HE SMALL WHITE CHURCH HAD TWO doors: one for men and one for women. Inside stood a pulpit, a pump organ, a rough wood floor, wooden pews, and plain, clear windows that welcomed in the sunlight. Farmers, who knew about bushel baskets at harvest, used buggies to transport their families to church in the forested New Hampshire hills twice a week-once for prayer meeting and once for Sabbath services.

On sunny summer days the inside of the church was lighted by sunlight streaming through the clear windows. And on cloudy, cold winter days lanterns provided light for the worshipers. The windows were kept clean, because the sunlight's shining in or the lantern light shining out would be diminished by dirty glass. Just as the radiance from the lantern light would invite those on the outside to join the worshipers inside, so the light of God's love radiating from the worshipers inside would draw wanderers back to the little church of their youth.

As God's movement spread, white wooden churches were replaced by brick structures with tall steeples. Majestic pipe organs replaced the little pump organs. Color-coordinated carpeted aisles and cushioned pews replaced the rough wood floors and wooden pews. Electric lights made the churches visible on dark days and nights. Long, sleek high-powered cars replaced the horses and buggies that had waited by the little white church. Forgiven sinners now entered the churches through large glass or carved wooden doors to meet with their God. Sunlight was now beautifully filtered through stained-glass windows, and at night those windows invited passersby to enter and worship.

And the light of God's love continued to shine into the neighborhood.

Shadows
Her tight black form-fitting clothes shouted her profession-prostitute. Her appearance-the ring in her nose, the multiple rings in her ears and the one on her lip, the hair shaved except for tasteful bangs in front and a long tail in back-was unusual even in the urban setting. The beautiful girl walked slowly toward the light shining through the stained-glass windows. She knew she was a sinner-and so did everyone else, because sexual sins were especially obnoxious to some "saved" sinners.

She timidly approached the glass doors, trembling as she wondered whether the light that she remembered shining through the doors as a child would be extended to her now.

The gray-haired woman who stood at the heavy glass door had been Mary's primary leader. She put her arm around the girl's frail shoulders, smiled, and said, "Welcome, Mary."

Mary threw her arms around the woman, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I saw the light, drawing me back. Can you still love me?"

The girl would never forget the reply: "Jesus still loves you, Mary, and so do I."

He was tall, extremely thin, and coughed as disease tore at his chest. Today was a "good" day, and he was able to walk, though slowly, bundled against the snow swirling around him. His beard, once carefully trimmed, now was unkempt. His hair under the stocking cap hung down his back.

In spite of gloves, boots, hat, and coat, he was cold. He felt alone, because he had lived with the gay crowd and had experienced rejection by straight people. Long after he quit attending church, he read in church papers that his lifestyle was not acceptable in the church of his youth. He still loved his Lord. Weekly he kept God's Sabbath. In spite of his church's rejection he somehow knew that Jesus' death was also for him, a sinner.

Tonight was a special meeting. The tall, sick, cold, lonely man approached the light. He knew his clothes were not what the others would be wearing. He knew they had rejected his former lifestyle. He approached the steps in front of the glass doors and hesitated. He had known the warmth of fellowship inside those glass doors as a child. But would he now face another rejection. The door opened, and a man in a suit hurried down the steps and put his arm around the slender shoulders.

"Welcome, son." His own father was on the welcoming committee.

"Dad, you know I'm gay. I have AIDS. I'm a sinner." Tears streamed down his face as he spoke. "Does my church"-he hesitated-"your church, really want me back?"

The father looked at his son's pale, lean face and threw both arms around him. "I've been waiting for you since you left, son. Each Sabbath I hoped and prayed you would come. And my prayers have been answered. I love you."

Arm in arm the two walked toward the light inside the church, and the father announced, "My son has come home."

The couple approached the glass doors with the light shining invitingly inside. A small boy swung between them, giggling. They looked at each other.

"Shall we try?" The man's dark face looked down at the girl on the other side of the wiggling boy.

"I wish I knew the light was genuine. If we were married, I'd have no fears." She smiled sadly. "The Bible says that whoever comes will be welcome." Her dangling earrings sparkled as she looked up hopefully. "Do those inside believe what Jesus said?"

The boy was pulling them toward the stairs. "Mom, I want to go in."

They both looked down at their son, slightly lighter than his father and slightly darker than his mother. He had not yet experienced the prejudice his parents had endured.

"I believe what the Bible says. We are welcome in God's church." The man reached out and put his arm around his son's mother. Together the three of them walked up the stairs.

The door opened and a woman extended her hand toward the Black man. "Welcome. We're glad you came."

The three adults looked at each other. The other woman extended her hand too. The grinning little boy stuck out his small hand. He received a hug from the church member. "I'm glad we came in," he said, looking up at his parents. In love, both smiled down at him.

And in heaven angels rejoiced, for this church with the light shining through its stained-glass windows was a hospital for sinners-sinners who were learning to follow their Lord, who had first loved them.

The man's once-dark hair was now almost white. His tall frame was slightly bowed. His eyes longingly looked at the church with its light, and he wondered. Yes, he felt regret, sorrow, and much guilt after all those years. The church with the light had been his church. The people had been his people, and he their pastor.

Through the years, when he came to church, he sat in the back row in the balcony. There he could meet with his God without meeting the angry, frustrated, condemning looks of his former congregation. Few people reached out to him, for most remembered his past and looked beyond him without offering him their handshake when he passed them on his way out of church. The loss of the friendship he desired after his fall from power and final disfellowshipping had been hard to bear. He had asked his congregation for forgiveness, and yet he couldn't blame them for their coolness. The persistence that had made him a good pastor kept him returning to the church with the stained-glass windows.

He walked toward the glass doors and their light. He would try again. The man at the door had been his head elder. He started up the stairs, and the man came toward him with his right hand extended. "Welcome to church, Pastor." The title slipped out unconsciously. Somehow it thrilled the man walking through the doors into the light.

He smiled down at the stooped greeter. Time had not changed his sincere smile. Though his disappointment had been intense, this man's support was remembered. The dethroned pastor was aware that for months the man had worked 40 hours a week at his job plus another 40 hours a week trying to keep God's church together.

As head elder, the greeter had suffered extremely during that hard time. Yet tonight the extended hand and the smile welcomed his former pastor to their church. They walked into the sanctuary together and sat down side by side on the front row. Both were sinners, forgiven by God. Both looked forward to a place in heaven with the One who had died for their sins.

Let It Shine Till Jesus Comes
The light through the stained-glass windows sometimes dims as intolerance toward those in the highways and hedges is voiced by people who don't understand God's invitation to search for them "so that my house will be full" (Luke 14:23, NIV).

Sadly, not all of those people from my New Hampshire church that I have mentioned received the welcome I wrote about. They represent my vision for our church. They represent what our church could look like if we were to allow the light of God's love to shine through us.

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine!"

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Connie Wells Nowlan is a wife, mother, retired English and preschool teacher--and always a writer!