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,
unpatched 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."
And I
wept.
(Author Known To God)