Bestsong

By Scott Perry

It was around 1980 or 1982 that I had a dream or night vision of my standing in the pulpit of the Primitive Baptist Church of Gifford, Florida. In this dream or night vision, I was holding a book in my right hand. The title on the cover page of this book was "Bestsong." The next day, I shared this dream with my wife Helen and said to her, "I got to write a book." A few years later, my wife and I were walking through a parking lot in Fort Pierce, Florida, around two o'clock in the afternoon. A doctor friend of mine and a prophet I had never met was introduced to my wife and me. In shaking my hand, he said to me, "I am a prophet of God, and God said or says to you write that book." My wife Helen laughed and said, "I think you better start writing that book, bud." About two or three weeks later, I had another dream or night vision. In this one, I was standing and looking in front of a jukebox, looking down at a turning or spinning black record. It had the face of a hideous, giggling man in it. As this record played, rays were shooting out from this record. These rays would strike the young listeners in the head. I noticed that as these rays struck the heads of these young people, they would stiffen like they had become zombies. They would walk away from the jukebox and straightaway, go out and perform those evils they had heard coming from these records and the jukebox. A "Bestsong" can be God-inspired or Demon-inspired. A "Bestsong" can be the Almighty God from Heaven, or it can be to the god of this world, Satan. This book is a revelation from God our Father and the Lord, Jesus Christ, our soon-coming King. The ultimate goal of this book is to glorify God and to make one wise unto salvation. Read and be blessed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098011925

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Bestsong

Scott Perry

Copyright © 2019 by Scott Perry

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

How and Where It All Began

From Mennings Quarter to Hills Plantation

School Days Are Here for Me

With Bad News Came Hard Times

You Are in the Army Now

You Are Off to College Now

He Never Left Us Alone

To my natural parents:

Pam Perry, Sr. and Edna Cookley Perry

Vero Beach, Florida

Spiritual parents in college:

Rev. Sapp

Mrs. Mary Johnson

St. Augustine, Florida

Acknowledgment

I would like to thank my daughter, Angelia Perry, for her diligent and dedicated work in seeing this book to its completion.

I would also like to thank my wife, Helen Perry, and my daughter, Aundrea Perry, for their professional critique.

About this Book

It was around 1980 or 1982 that I had a dream or night vision of my standing in the pulpit of the Primitive Baptist Church of Gifford, Florida. In this dream or night vision, I was holding a book in my right hand. The title on the cover page of this book was Bestsong. The next day, I shared this dream with my wife Helen and said to her, I got to write a book.

A few years later, my wife and I were walking through a parking lot in Fort Pierce, Florida, around two o’clock in the afternoon. A doctor friend of mine and a prophet I had never met was introduced to my wife and me. In shaking my hand, he said to me, I am a prophet of God, and God said or says to you write that book.

My wife Helen laughed and said, I think you better start writing that book, bud.

About two or three weeks later, I had another dream or night vision. In this one, I was standing and looking in front of a jukebox, looking down at a turning or spinning black record. It had the face of a hideous, giggling man in it. As this record played, rays were shooting out from this record. These rays would strike the young listeners in the head. I noticed that as these rays struck the heads of these young people, they would stiffen like they had become zombies. They would walk away from the jukebox and straightaway go out and perform those evils they had heard coming from these records and the jukebox.

A Bestsong can be godly inspired, or it can be demonically inspired. A Bestsong can be to the Almighty God from heaven, or it can be to the god of this world, Satan.

This book is a revelation from God our Father and the Lord, Jesus Christ, our soon-coming King. The ultimate goal of this book is to glorify God and to make one wise unto salvation.

Read and be blessed.

Introduction

This book is the first one I have written. It is not a book about human exaltation or human imagination. This book is not fictional, but factual—based on personal, lived experiences with God.

This is an attempt to share the reality of an Almighty God that can be as real to that man, woman, boy or girl as the air they breathe and as close as the blood that runs or flows through their veins. This book wants to introduce to the readers a God-given Word revealed to the writer of this book—the word Bestsong. Also, to become knowledgeable of the effects on the lives of those who will believe and indulge in Bestsong to God.

Bestsong is not entertainment to the masses, but true spiritual praise and worship (obedience) from your heart, mind, and soul to God and God alone. In this book, you will discover that God truly inhabits the praises of his people and will save, bless, and protect those who indulge in Bestsong to Almighty God, our Father and Jesus Christ, our Savior and soon-coming King.

This book will take you on an edifying journey where you will be blessed and find everlasting joy along the way. Let the journey began and invite God to be your companion along the way.

Expect your miracle as you start this exciting journey, reading and singing Bestsong. Allow this book to become a point of contact as Paul’s handkerchiefs and aprons from his body (Acts 19:12); Peter’s shadow passing over the sick lying in beds along the streets (Acts 5:15); and the hem of Jesus garment to the woman with an issue of blood (Matthew 9:22). It will be life to you and health to all your flesh (Proverbs 4:22).

Chapter 1

How and Where It All Began

I was lying there in bed as night seems to always come too quickly and the days are always too short. I think of my daddy Pam Perry Sr. and how long it is going to take for me to grow up and be a man like Daddy. I was there in bed recalling the songs Mother often sings about a God that had made the world, the sun, the moon, flowers, birds, animals, and people; a God that could do anything. I thought to myself maybe if I ask God, he would change me to a man overnight. I close my eyes and silently said, God, make me a man by in the morning. It’s going to take too long for me to be a man like Daddy.

