“I lost twenty years’ religion here,” said an old lady as she took a farewell look around the little cottage that had been her home for many years. “And here,” she added, “I was born again after twenty years of a religious life.”
We asked her how she came to sustain such a loss, and if she had received anything instead. So she told us the story.
“I lived quite near your hall - so near that I could hear you folks singing. I sometimes raised my window to hear the hymns. I wondered what sort of folks you were - everybody seemed so happy.
“I was a member of a church, and lived a religious life, yet it was evident that you had something that I had not. Half through curiosity, half through anxiety, I finally ventured in one Sunday night. I sat down near the door so I would not be noticed.
“The preacher spoke of being born again. He said that one might be religious and pray and do the best he could, and yet be outside heaven at last. I felt that was me, for I never had been ‘born again’.
“There I sat, stripped of my religion, and conscious for the first time that I was a lost sinner. Then came the good news, the story of God’s love, and that there was life in a look to Jesus. I looked - and I live. I thought I could not leave here in peace until I told you!”