I is reminded of a story of a backwoodsman who came to town for a Sunday and stood outside of the town's finest church. A few parishoners brushed past him and scoffed or giggled at the way he was dressed, some made cracks about his beard and shaggy hair, and he became aware that he wasn't dressed as nice as he might be; certainly not for this congregation. He turned to return to his home, ashamed for his poverty and appearance.
Just then the clouds parted and, in a ray of sunshine, Christ appeared beside him.
He patted the astonished backwoodsman's shoulder and, looking over at the church He said: "Bob, I know just how you feel. I've been trying unsuccessfully to get into that church for years myself."
Just then the clouds parted and, in a ray of sunshine, Christ appeared beside him.
He patted the astonished backwoodsman's shoulder and, looking over at the church He said: "Bob, I know just how you feel. I've been trying unsuccessfully to get into that church for years myself."