NO ROOM ON THE PEW

By Colly Caldwell

   She brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7).

   This is another of those descriptions surrounding the birth of Jesus. We sometimes focus on this verse because of the pathos or compassion it evokes when considering any woman, perhaps especially the mother of Jesus, having her child in difficult circumstances and finding no appropriate place.

   I was recently made aware of a modern story about a young couple in Colorado who went to a church service on Christmas Eve. Norma was nine months pregnant and they had not been worshipping since marrying because John had doubts about the very existence of God. Even so, facing the birth experience, Norma wanted to return to her upbringing and pray in a church.

   When they came up the front steps, the tiny building was crowded. Everyone was standing to sing one of the hymns and there was no place to sit. The husband tapped the shoulder of the man on the back pew to request that his wife be allowed to sit there, thinking surely seeing the condition of his wife, the man would gladly give up his seat. But he ignored him, kept right on singing, and everyone in the nearby pews kept their heads down acting as if they were unaware of what was transpiring. It was too much for this young agnostic.  John said something that was probably more fitting for a fan angry at an umpire than for a worshiper, grabbed the arm of his wife, and quickly ushered her out to the car.

   Now what do you think of that? How easy it is to be in our own little world when we come to worship. How awkward is speaking to strangers to some. How difficult it is to give up our comfortable position to accommodate the needs of others. And yet how unloving such would be. We would never allow ourselves to be like that would we? But what if they don’t tap us on the shoulder, they are not expecting a baby any moment, and we are not crowded today? Do we notice our visitors, those who are looking for a good place to worship or those who have come our way perhaps even to find answers to their questions about God and the Bible? Do we go out of our way to make them feel welcome? Well, I am so happy to say that almost all of us do those hospitable things at Citrus Park. What a blessing.

   Leaving the church, the young man was furious. He launched into a tirade about how hypocritical and how rude Christians really are. I suppose the ones he had encountered were just there because it was Christmas Eve and were a lot like he was…uncommitted. At any rate, he was so upset that he went too fast, hit a slick spot, and ran off the road into a ditch covered by a snow bank. At first, he could move his truck forward a little and then back. But the right rear wheel sank in and even his four-wheel-drive would not pull him out. He got out in the cold to look and said a few more words when he realized he would have to go for help. Upon reopening the door to tell his wife, he discovered that she had gone into labor and was about to  deliver. She had experienced some discomfort all evening, but since it was her first time, she had been uncertain. Now she had to get to the hospital.

   John did not know what to do. Should he go for help? This was before cell phones. Should he try harder to get their Chevy pickup free? Should he stay with her and deliver their child? Fortunately, the tank was full and they could stay warm inside though they had not worn their heavy coats to church. And so, in those cramped environs, their little boy was born.

   Under any circumstance, the arrival of a new life brings one face-to-face with matters beyond comprehension. Perhaps it was the uncertainty and darkness, the fear and pain,  the knowledge that his wife’s life was in the balance, the tiny yet perfectly formed being he held for the first time in his arms, that moved John to think again about God and to know that his life was changed forever.

   But perhaps it was also something else. Within minutes of wrapping the child in the navy blazer he had worn that evening, the brilliant beam of auto headlights struck their fogged-over windows and Grandpa Johnson, coming home from church, stopped to help. Quickly he trans-formed himself into an emergency medical technician and his Camry into an ambulance. Some of the nurses at the hospital had just returned from the worship to take the late shift so that others could be home with their children. With amazing enthusiasm they made every moment a joyful experience until Norma and John finally fell asleep at 4:30 am. Even the night-watchman brought the baby his first gift, a small baseball glove.

   I wish I could tell you that John was a dedicated Christian today. I don’t know the end of the story. But I know he saw both sides of “Christians” that night. How do I fit in as an influence upon others not even seen by me but present in my life? That’s mine to consider. It is also mine to do something about.