Impromptu gatherings of the children of God

Much planning and preparation go into perfecting the myriad Christian retreats and conferences, but I love the impromptu gatherings in life. In waiting rooms, in dog parks, or on an airplane, two or three sojourners who were strangers till a moment ago discover they are brother and sister, children of the same Father, evacuees of the kingdom of darkness by the same grace operation of the living God.

I was visiting my neighbor at the hospital on Sunday, and she was telling me about her trepidation as she anticipated the removal of her tubes, and even the tape affixing them to her body. We laughed when she said that two doctors had been in her room at the same time, and she had quizzed them, “Which one of you is more gentle?” And the taller doctor immediately pointed to his colleague and said, “He is.” So she said, “Then you’re the one I want to take out my tubes.”

To allay her embarrassment at having been afraid, I told her that even Jesus was afraid in the garden of Gethsemane before He was crucified. She, a woman of Catholic background, added the details that Jesus had sweat blood and asked His Father if the cup of suffering could pass Him by.

At some point in our conversation, a woman swept into the room behind a floor mop and made a quick pass around the linoleum and under the bed. When she overheard our subject of discussion she chimed in with what sounded like a Caribbean accent that she, for one, was glad He had died for her sins. Then she swept out of the room as suddenly as she had entered, down the hall and out of our lives, presumably to the next patient’s quarters.

Sometimes, as I go about my business around town, I feel like Elijah 10 minutes after the Mount Carmel episode—like a solitary believer outnumbered 850 to 1: “I, even I only, am left.” We know what God responded to the prophet to disabuse him of his slightly self-piteous dejection: “Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.”

They’re everywhere! The children of God are mixed in among that faceless crowd of people you see every day, reading newspapers at the café, behind badges directing traffic, checking out your book at the local library. And every once in a while we have the pleasure of a moment of communion—unexpected, unplanned, spontaneous, delightful—before melting back into the world where it is hoped we will go on to be its salt and light.