"Sour Grapes.................."

The room at the rescue mission Wednesday evening was in no way packed; but it was a good crowd, about thirty men. One fellow, though, well dressed and wearing a tag identifying him to be a worker, sat right up front and, from the start, was obviously displeased with things. It’s possible he was staff; as they do change from time to time; but more likely he was some church volunteer who had stayed for worship after dinner. It could be he took offense to something I said before we even started, asking me with obvious disdain if I was one of those Freewill Baptists and then being a bit shocked, it seemed, to learn of my roots in old-time holiness. We sang an old hymn that had been requested, only to be told afterwards that my style in leading it was “a bit Appalachian”, a slur taken by me as a compliment, my entry into this indeed a step into such company. When one of the men in the program, at my invitation, stood and testified, it was apparently all this poor guy could take. Trapped in the second row, unable to politely escape, he sat there with his head on his chest through what Dave and Tony shared, and finally walked out as I stood to take the podium for the last ten minutes. Religion in a new navy blue sweater, denim trousers, and a hardened interior, expecting a five-point sermon demanding this bunch of losers repent and mend their ways. He missed it, in my opinion. Final prayer was sweet……