Sundays are the best. I hope you all will agree if I say this. From my young age, it was the church that has been my support. My mom was very young when she started to work. We were in Surandai, a small town then. In those days, there were no specific daycare centers. But our pastor had a helper who was childless for years, and he took care of me throughout the day at church. Literally, I was blessed to be raised by that godly man for a few years until I started joining classes. I still remember the place where I used to sit with my mom. I remember the Christmas tree celebration where I eagerly waited to receive gifts wrapped in colorful papers. My childhood was simply awesome, with my parents who gave me a love for God's house at that very young age. I am ever grateful to my God for my mom and dad.
One day, I was playing with my cousin, who is like a brother to me, named Vinoth. He was pinching and biting me. My pastor came running toward us and gave him a nice scolding, which made him play gently with me afterward. For me, my pastor was a family member, like a grandpa. Then we shifted to Tenkasi, where we started going to the church of Pastor Steve Jayaraj. I remember him driving a car, and when he saw us, he asked us to get in. My small feet entered the beautiful sedan for the first time. I was in awe, and I started to explore by trying to check how the window worked. When my hands went near the windows, my mom knew I was up to something and gave me a stern look that made me sit quietly inside. I understood that I was traveling with someone who was highly respected. Only later did I realize that my pastor was the correspondent of the school where I was studying. As a teacher's child, my parents paid half of the fees. God knows how much that helped my early education. From then on, I was in awe of my pastor. I have known him since my third standard, and we started to see him every week at our church.
Our church was a small shed behind our assistant pastor's house, with so many flowers along the pathway. I learned the discipline of being quiet and listening to the sermon whenever it was given. At a very young age, I developed the habit of collecting beautiful palm-sized diaries and writing down whatever I understood from my pastor's sermon. My pastor laid the spiritual foundation for my growth there. I received the pure word of God and perfect principles from him. I used to be amazed whenever he brought in amazing worship leaders and preachers from around the world. I loved the way my pastor spoke English, and I enjoyed hearing stories and life experiences of missionaries from around the world. I remember Pastor David Steward coming to our church and talking about how, when he was very young, his parents would ask him to share his room with the men of God whenever they visited their house. My mind always wanted to listen to the various experiences of pastors and people who came to our church.
I truly enjoyed the rich heavenly food—the spiritual manna—that I received from my church. It built my inner self and filled me with a love for God and His word. When I was about to reach my teenage years, I went to an SFC (Students for Christ) meeting at Shencottai. We stayed at the house of Glad Bible Center, and we had fun at that meeting. I received my salvation there. Later, I had the experience of anointing at another meeting at Tenkasi SFC, where I even dedicated my life to God. My pastor always wanted the best for us. I have fond memories of our church celebrating Mother's Day. My mom received many beautiful gifts, of which the cute golden candle stand still stays in my mind. My pastor made us thank God for our mothers before giving them the gifts. The same went for Father's Day. I loved giving something to my pastor on Father's Day. I remember making and giving small handmade cards with Bible verses on them. It was my dad who always encouraged me to honor my pastor, telling me that he was my spiritual father.
I can never forget the sing-song services we had at our church before we celebrated Christmas. That was when I started singing with my mom. It was the song "Aadhi Pidha Kumaran." On that day, every family would come forward to sing a song. The air was filled with joy for the season and the reason. We celebrated Jesus Christ for coming to earth to save us with immense joy. My pastor sang all the Christmas carols with his family. The picture of him singing with Nirmala Athai, Steffy, Stacy Akka, and Joshua is still fresh in my mind. Christmas and New Year services were very special at my church. When my pastor learned about my love for singing, he became a great encourager. He motivated me to continue in my journey of singing and worshipping God by lifting my voice. His genuine appreciation and love helped me thrive in singing. He was nothing short of a perfect, loving spiritual father who cherished seeing me grow in the Lord.
Incidents often occurred where he encouraged us to answer questions from the previous sermon and joyfully gave gifts when we answered correctly. He was so proud to see us, as a church, growing in the Lord. Later, we moved to a newly built church, which is my favorite place in the whole world to this day. I have felt the love of God deeply surrounding me whenever I raised my hands in worship there. One of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed in my life is my pastor leading, loving, and helping us grow and thrive in our church. The pure love he showed us by searching for us in the crowd, calling our names, smiling at us, and running toward us whenever he saw us—there are no words to describe it.
My husband recently told me, "You are so lucky to be loved by your pastor like this." Yes, I am greatly blessed by God for this man of God who touched my life, and many others, with his love and ministry. Happy Birthday, my dear spiritual father. Thank you for loving us with the love of God.
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