I used to sit, Sunday after Sunday, in an adults' Sunday-school class that was led (not taught!) by a sweet old dear who read a passage from the Bible and then asked repeatedly "Anybody got any ideas on that?" One Sunday, I heard Another Voice say in my head "Ken, get My opinion ..."
So I really appreciated this story that I heard later:
A black Brother in Mississippi dearly loved the Lord and His believers but had no one nearby to fellowship with. He knew that he wouldn't be welcome in the only nearby church � whites-only Southern Baptist, the way I heard the story � but he went over there for every service anyway.
He'd hide in the brush until everybody was inside, then he'd sit below a window, from where he followed the scripture-readings in his Bible, heard the sermons, and sang the hymns along with those inside � always wishing, of course, that he could enjoy closer fellowship with those inside.
One Sunday, he felt an arm across his shoulders and looked up to find that Jesus was sitting beside him.
"Don't fret it," Jesus said. "I've tried to get into that place ever since they built it."
One of the chaplains at the proving ground was an ardent admirer of Robert Schuler and wanted to rase the chapel and build a new one � all-glass � patterned after the Crystal Cathedral. Fortunately, the Army wouldn't let him do that.
As the next-best thing, he junked the beautiful carved-oak double doors and replaced 'em with glass doors. The next Sunday, he was out front in his Schuler robe (the only time he was ever out there greeting people as we arrived) making sure that we all noticed his fine, new glass doors.
"Great, Gale!" I said. "Now God can see in."
Carol Anne elbowed me in the ribs and almost managed to kill her grin. She'd heard about the black Brother in Mississippi and knew what had inspired my remark, which sailed right over Gale's head.
.
