Graveyard Evangelism

Most folks around these parts have heard more than once the story of the guy who staggers out of a bar late one night and decides to walk through the graveyard on his way home.  In his stupor he stumbles into a freshly dug grave that has been left waiting for its occupant the next day.  As the light pours into the hole, he wakes up and as he frantically climbs out he comes to know the Lord.  An unbeliever now a  believer.  As quick as the Damascus Road.  Not knowing what else to do, he started meeting his old drinking buddies at the bar and after they had more than a few, he would lead them to some freshly dug grave waiting for a new convert.

 

There is a bit of the mindset of the fellow in the story in many of us.  We do things like we started out doing them.  If something worked for us, surely it will work for someone else.  All we need to do is get them to the right graveyard, the right altar, the right book, or to the right preacher.  If we can, what happened with us will surely happen with them.  So, I think sometimes that what the world needs is what I had growing up.  If everyone could grow up in the church with Christian parents who made sure they went to church morning and night (yes, night, too) and they sang those old songs of the faith like I did over and over for all their growing up years, they would be just fine.  Surely, singing all those old songs a thousand times would shape them as they have me.

 

But, like you know, it does not work like we want it to work.  I am not against the contemporary songs sung in so many places, I just happen to one of those who believe in the power of repetition.  If we do something often enough, it has a way of becoming a part of who we are.  Those old songs I learned to love shaped my life, prepared me for an adult faith response, and have nurtured me through many a stormy moment.  I just think sometimes that it should be like that for everyone, but, of course, such is not reality, just a longing in my soul.