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    From the Pit to the Pulpit
    From the Pit to the Pulpit
    From the Pit to the Pulpit
    Ebook74 pages1 hour

    From the Pit to the Pulpit

    By Molly S. Thomas

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    About this ebook

    Have you ever found yourself in what seemed like a pit? You were in the pit of depression, grief, loneliness and/or frustration. You seem to be going around in circles and experiences the same thing over and over again. How do you get out? How do you start again? What makes you stop the world from spinning and walk in a straight path? In the second book by Molly Sexton Thomas, she takes you on her personal journey of discover to the true meaning in scripture, "Woman Be Thou Made Whole." Find out how Molly Sexton Thomas went from the "Pit to the Pulpit."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBK Royston Publishing
    Release dateAug 27, 2018
    ISBN9781386857181
    From the Pit to the Pulpit

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      Book preview

      From the Pit to the Pulpit - Molly S. Thomas

      Dedication

      I dedicate this book to anyone who has experienced or currently going through abuse of any kind and never spoken about it.  It is your time to be set free!

      Acknowledgements

      First, I like to thank God for always keeping me and blessing me throughout every aspect of my life. 

      To my children Latoya & Alisa Sexton for encouraging me & having patience with me through some of the most difficult times in my life.  I love you.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1

      While reading and meditating on the 23rd division of Psalms, it is so clear to me that when David wrote this passage he was looking back on his life. I can imagine him looking out of his window and thinking about how far God had brought him. From working as a shepherd boy to the reigning king, and all the trials and tribulations David went through, he arrives at the point of praising God despite it all.  As I read this passage over and over, I see the deep sense of admiration and gratefulness David has toward God.  I can just see David thinking about his life and retreating to a place of quietness, picking up a pen and paper, and writing the words of this 23rd Psalm, The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.  He maketh me to lie down in green pasture; he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the path of righteousness for his namesake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of deaths, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.  Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

      I have heard and recited those six verses many times, but I guess, like David, you have to go through some things to really appreciate the words. As I sit and meditate on my life, I began to feel David wrote those words just for me.  I sit here now thanking God for all I have and where I came from.  Now, let’s get one thing straight, when I say things that I have, I am not talking about material items.  They are good to have, but I am thanking God for my peace of mind, for my spirituality, my joy, for just blessing, and keeping me down through the years.  As I look at my life now, I can't believe there was a time that I did not know if I believed in God or not.

      Growing up, I lived in a small town in Indiana where there were no strangers, and everyone knew your name. The town had one high school that everyone attended. We had one K-Mart and two pharmacies. The railroad tracks divided the city. It was usually Northside versus Southside and each side had its own community center. Northsiders gathered at Lakewood Community Center and Southsiders went to Crawford Community Center. Neighbors would sit on the porch in rocking chairs talking to each other and watch kids play stickball or four squares. Seems like each house was uniquely built for that specific family. No matter where we were in the town, you had better be home before the street lights came on. It seems like there was a church on every corner. I remember attending a beautiful white church that sits on the corner of Baxter Street. It was a small church with beautiful stain-glass windows and a white cross on top of the roof. The name of our church was Agape Baptist Church. It was a historical building because it was the oldest church in our community. Every Sunday it filled quickly so you would have to get there early to get a seat. When you walked in the sanctuary, the first thing you noticed was the drawing above the baptismal pool.  It was a picture of Jesus standing in the clouds with his arms wide open and the words Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest, Matthew 11:28. Beautiful white and black benches filled the room and a black and white carpet divided them and made an aisle. There was a black organ on one side of the room and a black piano on the other side. The choir stand was full every Sunday with the youth choir on one side and the adult choir on the other side. I was usually the little girl with her hair in a pony tail sitting on the front seat of the youth choir not really knowing what I was singing about, but I was there singing mainly because my mother made me. Raised in a home where my mom was all about God and church, I was at the church every time the doors were open. But for some reason, it did not raise my interest in God.  Now that I am older, and I look back on those days when I had to go to church, I guess something was happening inside of me that just took a long time to manifest.

      I think about my childhood often. Sometimes I believed I was robbed of my childhood.  My mother's name was Paula Mays.  I don't have too many complaints of the childhood she gave me because now I realize she gave me the best that she could offer.  Mom was a stern woman, who was not that loving, but I knew in her own way she loved me.  She was not very affectionate. I can't even remember a hug or hearing her say, I love you except for a few days before she died.  Even without her affection, I still knew that she loved me.  I often wondered why she did not express her love by saying it or hugging me.  Later in life, I found out Mom was that way because she lost her mother at a young age and she

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