I was raised on white bread and did not develop a taste for the good stuff until I was adult and someone finally clued me in to how much healthier it was and I might add, much more tasty. I remember my daddy eating pumpernickel, rye, and all those exotic types of bread, but the brothers and I stuck to the good old white bread. There was nothing fancy about our palettes.
The fact is I was born and raised in a white bread world. There was not one thing about my childhood that said Upper Crust. My people were in the insurance business--not Wall Street tycoons or wealthy magnates of industry. I was a small town girl in middle class America. I am very proud of who my people were and where I came from.
The world would tell us being born wealthy and with influence gives higher status. It also comes with a cost. As The Word tells us, easier to get a camel through the eye of a needle than a rich man into The Kingdom. With wealth comes problems, from the outside it may appear like heaven on earth, but the rich struggle with the same and possibly more problems than the rest. It is a day to day struggle to hold onto those dollars and still live the life style of the rich and famous. My small town upbringing has a unique charm which cannot be duplicated. When I speak of the simplicity of life then and how safe I felt, the big city dwellers are amazed. It was good to grow up in a white bread world and I do not pretend to be anyone, but who I am.
It reminds me of our cloak of Christianity, which we conveniently don when it serves us well, but cast aside when the world serves us better. We forget where we came from, what was done for us, and put on our worldly disguise. Help me Lord, to remember my roots and warmly wear the cloak of Christ where
ever I go.
Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong.
I Corinthians's 13:16