Scripture from memory and prayer like bullet proof vests
Posted February 21, 2007
When I was growing up in Eastern Oregon, I met a woman named Christina Skultety. She was a Sunday School teacher, song leader and an ordained minister in the Assemblies of God.
Each morning, Sister Christina would rise early -- at 2 or 3 a.m. -- to pray. While the rest of the town slumbered she sought the face of God, petitioning the Lord on our behalf. Her prayers seemed powerful, like bullet proof vests, protecting us from fiery darts.
Christina wasn't the only early riser in the Skultety household. Brother Ed, her husband, was a radio evangelist with a 7:15 a.m. time slot. Each morning, around breakfast, his sermons echoed across Oregon, summoning radioland to repentance.
I wasn't an early riser, but after the sun rose and the city came to life, I would often pedal my bicycle to Sister Christina's house -- a couple of miles away -- and ask her for spiritual guidance. I didn't know anything about the "priest-penitent" privilege, but I knew I could tell her anything and it would be deposited in a spiritual lock box -- eternally secure and accessible only by God.
I lived in the desert side of the state, east of the towering Cascades and the douglas firs. In the summers, the temperature would typically soar into the 90s and, not in frequently, top 100 degrees. But the Skultetys kept their air conditioner cranked up and their iced tea pitcher full. Their home was an oasis for me and a lot of other people.
Oddly enough, I don't remember ever seeing Christina search the scriptures during our conversations. She didn't have to look passages up. She already had them committed to memory -- in the King James Version, of course.
It seemed like she had memorized the entire New Testament, with the book of Proverbs tossed in for good measure.
Two decades after attending Harvard, I can't remember many of my professors' names. Lord knows I can't quote them. The textbooks they cited are distant memories.
But I can still hear Christina's voice, soft and powerful and so full of conviction.
"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."
"Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it."
"Without holiness, no man shall see the Lord."
"Without faith is it impossible to please God."
"There is a way that seems right unto men but the end thereof is destruction."
One passage, Proverbs 3:5-6, was her anthem: "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways, acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."
After graduating from high school in 1985, Christina gave me a going away present -- the entire Bible on audiocassete.
I was far from devout during my college years. After attending church at least three times per week -- every week -- I was ready for a sabbatical. I was eager to sin for a season. The tapes gathered dust for a time. But the passages she had spoken did not fade.
I'm not the only one who loved Christina. Years later, when my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and the doctors told her she was going to die, mom seemingly skipped denial, depression, anger and bargaining and moved straight to acceptance. Mom, 59 years old, picked up the phone and asked Christina to conduct the funeral. Christina, without hesitation, agreed.
Ironically, the church where the memorial service was held hasn't always been open to women in the ministry. Only men were allowed on the church board. Only men could serve as senior pastor. I think it pleased my mother, who was smarter and better with money than 99 percent of American men, to know that a woman would be the one providing hope and proclaiming the gospel at the memorial service.
On Valentine's Day 2004, we gathered to say goodbye to my mom. The pain drowned out almost everything that month, three years ago, but Christina -- 84 years old -- became my family's comforter.
She preached without notes. She spoke without a Bible. She quoted the scriptures emphatically, authoritatively as if God himself were whispering the words in her ears.
Our mother, Christina said, had found the source, the wellspring of salvation. And she encouraged the crowd to follow in my mom's footsteps.
As she closed, Christina looked me in the eye and taught me one more passage from the holy scriptures:
"He that hath the Son hath life."
Comments
Frank,
What a tribute to Christina. You really captured her spirit in these words. I could hear echoes of her voice as I read what you had written.
And what a tribute to your mom too. She would be pleased.
What a lovely story, Frank! Reading it was a great way to start the day. Thanks for sharing it.