Gospel Mission

A whole bunch of years ago our family went monthly to the Gospel Mission with ten or twelve other Presbyterians, bringing fixings for dinner. We would first meet in the chapel leading songs, and Bible passages, and one of us would give a short lesson.

The chapel was always nearly filled. We had revival songs, repeating favorites each time. A few in attendance would make short statements, and our Joe would close with a general prayer. We served the meal, ate dinner with the group, and conversed with them. We felt that we were achieving something for the folks attending. Also, the staff really welcomed us.


But I got a jolt the evening I was the one who presented the message.

The evening had gone well from the beginning: enthusiastic singing, several prayer offerings, good responses to the Scripture reading. My turn came to present the text and its message, and I could feel the warmth among the audience. I decided to make it short and succinct, and so I waded into it.


As I closed, I heard several sotto voce "Amen" murmurs. Delighted, I didn't just stop. I invited them to come to our church on Sunday.


Some among the congregation nodded, murmuring "Amen."


But, from the roughly dozen church brothers and sisters seated at the front, there were several audible gasps. One woman was now looking up at me with her face expressing sheer panic.


I was never asked to present another lesson.