Looking back on my childhood, the church I attended was not the happiest place or group I had known. There seemed to be a lot of animosity among the older members, who did not get along well. Compared with people I knew in the community, there was little difference between churchgoers and non-churchgoers, and that confused me.
In college, I had to complete Field School in Evangelism as a graduation requirement. We were assigned to work with an evangelist, apparently to learn how to conduct evangelistic meetings. I was placed with an evangelist holding meetings in Wisconsin. One of my roommates and I traveled together and arrived Thursday evening for orientation. Our first instructional session was Friday morning, and that afternoon we began visiting people.
One couple I remember was Mr. Emil and Mrs. Hernandez. She was a church member, but he was not. We arrived at their home late that afternoon. She seemed very kind, though the church pastor had warned us that she was not as sweet as she appeared. Her husband was showering, and she asked us to wait until he came out because she wanted him to meet us. After about 20 minutes, she excused herself and went down the hallway. We heard an argument, and a few minutes later she returned and told us he had been waiting for us to leave. She had taken his clothes and told him he had to come out and meet us. What an introduction.
A few minutes later, he came into the living room, dropped into an easy chair, and glowered at us. “Hello, Mr. Hernandez. We’re so glad to meet you. We’d like to invite you to a wonderful meeting this evening.” He grumbled that he did not want to walk anywhere or listen to anyone except Billy Graham. We encouraged him to give our evangelist a chance, and after about half an hour he finally said, “I give him a chance.” “Thank you, Mr. Hernandez. We promise you won’t be disappointed.”
When we arrived at the meeting hall, we asked our receptionist—a Southern belle—to turn on the charm, and she did. The Hernandez’s were the first to arrive. Mr. Hernandez stomped past her, went straight to the back row on the center aisle, sat down, crossed his arms, and glared ahead. “Well,” we told each other and our receptionist, “we all did our best.”
The next night, they were back, and our Belle managed to slow Mr. Hernandez and his rate of travel through the entrance.
Two weeks went by. By then, our receptionist had managed to stop Mr. Hernandez as she showered him with attention. Mrs. Hernandez, however, we could tell, wasn’t the most pleased with the attention her husband was receiving. He, however, was delighted. Leave it to a Southern Belle.
That evening, the evangelist made an altar call. Mr. Emil Hernandez was the first on his feet, stomping to the front where he sat down and crossed his arms. Two weeks later, I saw him baptized. Incredible.
I visited him later and found him to be one of the sweetest men I’d ever known. He had been transformed into a true Christian. Mrs. Hernandez, however, was about the same. Having grown up in a church where no one ever changed—kind of like Mrs. H—I was so surprised to see someone who actually changed: it was possible!
Tell me, are you still the same, or have you, too, like Emil, been changed? What made the difference? Jesus. You need to give your heart to Jesus and put your faith in Him and His marvelous grace. Just ask him to forgive and cleanse you. Trust Him: He will transform you.