My mother never knew her father. Raised by a single mother, she was living in Ashland, AL in 1946. Her mom, Grandmother Lewis, had moved back to Ashland from Birmingham when she lost her defense contractor job after WWII ended.
Country singer Miranda Lambert sings about the lack of privacy in small towns, saying, “Whether you’re late for church, or you’re stuck in jail, hey word’s gonna get around. Everybody dies famous in a small town.” In my mom’s small town, everyone certainly knew that she was the girl who didn’t know the identity of her father.
One Sunday at First Baptist Church, Ashland, the pastor gave a public invitation to believe on Christ, and my mother came forward and gave her life to Christ. After the service, two women I will not know until I am in heaven took my mom aside in a small room off of the auditorium to give her Christian counsel. Their words were something to this effect, “We know people in this town are talking about you because you don’t know your father, but we want you to know that Jesus doesn’t see you that way.” I believe these two women were unusually sensitive to the leadership of the Holy Spirit in the counsel they gave my mom. I am eternally thankful for a pastor who gave an invitation and two Christian women concerned to help a thirteen year old girl who came to church by herself and was the topic of town gossip.
As time goes by, my mom and dad met and got married. My dad had attended church off and on, but had never been converted to Christ. After dad completed his Air Force basic training, he went to school for aircraft mechanics at Lackland Air Force Base. A Christian layman was working as a civilian employee for the Air Force, training the young Airmen. This unknown layman invited my dad to a chili supper his church was having. At that supper, the pastor shared a brief Gospel message, and encouraged any of the men present who wanted to trust Christ to see him afterwards. My dad approached the pastor, and in the pastor’s study my dad gave his life to Christ. Dad was transferred to Savannah soon afterwards, and was baptized at Bull Street Baptist. I do not know the name of the church in San Antonio where dad came to faith in Christ, but I am thankful for them.
Philemon 1:6 says, “I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective for the full knowledge of every good thing that is in us for the sake of Christ.” (ESV) This Thanksgiving, I’m especially thankful for pastors and lay members I do not know who effectively shared Christ with my parents. I deeply hope churches today will regain evangelistic concern so that more may come to know Christ.
I’m Thankful for the Churches Who Led My Parents to Christ