Let's Go Back to the Bible

Sherman’s Story – A Lesson for All of Us

The Sunday morning that Sherman responded during the invitation song will be remembered for a long time by those who were present.  That little country church building had been there for generations and was showing its wear:  discolored windows, rotting doors and a hollow-sounding wooden floor that made for noisy assemblies.

With the congregation singing “Just As I Am,” the old man stepped out from his seat and started down the center aisle to the front.  Interestingly, no one in this small, close-knit congregation had ever seen him before that morning.  Who was this Sherman fellow?  This 84-year-old widower shuffled his feet all the way down the aisle, but the sound that stuck in the worshiper’s memories for years was the tap-tap-tap-tap of Sherman’s metal-tipped cane on that hollow wooden floor.

The preacher slowly escorted the elderly man to the front pew and asked why he had come.  He listened intently through the rest of song, visibly intrigued by whatever the man was saying.  At the conclusion of the hymn, the preacher did something very unusual for him—he introduced Sherman to the congregation and then handed the mic over to let Sherman tell his story.  Here’s what he shared:

“I was baptized in this church when I was 12, right out there in that creek.  I remember this building when it was in much better shape.  I attended here with my parents until I was 16, and I never came back…until today.  Here’s why.

“One Sunday, while walking home from church (we didn’t have a car), I was throwing rocks at the ducks in the pond and kicking up dust onto my sister’s dress.  My parents were talking, rather animatedly, but they didn’t think I was paying attention.  Like most parents, they didn’t realize how much kids pick up on things, almost instinctively.  I can vividly, even to this day, hear my mother sniping to my father, ‘What is wrong with this church?  That was the worst mistake ever!’  Then, again, later that night, when I was supposed to be asleep in bed, I heard them talking again:  ‘Maybe we should just take our membership somewhere else.  If they can’t make better decisions than that, then…’

“The ‘mistake,’ believe it or not, had something to do with the entry steps right outside this front door.  That was it!    Not such a big deal in retrospect!  But, my parents’ angry comments about the church and the elders made an impression on me, so much so that I gave up on the church at a young age and never looked back.  Until yesterday, when my sister died.  She also became disenchanted and left the church…for good.

“I don’t blame the church anymore or any of those men.  I was the one who was wrong.  My parents were wrong in how they handled it.  If He will, I beg God to forgive me.”