It started with an offer of apples.
Sometime in Montreal in the late 1920s, my Grandma and her sisters
came home and told their mother that there was this church group that
was offering apples to kids, and could they take one? My
great-grandmother said yes. I don't quite know why. Having spent most
of her younger years impoverished in London, England, she hated to be
seen as a charity case. Maybe she was having an indulgent day. Maybe
she had grown up knowing how terrible scurvy could be. Maybe she just
liked apples. But for whatever reason, she said, “yes” – as
long as they also went to the church's program. They were not to
simply receive a handout without hearing what these people had to
say.
Strictly speaking, these young ladies
were not conversions for the Alliance church. They never joined that
church, and they were already Christians. But in the Church of Christ
at Verdun, there were very few people the age of my Grandma and her
sisters. There were older people in the church whom my Grandma
respected. There were many children and youth in their thriving
Sunday School program whom she loved and taught. But there was no one
her own age: no peers, and no real youth ministry for her age group.
My Grandma learned and grew in valuable
ways in the Verdun church. It was there that she came to Christ. It
was there that she began a lifetime of Sunday School teaching. It was
there that she developed a pattern of throwing herself wholeheartedly
into whatever service was before her. But while Grandma speaks often
of Verdun, if anything she speaks even more of her time in the youth
group of the Alliance Church. Despite the many years, she still
remembers their names and their kindness, their songs and their
evangelistic zeal. She learned to minister in Verdun, but she was
ministered to by the Alliance.
We talk a lot today about evangelism:
how to do it well, not corny, not pushy, not hesitant. How to be
friendly, genuine, intentional, caring, and respectful. Maybe we
overthink it. Maybe we just need to do something – and it doesn't
have to be big. Maybe we just need to offer something – and it
doesn't have to be expensive. Although I expect apples had more value
in 1920s Montreal, I don't expect they had to remortgage the church
building, either. Perhaps we should identify what an apple would be
to the people around us, and take it from there.
One more thing: you're not a failure
because people don't join your church. Those youth leaders of the
Alliance church, who I am sure lamented the loss of a lovely young
woman when she left their youth group, never knew this side of glory
the profound impact they would have on this woman, who even after all
this time speaks of them with the utmost fondness and respect. And it
all started with an offer of apples.
Too often, I hear church leaders lament that people have left or that their numbers aren't high. But their churches are touching people and when those people move on, a piece of that church moves with them. When you think of it that way... That's awesome!
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