As I was walking down the road the other day with two other individuals, the topic of our conversation turned to religion, a subject I was not expecting to come up. One of these individuals stated that the church that he went to was very large, in fact the biggest, most attended church in the area. “We have over 600 people every Sunday morning,” he exclaimed, “and my goodness, do they know how to sing. The ceilings are almost sixty feet high and the voices just bounce off of them, and we just had them painted by a very fine artist, it looks just like we imagine the sky in heaven must look like. Our church is in the finest part of town, and all the best people attend regularly.”
As he spoke, I thought of the two-room little house that the 20 people, which included myself and my three children attended, almost all of us are just getting by, but every need that we have is always met by the great provisions of the Lord our God.
As we continued our short walk, one which I should mention I was not exactly invited to accompany these gentlemen on, we just happened to be going the same way when I joined them, the other man started to speak. “Well,” he said, “That sounds like a wonderful church, but let me tell you about the church I attend, one not only my beautiful wife and I have been going to our entire lives, but also may father and grandfather.”
As he spoke those words, my mind returned to the moment that I received the letter that informed me that my mother and father had been killed on the mission field by those they were trying to bring the good news of Jesus Christ to, but it did not seem like a good time to bring this up.
“My church,” he continued, “is the oldest church in town, and has some of the oldest, most respected families in the area attending it. Not only some of the oldest families, but the richest, why, we have nearly ten thousand dollars a week coming into the offering plate, and nearly all of it goes right back into the building fund.”
When he mentioned that it reminded me that I needed to stop at one of our church members homes, for he had said that he knew of an abandoned building in town and the owner said that if we took the old windows out of it, we could have them for free. A blessing from God indeed.
“Yes, yes, I understand completely,” the other man replied, “we also have a wonderful building fund, and we just gave our pastor a five-thousand dollar a year raise. We decided to lower our giving to the missions fund, it just seemed like a waste of good money.”
“I totally agree,” the other man replied, “we also have cut way back on our churches giving, we thought the money could better be used for a new parking lot. Nearly everyone drives a new vehicle to church, and we don’t want anyone getting their car doors scratched.”
“And you my friend,” one of them said to me, “tell us about your church.” I wanted to tell them how nearly all of those that came to our little church either walked there, for they had no vehicle, how that we were blessed just the other day by someone who gave us an old van that barely ran, but one of our members works at a small mechanic shop and has volunteered his time to repair it. I wanted to tell them how a small business owner had given us some extra paint he had and how we were all going to get together and paint the inside of the church this weekend, even the ceiling, and then enjoy the fellowship of each other’s company over food that we would all bring from our meager supplies at home. I wanted to invite them to come and listen to our pastor, a man called by God to lead in the nourishment of His wonderful word, and that he did it without any pay.
But all I said to these gentlemen was, “We are few, but we are faithful.”
As I bid them good day, my heart swelled with love for those in our little church, my brothers and sisters that I knew for a fact would receive a glorious welcome from the Lord Jesus Christ when we finally arrived home, and how on that day all the trials, tribulations and sufferings we had been blessed here with would seem as nothing when the face of our Savior we finally get to see. As I picked up my pace, a smile grew on my face and love grew in my heart for those I would soon see, and the fellowship we would enjoy in our Lord.
