Showing Ourselves Friendly
By J. G. Greenhough
I THINK it would not be unfair to say that the people who groan and complain most about the lack of social life in a church are, as a general rule, the people who have least right to complain, because they are just the people who contribute least toward it. I have known not a few good men and women who will attend the Sabbath services of a church, sit as near the door as possible, hurry out when the benediction is pronounced, exchange no word or salutation with a single soul, never show themselves at any of the less formal and more homely meetings of the church, and then, having thus done everything they could to prevent the approaches of kind hearts, speak in bitter terms about the coldness and stiffness of the people. It is too often forgotten that with what measure we mete, it is measured to us again; and even a church is a little like the echo bird, which sends back to us the tones we utter, or the chill silence which we deal out to it. If we desire friends, we must show ourselves friendly. If we expect all the brethren and sisters to be effusive toward us, while we are constantly coy and distant, it is distinctly unreasonable, and the most generous Christian souls soon tire of that game. There must be a little of give and take on both sides if there is to be anything like geniality and warmth.
— Rev. J. G. Greenhough.