Just six of us, with me as pastor, were trying to revive a 139-year-old Congregational church. People scoffed. No one had worshiped there for 22 years, they said, and besides, it was summer, when even established churches had low attendance. Where would the people come from?
Even so, getting ready for our first service, we set out 80 folding chairs. After we asked God to bless our efforts, Shirley Krohn said, “Remember the Bible story where the poor widow asks the prophet Elisha for help?”
I remembered the story. The widow is in debt; her only possession is a little pot of oil. Elisha tells her to collect all the empty containers in the village and pour oil into them from her pot. Every vessel is filled. She sells the oil and pays her creditors.
“If the Lord filled all those vessels with oil,” said Shirley stoutly, “why can’t He fill these eighty chairs with people?”
“Or why can’t He fill even more chairs?” someone cried impetuously.
So, after dusty attics and storage sheds were scoured, we had 105 chairs set out, the most that would fit in the room—which left me more apprehensive than ever.
On Sunday the weather was perfect for golf and the beach, but at ten o’clock the cars started appearing. In the Bible story, when all the vessels were full, the oil stopped pouring. On this day, when the room filled up, the cars stopped coming. And then the ushers brought me a note: “One hundred and three chairs are filled; the two of us will sit in the two empty seats.”
Exactly 105 people for 105 chairs. Yes, He does hear—and answer. Mysteriously. Lovingly. And sometimes, I believe, smilingly.
