I saw him in the church
building for the first time on Wednesday. He was
in his mid-70's, with thinning silver
hair and a neat brown suit. Many
times in the past I had invited him to
come. Several other Christian
friends had talked to him about the Lord
and had tried to share the good
news with him.
He was a
well-respected, honest man with so many characteristics a
Christian should have, but he had never
put on Christ, nor entered the
doors of the church.
"Have you ever been to
a church service in your life?" I had asked him
a few years ago. We had just
finished a pleasant day of visiting and
talking.
He hesitated. Then with
a bitter smile he told me of his childhood
experience some fifty years ago. He was
one of many children in a large
impoverished family. His parents
had struggled to provide food, with
little left for housing and
clothing. When he was about ten, some
neighbors invited him to worship with
them.
The Sunday School class
had been very exciting! He had never heard such
songs and stories before!
He had never heard
anyone read from the Bible! After class was over, the
teacher took him aside and said, "Son,
please don't come again dressed
as you are now. We want to look our best
when we come into God's house."
He stood in his ragged,
un-patched overalls. Then looking at his dirty
bare feet, he answered softly, "No,
ma'am, I won't ever."
"And I never did," he
said, abruptly ending our conversation.
There must have been
other factors to have hardened him so, but this
experience formed a significant part of
the bitterness in his heart.
I'm sure that Sunday
School teacher meant well. But did she really
understand the love of Christ? Had
she studied and accepted the
teachings found in the second chapter of
James?
What if she had put her
arms around the dirty, ragged little boy and
said, "Son, I am so glad you are here,
and I hope you will come every
chance you get to hear more about Jesus."
I reflected on the
awesome responsibility a teacher or pastor or a
parent has to welcome little ones in His
name. How far reaching her
influence was!
I prayed that I might
be ever open to the tenderness of a child's heart,
and that I might never fail to see
beyond the appearance and behavior of
a child to the eternal possibilities
within.
Yes, I saw him in the
church house for the first time on Wednesday. As
I looked at that immaculately dressed
old gentleman lying in his casket,
I thought of the little boy of long
ago. I could almost hear him say,
"No, ma'am, I won't ever."
-- Author Unknown
