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> I saw him in the church building for the first time on
> Wednesday. He
> was in his mid-70's, with thinning silver gray hair and a neat
> brown
> suit.
>
> Many times in the past I had invited him to come. Several other
> Christian friends had talked about the Lord and had tried to
> share
> the good news with him. He was a well-respected, honest man with
> 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 ask
> him
> a few years ago. We had just finished a pleasant day 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 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 exciting! He had never heard
> such
> songs and stories before! He had never heard anyone read 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 the 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 arm around the dirty, ragged little boy and said "Son. I am
> 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 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 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 age. I could almost
> hear
> him say, "No, Ma'am, I won't ever."
>
> And I wept.
> Wednesday. He
> was in his mid-70's, with thinning silver gray hair and a neat
> brown
> suit.
>
> Many times in the past I had invited him to come. Several other
> Christian friends had talked about the Lord and had tried to
> share
> the good news with him. He was a well-respected, honest man with
> 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 ask
> him
> a few years ago. We had just finished a pleasant day 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 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 exciting! He had never heard
> such
> songs and stories before! He had never heard anyone read 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 the 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 arm around the dirty, ragged little boy and said "Son. I am
> 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 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 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 age. I could almost
> hear
> him say, "No, Ma'am, I won't ever."
>
> And I wept.
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