Our last Sabbath in a church building, just before our conference churches closed for Coronavirus season, was unforgettable. We had planned to visit a rural sister church to take in a special choir program by our favorite academy. We expected a high Sabbath filled with beautiful music and fellowship with friends and relatives. God had something even better in mind—an unexpected reunion.
On Friday, we learned the choir had succumbed to the Coronavirus traveling restrictions and would be staying home. We had already scheduled ourselves away so we planned to enjoy the Sabbath getaway, whatever the program.
Sabbath dawned cold and rainy, but we were undeterred. We arrived as the Sabbath School lesson study was beginning. The sanctuary class was especially interesting and well-planned. The panel of teachers passed microphones and engaged class members nicely. I was following the Daniel 10 study in my Bible and quarterly.
Suddenly, my attention was diverted by a man’s un-whispered voice behind me. “...They used to be my neighbors...” The strangely familiar voice went on and on. Who could it be?
I glanced over my shoulder and was shocked to see a familiar face. I can’t believe it! That’s Grandpa Nick, our long-lost, non-Adventist neighbor. And he’s talking to a woman I have never seen. Who is she? I poked my husband to share the news, but he had already spotted him.
After class was over, we mobbed our old friend. “It’s so good to see you again! We’ve missed you! Are you staying for lunch?” And we asked our church friends, “How did he come here? Did you know he used to live next to us? He was like a grandpa to our son.”
We filled their ears with happy memories, and they explained to us about Grandpa Nick’s poor hearing aids, and their using microphones for his benefit, and how much they had grown to love him, too. I could hardly wait for lunchtime. Dear God, please let today’s program be just what he needs.
The church service was beautiful and so encouraging. Blessed assembly! It would be our last for some weeks. After a thrilling postlude, we moved to the fellowship hall for potluck preparation.
Kitchen helpers were extra clean and careful. The haystack meal would be served to guests. All servers wore gloves. Hand sanitizers by the plates reminded all to be germ-free, if possible. We busied ourselves catching up with our former neighbor. What adventures had he had since moving away?
As our neighbor, he had fought against heart disease and diabetes. He then made the emotion-laden decision to sell the family cabin and move to a less-rugged property. Then came the agonizing breakup of his home. We had become very close in those dark times. After he moved away, then moved again, we lost touch. We had missed him sorely.
“Grandpa Nick, have you ever had a haystack?” I asked as we went through the lunch line. His eyes shone as he nodded the affirmative. But I noticed he didn’t get any beans.
“You know, the beans are like the meat in this dish,” I explained. “Don’t you want some?”
“It’s not about the beans. It’s the corn chips,” he enthused. Okay, okay. He won’t starve here.
As we chomped our haystacks we swapped stories and shared neighborhood news. There was much to catch up on from the last half decade. Our dear friend had some questions for us, too. “Do you still attend that Sabbath church in Clinton?” So he remembered. “Do they have a meal?” And he grinned again.
Nick had worshipped with several denominations over the years. As we got acquainted with his wife Ruby, his “answer to prayer,” we learned the story of their transition to Adventist worship, the story of a chain of Adventist relatives, neighbors and Good Samaritans spanning several decades. Recently married, this couple had been attending our sister church for months, and were thriving on godly fellowship while soaking up Bible prophecy. And we had no idea...
“He never misses a Sabbath,” we were told. “When something comes up to keep his wife away, he comes by himself.” Just think of that! Would that all God’s saints were so faithful.
“...and think to change times and laws” now came out of Nick’s mouth with ease and a knowing nod during our mealtime chat. He was now rethinking all he had learned in other churches in light of clear Bible teachings. When my husband asked what Nick and Ruby thought about Adventist teachings, their response was favorable. What if we had stayed home today? We would have missed God’s surprise!
We swapped stories. We reminisced about the past. We heard how God had brought healing and strength, deliverance and joy to Nick’s life. I had never seen him smile so much and talk so volubly.
The Coronavirus agitation fled nearly from our minds, though we did accept the proffered take-home herbal remedy and handout, just in case. The lunch crowd thinned, then disappeared. Finally, it was time to go.
“Grandpa Nick, we have missed you so much. We are so glad to see you again. Please come visit us. Please keep in touch,” I effused, as he bumped our shoulders (No hugs allowed these days!) to say goodbye.
“I remembered you were Sabbath...Seventh-day Adventists,” he drawled. I figured you’d show up here sometime.”
We try to make friends with all our neighbors. Some become almost like family; some don’t. A quote on my refrigerator nudges me to invest in these precious lives:
“Visit your neighbors in a friendly way, and become acquainted with them….Those who do not take up this work will soon lose their first love, and will begin to censure, criticize, and condemn their own brethren,” (The Review and Herald, May 13, 1902).
“And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd” (John 10:16).
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