Speak to Strangers

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Apr 17, 1879

Speak to Strangers.

"Who was that quiet appearing girl that came into church quite late, last Sabbath?" I asked a friend of mine who was an active member in the church to which I belonged.

"Did she have a striped shawl and dark dress?" inquired my friend. "If so it was Annie Linton, a girl who is a seamstress in Brown's shop."

"I did not notice her clothes in particular," I answered, "but I think she did wear a striped shawl. Her face attracted me, I should know it among a thousand faces."

"You are always discovering something very unusual about the appearance of somebody that we know nothing about," laughed my friend.

"I would rather be guilty of this, than to pass by a stranger as indifferently as you did by this young lady. I expected that you were going to ask her to remain at Sabbath-school and go into your Bible-class, but you never once looked at her," I answered my good natured but careless friend.

"I did not once think of it, and if I had I believe that she would not have accepted the invitation, as she is a stranger in town, and undoubtedly will not remain here long," my friend replied quickly, in the way of defense.

I did not say anything more, for Mrs. G. was really an excellent Christian woman, with this one little fault—carelessness—which sometimes caused her to make grave mistakes.

But I could not help thinking about the stranger girl, although I did not say anything more about her. Her large dark eyes and finely formed face revealed more than ordinary intelligence, and then in some way I gained the impression that she was deeply impressed with religious conviction, if not a Christian already. It seemed to me that she left the church very reluctantly, and was half waiting an invitation to the Bible-class.

The next Sabbath she came again and occupied the same seat—just in front of my own. She bowed her head very reverently during prayer, and once during the sermon I saw her lip quiver with emotion, and a tear came into her eye. The services closed, and the stranger lingered as before. My friend, good Mrs. G., bustled along but again forgot to speak to the girl. She passed out of the church slowly and did not come again. I thought she must have left town, as I had not seen her for several days, but one Sabbath as I attended another church I saw her again. She seemed a little more at ease I thought, and there was a quiet smile on her face. After the services were concluded I saw many a pleasant smile given to the stranger girl and I understood the secret of the changed look upon her face. I made some inquiries and learned that she had joined this church, and was earnest and active in all its work. I also learned that she had just made a profession of religion before coming to our village, and had an unusually clear experience.

How much the indifference of our own people had to do with her finding a home in another church I know not.

Several years have passed since this occurred, but I have never forgotten it. Many a stranger's hand I have clasped as I thought of Annie Linton's sweet face. I was young in Christian experience then, and that lesson was a profitable one to me.

Speak to the stranger, Christian friend, with the assurance that no evil will grow out of it. It is better sometimes to step over the rules of etiquette than chill some warm stream of God's new-given love by coldness and indifference.—Exchange.