This is something I wrote several years ago. There is a chinese website that keeps it up. So I thought I would retrieve a copy of it to share again with you lovely people.
A TRUE WORSHIPPER and A FATHERLESS CHILD
Last Sunday after Sunday School, I walked through the halls shaking hands with my Christian friends and made my way to the main auditorium for the church service. I shook hands and took my usual place in front of the two elderly sisters which always sit behind us. The week before they had leaned forward to complain confidentially to my wife about the church service using too many choruses and not enough hymnal pieces. As I remember, my wife had just smiled and said she understood, and later turned to nudge me, knowing I prefer the choruses over the hymnal. Today she must have been delayed by someone in the hall after Sunday School and I sat alone briefly waiting for her.
Halfway down the pew in front of me sat a little blond girl, probably about three years old, and her mother to the right. Having a four year-old girl myself, I felt it was my duty to wave to the active child, and give her a smile. Instantly, the cherub face disappeared toward her mother, but not before giving me a studied look of embarrassment and curiosity. I sat back against the pew and glanced around to see who else has attended church. One of the sisters, I never can remember their names, leaned forward to get my attention. She said, "That little girl’s father died right before she was born." I said, "What?" The smiling sister continued, "I think it was a tumor or something but that's right, he died before she was born." I looked towards the front of the church and then towards the small girl again. She was looking everywhere and seemed to be having a good time while staying within arm's reach of her mother. On impulse, I slid down a few feet on the pew and said hello to her mother and mentioned that her little one was a little bashful. Her mother smiled and agreed and told me her daughter’s name. I said that I had a little girl that had just turned four and waved again and slid back to my spot in front of the sisters.
My wife came in and greeted me and the sisters. I looked forward to a good worship service. As far as I could remember, we had arrived for church on time. No one in the family had an argument before church. The church and I felt like one of those Sundays when God was going to show up. If He didn't right off, then we would praise him with all the love we had until the Lord could not resist the adoration of his saints. With this anticipation resting on my heart, I turned to my wife and asked her if she knew the lady with the daughter. She searched her memory, shook her head, and said she didn't think so.
The singing began and we were just starting to heat up to true praise when the song leader said to shake hands with at least 15 people. I shook a couple of hands and then turned in the direction of the lady and her daughter. The small girl was looking right at me. I thought I would risk rejection again and lifted my hand to her along with my raised questioning eyebrows. Slowly, the little angel's hand came up and I took it and gave it the softest warm embrace I could muster. I felt accomplished and thanked God. The praise began again and it was just as good as I had expected. I do like to praise my God, and if you do not mind I will pause right here in my story to do exactly that. Blessed be my Lord. I do love my Jesus. And since I take it for granted that you who are reading have accepted Jesus as your Savior, I also love and praise the Jesus you know. We love Jesus as He becomes personal to ourselves. One step up is to love and praise Jesus as the personal friend He is to the others we meet.
It wasn't too far into the preaching that the child had to be picked up by her mother for moving around too much. Slowly her mother rocked her in her lap until she finally succumbed to a mother's presence and began to drift to sleep. Somewhat loudly the little girl betrayed her dreams and called out, "Daddy, daddy". Her mother switched her to the other side of her lap and the little girl called again, "Daddy." Her mother began to rise to take her out of church, but then the little girl was asleep and her mother stayed. A timeless moment engraved upon the inside of my heart. Jesus loves that little girl. And He walked right through my heart that Sunday morning to be with that little girl.
Many may feel that men believe in a plural home for many of their own motives. But in that moment I realized that God leads to plural beliefs for motives of his own. One such motive is that He just wants to love the fatherless.
A TRUE WORSHIPPER and A FATHERLESS CHILD
Last Sunday after Sunday School, I walked through the halls shaking hands with my Christian friends and made my way to the main auditorium for the church service. I shook hands and took my usual place in front of the two elderly sisters which always sit behind us. The week before they had leaned forward to complain confidentially to my wife about the church service using too many choruses and not enough hymnal pieces. As I remember, my wife had just smiled and said she understood, and later turned to nudge me, knowing I prefer the choruses over the hymnal. Today she must have been delayed by someone in the hall after Sunday School and I sat alone briefly waiting for her.
Halfway down the pew in front of me sat a little blond girl, probably about three years old, and her mother to the right. Having a four year-old girl myself, I felt it was my duty to wave to the active child, and give her a smile. Instantly, the cherub face disappeared toward her mother, but not before giving me a studied look of embarrassment and curiosity. I sat back against the pew and glanced around to see who else has attended church. One of the sisters, I never can remember their names, leaned forward to get my attention. She said, "That little girl’s father died right before she was born." I said, "What?" The smiling sister continued, "I think it was a tumor or something but that's right, he died before she was born." I looked towards the front of the church and then towards the small girl again. She was looking everywhere and seemed to be having a good time while staying within arm's reach of her mother. On impulse, I slid down a few feet on the pew and said hello to her mother and mentioned that her little one was a little bashful. Her mother smiled and agreed and told me her daughter’s name. I said that I had a little girl that had just turned four and waved again and slid back to my spot in front of the sisters.
My wife came in and greeted me and the sisters. I looked forward to a good worship service. As far as I could remember, we had arrived for church on time. No one in the family had an argument before church. The church and I felt like one of those Sundays when God was going to show up. If He didn't right off, then we would praise him with all the love we had until the Lord could not resist the adoration of his saints. With this anticipation resting on my heart, I turned to my wife and asked her if she knew the lady with the daughter. She searched her memory, shook her head, and said she didn't think so.
The singing began and we were just starting to heat up to true praise when the song leader said to shake hands with at least 15 people. I shook a couple of hands and then turned in the direction of the lady and her daughter. The small girl was looking right at me. I thought I would risk rejection again and lifted my hand to her along with my raised questioning eyebrows. Slowly, the little angel's hand came up and I took it and gave it the softest warm embrace I could muster. I felt accomplished and thanked God. The praise began again and it was just as good as I had expected. I do like to praise my God, and if you do not mind I will pause right here in my story to do exactly that. Blessed be my Lord. I do love my Jesus. And since I take it for granted that you who are reading have accepted Jesus as your Savior, I also love and praise the Jesus you know. We love Jesus as He becomes personal to ourselves. One step up is to love and praise Jesus as the personal friend He is to the others we meet.
It wasn't too far into the preaching that the child had to be picked up by her mother for moving around too much. Slowly her mother rocked her in her lap until she finally succumbed to a mother's presence and began to drift to sleep. Somewhat loudly the little girl betrayed her dreams and called out, "Daddy, daddy". Her mother switched her to the other side of her lap and the little girl called again, "Daddy." Her mother began to rise to take her out of church, but then the little girl was asleep and her mother stayed. A timeless moment engraved upon the inside of my heart. Jesus loves that little girl. And He walked right through my heart that Sunday morning to be with that little girl.
Many may feel that men believe in a plural home for many of their own motives. But in that moment I realized that God leads to plural beliefs for motives of his own. One such motive is that He just wants to love the fatherless.