Think back to the decade of the 60s. Divorce was still a pretty dirty word ... even if it referred to the spouse who had been hurt."Well, she must have done something to make him leave."
"Those kids of hers - they probably caused it."
"You know what she is? She's a divorcee."
I was in elementary school at the time, but I heard it clearly enough. We weren't invited into many Hershey social circles. We were looked upon with pity by some, with disdain by others. Even as a child, I never felt that we were able to measure up. Most people simply gawked at the sight of my mom tugging along six little ones through the supermarket, library or Scout meetings.
And then there were the churches. Wow, how many did we attend?
Empty, empty. We could feel a distinct lack of counseling help for my mom. People would give her a sad grin, but nobody reached out to help. From one assembly to another we trod, wearing our second-hand clothes and puttering down the road in our VW bus. I distinctly remember that we felt uncomfortable in churches. People talked at us, not to us.
Then we attended the little church in Sand Beach, right outside of Hummelstown PA. Independent Bible Church of Sand Beach. So help me, I never did fidn the sand beach. But it didn't matter. We found some good folk. Real good folk.
From the first day, we were welcomed with open arms. Pastor Barry McClure and his family joined with the congregation to reach out to my mom's needs and see to the care of us little 'uns. (Believe it or not, I wore a bow-tie to church. A bow-tie!)
My mom took no high airs about this. She accepted the open arms and bags of food. She directed us to the little classes where each teacher had a personal concern for our physical and spiritual well-being.
We little kids got involved in everything. I remember we even helped shovel and carry bricks for the new wing you see in the picture above. I guess it's not new anymore. Brent and I - I guess we were in 3rd and 4th grade respectively - joined the choir for a Christmas cantata. What a blast. Neither of us could sing. I had no idea what a note was, but I held the songbook better than any one of the Three Tenors, baby.
I distinctly remember an elderly man (must have been in his 90s) who would hand out little sticks of gum to all of us every Sunday.
The friendships, the pot-luck dinners, the parties in the church basement, the outdoor evening events... the kindly people were open armed, waiting for us to walk toward them. And we did. I started learning about the love of God.
God is a God of Invitation. Take a look at Isaiah 1:18. Take a look at Isaiah 55:1. Didn't Jesus say "Come unto Me and I will give you rest?" And I also see that God invited Noah into the ark, where He was. Isn't that a great picture of salvation?
Best of all, look at Revelation 22:17. You know the qualifications for coming to Him? You must be thirsty and you must be willing. That's it. The loving families at Independent Bible Church of Sand Beach began to teach me that.