Drifting slowly off to sleep, I was wondering, Will I be a man like Daddy when I wake up? The next morning, I awaken eagerly looking at my hands to discover I am the same little boy. A little disheartened but not discouraged and thinking it will be a long time coming, but I will one day be a man like Daddy. Beatrice, the oldest child in the family, and Pam Jr. the second oldest, and me the youngest, often played Mother and Father with me being the child. I often thought that one day I will have a little brother or sister I can boss as Pam and Beatrice do me every day.

I was fascinated by birds, butterflies, and dragonflies. In the evening, just before the sun disappeared in the western skies, the whole family would watch the bull-bat birds make a high-pitched, squeaking sound as they climbed about the other bull-bats and dive down close to the ones below as they make a loud whooping sound. This was a kind of family entertainment after the family evening meal.

I, once again being put to bed early, began to think about how I would do anything to be a bird to fly high in the sky. So again, I decided to pray again to this God Mother sings about and see if God would make me a bird. Slowly off to sleep, I went to awake the next morning to find that I was still a little boy. I observed the beauty of the flowers that seem to be everywhere, and all colors I would passionately touch everyone in reaching distance. With the butterflies flying from flower to flower, the scenery was breathtaking and captivating to me. Thinking to myself, this is so beautiful and longing to just stay here among the flowers and the butterflies.

The day came when Beatrice had to learn to count to a hundred and say all of the alphabets from A to Z. Beatrice was excited about getting ready to attend school, but Pam and I were saddened at the prospect of not being able to play Mom and Dad, with Beatrice no longer to be the mom. As Mother would teach counting and alphabets to Beatrice, Pam and I would try to remember or learn them also. As Beatrice entered school, Pam and I were left to find new games to play and sing songs with Mom.

I Am Thine, O Lord, I have heard thy voice, and it told thou love to me. But I long to rise in the arms of faith and be closer drawn to thee. Draw me nearer, nearer, bless-ed Lord to the cross where thou has died; draw me nearer, nearer blessed Lord, to thy precious bleeding side. Mother’s singing awakes Pam Jr. and me, crawling out of bed anxiously to eat breakfast. This was Wednesday, the washday, when Mother washed the laundry and bed linen for the week. Daddy had gone to work and Beatrice to school.

It is a mild, chilly, and cloudless morning. The chilly breeze is blowing very briskly from the east, off of the Indian River waters about a half mile away. As usual, Daddy had gone to work before daybreak, Beatrice had gone to her first-grade class on the school bus arriving between 7:15–7:30 a.m. daily, about 100 yards from the house.

Mother had filled the old, smutty black boiling pot with water. The wood fire around the pot was blazing with black smoke being blown swiftly toward the western skies. The rising sun was shining brightly against the eastern wall of the house so situated near the east wall for the purpose of keeping our mother warm during the cold washdays. Daddy, as usual, had helped Mom the evening before or the morning of the washday to fill the three tubs on the platform with water. One tub for soap and water, and two for rinsing with the clothesline about ten yards away.

Before Mother started the washing process, she dressed Pam and me in heavy clothing. She instructed us to get the small chairs and come with her. As we approached the boiling pot, Mother instructed us to sit at a distance to keep warm by the blazing fire around the boiling pot. Very sternly, Mother instructed us, Sit and don’t get out of the chairs or play in the fire. Off Mother went to start her washing for the day. In the distance, we could hear Mother singing as she does every day, all day long. When Mother was asked why she sings that song, the reply was always the same, It’s the bestsong. The name of the song was not important to Mother; it is the inspiration of the moment for the situation of the present.

Mother was now hard at washing the laundry as we sat, warmed by the now, slowly burning fire. By now, Mother’s bestsong has changed to I come to the garden alone, while the dew was still on the roses. I noticed that Pam was sliding out of his chair and began to pull out some red, hot coals with a small stick. Suddenly, a small still voice spoke to me saying, Get that boiling stick out of the boiling pot and hit him and make him stop playing in that fire. The boiling stick was a long broomstick leaning in my direction. I slowly stood, taking the warm handle, slowly lifting the stick over Pam’s head, bringing it down very deliberately on to Pam’s head. I dropped the stick quickly as Pam jumped up with both hands on his head; Pam was angry. I see what I have done and Pam’s reaction, and I was surprised by the voice I heard and as to what had happened.

Pam was yelling, Why you do that? Why you do that? Pam suddenly pushed me in the chest, and I flopped down on the ground yelling, Mom, Mom, as Mother rushed from her washing platform yelling, What y’all doing? What y’all doing? Mother approached the scene, looking down observing the small stick with hot coals pulled out the fire and the long boiling stick on the ground. Mother yelled at Pam stating, Yes, you been playing in the fire. Mother gave Pam two slaps on his back and firmly instructed him to sit and don’t move! Looking at me still sitting on the ground, Mother pulled me by the hands and said, You better not move out that chair; sit! Mother headed back to washing, continued singing her bestsong.

I was born on the first day of January 1934, and I was a kind of trophy for the family. Everyone would ask Mother and Daddy, Is that the little New Year baby? It seems everyone for miles around had heard of this baby boy born on January 1, 1934.

When I was three years old, I wanted to walk to church, to my grandparents, and during shopping trips, like Beatrice and Pam. But Daddy seemed to want to baby me by carrying me everywhere proudly so people could ask is this the New Year’s baby. Beatrice, now seven years old and Pam five, also wanted to take me by the hand—all three of us walking side-by-side. Our peers would ask is this your little New Year brother and proudly they would answer yes, with broad smiles.

Mother would sing her bestsong "I came to the garden alone, while the dew was still on the roses. And the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses. And He walks with me, and He