Come and Welcome | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 2, 1875

Come and Welcome.

There are churches into whose lofty vestibules, though the belfry bell sounds loud and long, and the grand organ peals forth its alluring strains of majestic harmony, the poor of the earth never enter.

Would they come, if they were assured of true and cordial welcome? It is by no means necessary that the pastor should seek out and personally salute the stranger within his gates. In a large church such method of procedure would be simply impracticable. But if the “welcome” spirit be in that church, some one will be sure to breathe it upon the stranger’s heart.

“Come again. We are always glad to entertain strangers,” whispered a young matron to a strange lady whom the usher had seated in her pew. There were many sorrows weighing on that visitor’s heart, but the bright smile and the unexpected word of welcome went through each bitter sorrow straight to the aching, burdened heart, and cheered and soothed like a caress.

The church that extends the hand of welcome to lowly and lofty, weak and strong, poor and rich alike, is a church that is always and everywhere a power for good; for the Spirit of the Lord God is upon it, and its members are among those “appointed” to preach the acceptable year of the Lord.

Are there no such churches? Let the true story of Filius and Filia tell. The chapel was an unpretentious building in an unfashionable locality. Its belfry was without a bell, and its organ loft destitute of an organ. It had, however, its attractions, and they summoned as surely as ever chime of bell, and held as closely as ever peal of organ might. It was roomy, well lighted, and well ventilated. Its outer door stood always wide open, and above it shone the illuminated words, “Come, and Welcome.”

Filius and Filia, wandering through an unfamiliar

district of the city they had lately chosen for their home, came upon the modest chapel lit up for evening service. The bright and bonny words of welcome beamed on them as they reached its open portal. “That looks cordial,” said Filius. “Suppose we test it,” suggested Filia.

As they entered the door of the little vestibule, a gentleman advanced to meet them. Filius was surprised, though not displeased, by the handsome hand-grasp and cordial salutation extended to him, as the gentleman signed to the usher waiting at the inner door to conduct them to seats within. The occupants of the pew into which they were shown welcomed them with courteous grace, and at once supplied them with Bibles and hymn books. “This seems cordial,” whispered Filius to his companion. “It’s genuine, too,” returned Filia, “appearances are not on our side. You have on your ‘regimentals,’ and I look like a dowdy.”

The pastor entered. There was a hush, as every head was bowed in silent prayer. Then the whole congregation arose and sang together one verse of an ascriptive psalm. And as the pastor opened the Scripture lesson with the solemn words, “The Lord is in his holy temple,” Filia’s heart echoed, “I believe he is.” Earnest, fresh, heart-warm, seemed all the service of the evening. And when, after the benediction, the pastor approached the new-comers, with a hand outstretched to each, their hearts bounded responsively, in sympathy already with the atmosphere of the place.

“Strangers to me, yet doubtless well known to our Master,” was the hearty word of greeting; and the question, “Are you confessors of the Lord?”

“We are,” responded Filius; and then, won to candid confidence by the genial manner of the pastor, he added, “We are strangers in the city, having but lately come from a neighboring State, and are as yet without a church-home. We are casting about for one, suitable and congenial. We are plain folks and workers.” “Good,” exclaimed the pastor, at the same time beckoning to a gentleman in the opposite aisle. Ascertaining the names of Filius and his companion, the minister introduced them to the brother he had summoned, and, as they slowly passed down the aisle, to one and another of the congregation. Ere they had reached the door they were strangers no longer, but friends and brethren. “Consider our needs,” said one whom the pastor had made known as our Sunday-school superintendent; “if you have not yet decided where to cast your lot, know that our vineyard stands in need of toilers. There is plenty of work here and abundant welcome.”

A dozen members of the congregation lingered in the vestibule. They had with them as many strangers, whom they had noted and saluted in the audience, and whom they now presented to their pastor. “Ah, God is very good to us,” said the pastor, as he welcomed each individual of the group. “Always he is sending us angels of cheer, in the persons of the dear stranger friends who come in answer to our call, to help us by their presence with us.” And Filia caught the surprised and happy look upon the face of a lady, one of the strangers, as she turned to the friend at her side, and murmured, “Is it not all delightful?” As they bade good night to their newly found friends and passed out of the door, they were saluted by two officers of the church, whose custom it was to station themselves at the outer door and give a kindly word of parting to every one who made his exit from the house, “Good night, God bless you. Come again.”

“Did you ever see such people?” asked Filia, as they turned the corner of the street. “That little lady in gray asked my number, and said she would call very soon. What do you think?” “What do you think?” queried Filius in reply. The moonlight glittered upon tears that trembled on the drooping lashes as Filia answered, “I think that I have learned to-night for the first time, by heart, that bit of our creed I’ve so long known by rote, ‘I believe in the communion of saints.’ I am going, God willing, to that little chapel next Sabbath.” “So am I,” said Filius.

Before Sabbath came, Filius, walking in the street, was accosted by a pleasant voice with, “Good day, sir. Hope you are in good health. Saw you at our church the other night, inferred we were united in a common cause. Can’t help feeling an interest, you know.”

Filius lifted his eyes to meet the frank, bright face of an enterprising young business man, whom he had once or twice met on ’change, but who had never shown any such demonstration of interest before. Evidently the interest was for the sake of the “common cause.” “This is Christian fellowship,” said Filius, grasping the outstretched hand, “and it is as delightful as it is rare.”

The sequel to all this was that to Filius and Filia was opened a fresh page in the precious gospel of love, and to the humble, genial, gracious membership of the little chapel church were added two whose joy it was to labor in the vineyard of the Lord.

The word of kindly welcome dropped into the lives of these two, stirred gentle ripples that widen, widen, and are ever widening, touching other lives and causing ripples of kindly thoughts and deeds of courtesy, whose limits none can trace.

The “Come, and Welcome” that Filius and Filia have ever since extended to the stranger, the neglected, the lonely, the afflicted, is not the mere letter of the word of love, but it is the sweet expression of that spirit of Christian fellowship and loving brotherhood that once so won upon their own hearts.

Come to thy people on the earth, Lord Jesus, COME AND WELCOME.—Illustrated Christian Weekly.