This week, Glen is on mission. He tells people about Jesus; and sometimes, as he talks, lives are changed. Eternal lives, as well as earthly. Hope and help, in place of pain and despair. A+E for the soul.
What a job! What a responsibility!
It must take a very special person to be an evangelist.
It does. In fact, it takes hundreds. But most of them you can’t see.
Sometimes when Glen is speaking, he asks the church to pray for me and Ruby. “Without my wife” he says, “I couldn’t do this.”
Look behind his wife… and you’ll see a church. This week, I’ve had laryngitis and been too sick to get out of bed. Yet I’ve been carried… and my daughter has too. My blood family are overseas… but my church family are on my doorstep. They’ve brought me shopping and sympathy. They’ve ferried me in the rain. They’ve prayed for me and encouraged me (amidst their own struggles and concerns and the busyness of life). They’ve cheerfully served and served and asked if they can do more. Without our church, Glen couldn’t do this.
Then, there’s the folks who are hosting Glen’s mission. A dozen Christian Union guests, freed up by churches as far away as Scotland. Another church, that invited him to speak. The admin team and the committees, who’ve been working hard to make sure the events run smooth. The new mums, who’ve invited friends, even though it’s daunting and they’re sleep-starved. Coffee makers and chair stackers, who leave work early and stay late. Bakers and babysitters; prayer teams and paper folders. Introverts and extroverts; dreamers and doers. Before Glen arrives, they’re there. And long, long after he’s gone they’re carrying one another.
I love my local church and I love my wider church. I love that God calls us all to be and give of ourselves, whatever our shape. Yes, God has gifted my husband and I’m proud to be his wife! But when he’s in the pulpit, there are hundreds of others with him. And most likely, one of them is you.