The Invitation

Loitering in the street of a small village on a Sunday evening was a group of young men, and I was one of them. It did not matter to any of us that it was the Lord’s day, for we thought it was our day to be free. It was our day of rest, since we had worked hard all week. We saw no harm in a little relaxation, either by going to our favorite tavern or by taking a walk through the fields.

It was six o’clock, but at that moment we could not decide what we wanted to do. Three of us were for taking a walk and three for going to the tavern. “What are you going to do, Stephen?” asked one of my friends.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“What a fellow you are for not making up your mind!” said one of them. “Come with us and make up your mind later.”

“I will follow you later,” I said.

“Do as you like,” he replied, and he and his two companions walked away to go to the tavern.

“You may go with us across the fields,” said one of the other three. But I had no desire for that, either, and soon I stood there alone.

At that moment I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a quiet voice saying, “Will you come with me this evening?”

Turning around, I saw an elderly woman, whom I knew by sight since she had a small store in the neighborhood, which I often passed as I went back and forth to work each day. “Will you come with me this evening?” she said, looking earnestly into my face.

“With you?” I said, laughing. “Where do you want to take me?”

“To public worship, to God’s house,” was her answer. “You do not often go there, do you?”

“No, I have better things to do with my time,” I said bluntly.

“Well, do come with me for once,” she said.

“What makes you ask me this time?”

“Why, you seemed not to know where to go, and I am sure there is nothing you can do better,” said the old woman. “It may do you good,” she added.

Her earnest look struck me, and I began to feel inclined to go with her. It was true I was undecided what to do, and there was something new in what she was suggesting. I had not been inside a church for years, and I am now ashamed to write this, but at that time I was not at all ashamed of it. As she repeated her request, I asked, “What good will it do you if I go with you one time, as you say?”

“It is not for any good that it would do me,” was her reply, “but it may be for your good.”

Her argument was not important to me, but her kind way of speaking impressed me, and at last I agreed to go with her. When we arrived, the service had already begun, and being half ashamed for allowing myself to be thus entrapped, as I thought, I slipped into the pew the usher gave me, and there I remained until the service was over.

At this time I remember very little of the sermon. To tell the truth, it made no impression on my mind, except that I was pleased with the manner of the preacher and rather liked what he said. I also liked the singing, and when I left, I made up my mind that I would go again. I did go again the next Sunday evening, although I probably would not have gone so soon if the weather had not been too wet to take a walk.

I well remember the sermon that evening, for it pricked me in the heart. I humbly hope and believe that, by means of the Holy Spirit’s power, it was a means to my conversion. For a long time I was in great distress, for my sins were brought to my mind. Among all my friends there was not one to whom I could tell my trouble. At last I thought of the old woman, and I went to her to tell what was troubling me. She talked to me about the work and love of Christ and about the work of the Holy Spirit, by whom alone I could be led to understand.

I had to bear a lot of ridicule from my former friends, who often tried to draw me back into my former life, but the Lord gave me strength and patience to resist them. A year later I was reminding my old friend how thankful I was to her for all her kindnesses to me, and I asked her how I could show my gratitude other than by mere words. She said, “Stephen, you can do so by doing the same thing I did to you. You remember what Moses once said to his father-in-law, ‘Come with us, and we will do thee good.’ Perhaps you may be helpful to others, as I was for you.”

It did trouble me that others were seeking pleasure in sinful things, but I said, “I am not like you.”

“No,” she said, “I am an old woman, and you are a strong young man, and that is different, but I wish you would try.”

The next Sunday evening when I was walking to the service, I saw two of my former friends. One of them said, “Come now, Stephen, go with us to the tavern. Why don’t you go with us this evening?”

I thought at once how he was serving Satan and was not ashamed to invite others to go with him, while I said nothing about the goodness of the Lord for me. I said, “I cannot go with you, James, but I wish you would come with me. Come with us, and we will do you good.”

James burst into laughter and said to the other, “Come along, Tom, and leave him alone.”

They turned away, and I went on my way, thinking, “I knew that would happen.”

But I did not know. A few minutes later I looked back and saw Tom behind me, who said, “I’ll go with you for once, Stephen. James was too hard on you, and I told him that he had no right to mock you for being religious. I’ll go with you. I have often thought of doing so, but you never asked me, so I thought you did not want my company. I have lived in this village three years, and this is the first time anybody asked me to go to church.”

So we went together, and though it was the first time for Tom, it was not the last.

Dear readers, there are many others around you to whom you may also say, “Come with us, and we will do thee good.”

— Adapted from the Sower

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