I Was Lost and You Were in a Hurry
I attended your services on Sunday. You wouldn’t remember me. I was there looking for something — I think I would have found it if you had not been in such a hurry. You sang hymns about a loving Lord. I felt a tight choking sensation, and my heart beat faster. Your preacher’s message was thrilling. I realized I was lost and from the way he spoke, it seemed important to have a Savior.
The preacher finished his appeal and asked you to stand and sing another of those beautiful songs you know so well. I swallowed a lump in my throat and wished I knew the joy of which you sang. I was about to answer the call of the Gospel, when I heard a buzzing beside me. When I looked around, you were picking up toys and telling your children to get ready to leave. In front of me were whisperers and gigglers. A couple had already headed for the door. Beside me, you were frowning at your watch as if time were running out.
Seeing what I saw, I didn’t want to look anymore. My eyes burned, my throat hurt, my feet wouldn’t walk down the aisle. I could see that you really didn’t care. This salvation the preacher had been telling about was not as important to you as getting out “on time.” I only wanted to get away. I waited until services were over and walked out among you — alone unnoticed — and lost. Lost, because you were in a hurry. Lost, because it appeared you didn't really care if I was saved.
“Seeing the people, [Jesus] felt compassion for them, because they were distressed and dispirited like sheep without a shepherd.” (Matthew 9.36)