Sunday night was graduation at our church. This happens about once a month. We live in an unusual community, and our congregation includes a couple hundred people who are in discipleship programs for recovery from alcohol, drugs, or some other life-controlling issue.
It struck me again how unusual we are. One of the graduates made a few remarks in which he thanked several people for their support. He included his long-suffering sister. “And I thank the Lord Jesus Christ for my sister… sorry about when I stole your car that one time.”
We all chuckled, and he went right on with his great testimony. I realized such a statement might seem shocking in many settings. But it is part of the package where we live. We really are a rag-tab lot, many of whom the world was ready to throw away.
After the men left the stage, our pastor asked everyone who had graduated from one of the programs in the past to please stand. Forty people rose. They are department heads, community leaders, businessmen and women, fathers, mothers, spouses, students and ministers.
It was one of those moments that makes getting up the next day seem worthwhile. And I realized when I looked around how grateful I am to be counted in their number. I could stand on the stage, too, and say, “And I’m sorry about that time I…”
You gotta love those what-you-see is what-you-get sort of people. It's so easy not to be that kind of person when you're in the church.