Later someone explained to me about the keys in which songs were written and sung. When I went to Lexington Baptist College, we were required to take a course in Music Fundamental. This was very helpful. I found out that I played "by ear." This class in music gave me enough knowledge of sheet music that I could write my own music. In fact, the teacher, Mrs. Hodges, proofread the song that I wrote and made one very small change to it.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">While still very young, I listened to Liberace on the radio and later watched him on TV. I learned a lot from him as I listened and watched. </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">So, I encourage all who would like to play piano (or keyboard now) to just sit down, play with the keys and listen, listen, listen. You may soon learn to play melodies and later the more complicate music. You must stay with your practice, though, or you will not progress.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-72533921892490007252022-08-22T13:08:00.000-07:002022-08-22T13:08:10.837-07:00My Story #91 -- Story Of A Small Boy<p> </p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #91</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><b>Story Of A Small Boy</b></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Pastor Ronnie Wolfe</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Once upon a time there was a small boy, aged two years old. He was born to a good and an industrious family. God was in the home, and God loved them very much.</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">This boy had two brothers and a sister at that time, and his parents took in to raise a young boy about eight months older than this young boy. We considered him our brother. In fact, in school he bore our last name.</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">In a house next door to a small grocery store in Locust Grove, Kentucky, which my parents ran, this small boy awoke one morning and could not walk. After his parents took him to five doctors, the fifth doctor sent them to the hospital, and the doctors at the hospital concluded that this small boy had Infantile Paralysis. Now it is called Polio.</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I am that boy, and the year was 1947, when the Polio epidemic had bloomed again after several previous outbreaks. </p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">God has been good to me, and people have been good to me. I am almost 78 years old, and I have done pretty much what most other people can do. God called me into the ministry when I was 18 years old, and I have been preaching now for 60 years. 40 of those years have been spent pasturing First Baptist Church in Harrison, Ohio.</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I am not as fast or as capable as I once was, but I still serve the Lord with the strength I have, and God has seen fit to put people in this church who love me and take good care of me. My wife, Shirley (who passed away in 2003), and I had three boys, and they have given me 10 grandchildren and even great grandchildren.</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I have many, many friends, and you, no doubt, are among those many friends. Thank you for being my friend, and may God bless you is my prayer.</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> </p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-46841495663799321892022-08-16T13:49:00.001-07:002022-08-16T13:49:14.456-07:00My Story #90 -- Lose On Way To Zoo<p> </p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 21px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #90</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">"Lost On The Way To The Zoo"</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">Being on vacation, I had an opportunity to go to the Cincinnati Zoo with some friends, including a missionary and his wife and a few people from the church here. We took two vehicles. I took the missionary couple, and the others rode in another vehicle. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">On the way to the zoo, I was persuaded that I knew the way, because I had gone there many times in the past, but I had not gone this way that we determined to go on Monday. So, I began driving to the zoo and planning to go by way of Mitchell Avenue. I got to Mitchell Avenue with no problem, but I forgot that there was a Y in the road ahead. When I arrived at the Y, I could not make up my mind whether to go right or left (I had forgotten). I decided, then, to go to the left. I found quickly that this was the wrong way. I found out by driving quite a distance and realizing that the zoo is closer than this.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">As I wiggled my way around streets, I began to lose my sense of direction, and I finally had to turn on Onstar for directions. The computer voice on Onstar told me that it was 2 miles away. I followed the directions until I got to the zoo, thankfully. Onstar is my friend, even though she speaks "computer."</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">We laughed as we joked about the car's not being able to sense the way to the zoo and that the car did not want to go to the zoo, and on and on. We had a great time. When returning home, I went a different way and arrived home safe and sound. We had a wonderful day. I am thankful for the couple who paid for everything for our trip. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540246246600593898.post-65671768165380129062022-08-08T09:54:00.005-07:002022-08-08T09:54:50.562-07:00My Story #89 - Wonderful Celebration<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c7b4b; font-size: 26px; font-weight: bold;">My Story #89</span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wonderful Celebration</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Ronnie Wolfe</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>On August 6, 2022, First Baptist celebrated my pastoral anniversary of 40 years at the church. </div><div><br /></div><div>We had several visitors who are former members, and many could not come for one reason or another. Part of my family had Covid. We had a wonderful time, and I received some really nice gifts. I am thankful to everyone who came and who worked so hard to make this possible.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am not retiring but will be working to make my preaching better and trying to work harder for the Lord in witnessing his Gospel, asking for God's help on the way.</div><div> </div>Dr. Ron Wolfehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04233183522385398332noreply@blogger.com0