A Word Fitly Spoken

Where is everybody tonight? I thought, as only a few people gathered for the Wednesday evening service. Later, from the pulpit my husband noted that some were absent for various reasons, and optimistically recalled his oft-repeated story of the “best” service he was ever in--when only 6 people were in attendance, and they had experienced a marvelous presence of the Holy Spirit. Well, there were five of us here, so that was encouraging.

It made me think of something I had read recently in a church publication that comes to our house. In one of the columns, a writer told the story of a deacon’s faithfulness. He said it was midweek service night at church, and a terrific snowstorm had moved in. The pastor couldn’t even get to the church, nor could his associate pastor. It looked as if it would be up to the deacon to deliver a sermon. He felt entirely inadequate, yet didn’t want the small number who had made it to church to miss the Word of God; so, shaking in his boots, he did his best, reading some scripture and applying some truths he felt God gave him.

At the altar call, a teenage boy who had stumbled in to take refuge from the snowstorm came forward, where “God opened his heart to the salvation message.” The faithful deacon, who had taken his text from Isaiah 45:22, had no way of knowing that the young seeker would turn out to be Charles Haddon Spurgeon, renowned preacher and author of the 19th century and still influential today.

One of the attendees last night was a lady I had never seen in midweek service before, and only sporadically on Sundays. Afterward, she lingered to talk, expressing her appreciation for the message. And a stranger showed up, too. Only God knows her felt needs and if they were met. We never know the impact we might have in a small act of obedience (which was my husband’s topic last night).

A few days ago, I had put in my blog a recounting of the story--this time by my daughter--of my grandson’s accident on a four-wheeler. Coming from his mother, it was especially moving. As I was scanning through the blogs yesterday, I noticed a comment on it that I hadn’t seen before. I quickly opened it (comments are much coveted by bloggers: for every one received, who knows how many actually read it?). It was not from any of the known followers, but from a stranger. He said he had placed a Google Alert to pick up on the phrase, “pleading the blood (of Jesus)” whenever it was mentioned in cyberspace. My daughter had told how her father had prayed for our children, “pleading the blood” over them each day, and how she made a practice of doing that for her own family. And it was flagged by this stranger, who often prayed that way, too!

That explained another comment I had received on a blog a couple of months back, this time from the North Carolina Department of Tourism! I had written about our trip through the beautiful mountains and mentioned stopping at an attraction in a certain town. The very polite and friendly comment said she, the Director of Tourism, enjoyed my story, but I had mistakenly identified a museum to be in the wrong town (actually across the street from the right city)! Evidently, her Google Alert had been for a key word pertaining to tourism.

I have always heard that the words we speak go out on sound waves which will continue forever--more conceivable now than ever before. May we say with the psalmist, “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer,” Psalm 19:14.