I had another experience a few years later. I was sick and had been for days. I don’t know about you but when I’m down physically, I get down mentally. I hate to say “Something told me,” but that’s just exactly what happened. Something told me there was a blessing in the mailbox. So, what did I do? I went out and got the mail.
Among the envelopes was one from The Salesian Missions. I had donated to this cause for several years. I opened the envelope to find a little booklet filled with small poems of inspiration. The little book automatically opened to the middle where the booklet was stapled. The title of the poem on that page was GOD IS LOVE. Sound familiar? The words I saw at the church with the mirror as doors. The poem was beautiful. I turned one page back to find the poem LIFE’S MIRROR which said, “ Give to the world the best that you have and the best will come back to you. Give love and into your life love will flow”.. More conformation for “The Message On The Mirror.”
Once again, I’m going to remind you that I could not be more humble about these experiences. I know I’m only a messenger. I think God wants you to know these things. That’s why He has been after me to write this book. It’s really about you and Him. It’s no coincidence that you are reading this right now. I sincerely hope I’m playing a small part in helping to improve your relationship with Him.
Years passed as I continued to tell the story. You know how I get these strong impulses that I’m supposed to do something. Well, it happened again. After all of these years had passed, I’m talking maybe thirty, I was to find the little church, with the two mirrored doors, and share with the pastor what a significant role his church had played in piecing together “The Message On The Mirror.” How do I do this? The church is somewhere between Bloomington and Bloomfield. I don’t even know if it’s still there. When the prodding got so bad I couldn’t sleep at night, I had to do something about it. Because I remembered the name, I was able to get a phone number for the church.
One Sunday morning, I was able to make the call to inquire about their church service schedule, got in the car and headed for southern Indiana. I wasn’t sure who I would talk to or what I was going to say, but I knew I was on a mission. It certainly was an adventure, as well. The roads were familiar ones. Although there were many new additions, I recognized it as the same route I had taken so many times.. when my folks lived in that picturesque home in the hills of Green County.
As I drove along the winding roads, I felt the nerves coming on. What was I doing? Was I going to tell the whole story? If so, who would listen? Would they think I was some kind of a nut case. I must admit, sometimes even I thought I was.
There it was. The sign that said Mt. Zion Assembly of God Church three miles Underneath was an arrow pointing left. This time I turned without hesitation. As I prayed for “Holy boldness,” I approached the little white church. It was somewhat different than I remembered, yet, there was the “God Is Love” in the cement as I had included every time I told the story. I was disappointed to see that the mirrored doors had been replaced by glass doors at some point in time. I’d like to add that after my first visit to the church years before, I returned to make sure that the front doors were still mirrors. They were, so it wasn’t just my imagination. I actually attended the service one Sunday without saying a word. That was so many years earlier.
This Sunday, I entered the door after the service had ended. I sought out the pastor, introduced myself and asked him if he had a few minutes to spare. He and his wife sat down with me and I preceded to relate the entire story from beginning to end. I told him how thankful I was for his church and what an important part it had played in this inspiring and meaningful message. That I had talked about it and shared the role it had played every time I related the message, hundreds of times.
Tears rolled down his cheeks. God bless him. He told me he had been somewhat discouraged and depressed because he wasn’t sure that his church was making a significant difference in their community. I assured him that the impact they were able to have on my listeners could not be measured. And that they had been such a blessing to me and all who heard the message. He was overcome, at which time I knew why the Lord had sent me there.
He told me that one of his parishioners had told him the night before that somebody would come to bless the church that day and I can’t tell you how humble this made me feel. How did he know? I’ve gotten to where I don’t question any more. I just try to stay tuned in. I talk to the Lord constantly. Then I do what I feel lead to do. Even when I screw up, He usually fixes things for me. The pastor, his wife and I were all wiping our eyes before we finished talking. He asked if I’d like to stay for the evening service and I agreed to do so. After beginning the service he announced that they had a guest who had something to share with them. I remember thinking, “Are you serious? You’ve got to be kidding me. You are asking me to come up to that huge pulpit and tell this story to the entire congregation?” Dear God, I have never shared the message with more than one or two friends at a time. How in the world could I stand behind a pulpit and speak before an entire church. Thank Goodness, the crowd was not too large, I guess. I was shaking, my knees were knocking as I approached the vieas. I know my voice was quivering as I began to speak. I prayed, “God help me,” as I proceeded. As I got going, it became easier. I had told it so many times it began to flow. I told them what a privilege it was for me to be able to share with them and how much their church had meant to me through all of those years. They were very touched and thanked me for including them. I would never have gone back if the Lord hadn’t kept after me.
The Message On The Mirror 1971-2013
