Have you ever learned a lesson early in life, promptly proceeded to forget it, and then had it driven home to you years later?

Here’s what happened this weekend….

I was preaching at the Delacroix-Hope Baptist Church downriver from New Orleans in the community known as St. Bernard in the parish of the same name. Before Katrina, nearly 5 years ago, this church was actually located on Delacroix Island, a fishing village. The hurricane ruined the community and the church building disappeared. So, when the people regathered, they started meeting in a little Presbyterian church that was eventually donated to them. Their pastor for the past ten years or so, James “Boogie” Melerine, a native of the island community, has just retired and they’ve asked me to preach last Sunday and next.

There might have been sixty people in attendance. When the children left for their own service just prior to the sermon–I always hate that; they’re my favorite group!–I was left with 35 or 40 adults. The song service was fine, but nothing indicated this was going to be an unusual hour for all of us.

Then we came to the time of the public invitation.

First, Andy came. He was middle-aged and rough-looking. He said he was a backslidden believer who had done some bad things and wanted to bring himself back to the Lord. I prayed, he prayed, and then I invited him to share this with the congregation.

When he finished speaking, I suggested that he take a seat and for some of the men to gather around and pray for him.

Then, Mel responded to the invitation. He and his wife and three children were visiting today. I had sketched the beautiful kids before church, then they left for the children’s service. Mel said to me, “I need to be saved.”

We prayed together and he asked the Lord into his life.

A minute later, his wife Sydney was there, tears in her eyes, asking to be saved also.

Next, it was Kate, a senior adult woman. “I have an addiction,” she said. Bingo was ruining her finances and destroying her life. We prayed, and then I asked if she would like to share this with the church. She told the congregation and added, “I guess it’s because I’m just so lonely.”

When Mel and Sydney told the congregation of their decisions today and that they want to be baptized, the people burst into applause.

I invited women to gather around Kate and pray, and others to surround Mel and Sydney and bathe them in prayer.

It was a blessed time.  I rejoiced all the way home.

A small church can do this, can turn the floor over to someone making a commitment of their life to Christ and know that members of the congregation will step up and surround them in prayer.

They can do this because they are small in number. A church running hundreds will almost never do this because of the sheer problem of having too many people. They’d never get away.

Over 40 years ago during my first pastorate after seminary, God sent us a genuine revival. By that, I mean one not brought to town by a visiting preacher or whipped up by any of my theatrics.

The full story is too long to relate here, but the gist of it is as follows….

Emmanuel Baptist Church of Greenville, Mississippi, was giving its new preacher (me) a hard time. We came through a revival meeting with a visiting evangelist from Memphis and saw almost no fruit from it at all. Some of the leaders of the church were fighting among themselves and the church was anything but unified.

The last Sunday morning of the revival, when the evangelist had finished, I said to the people, “Looking out among you this morning, I see a number who need to be saved. And quite a few of you have told me you intend to join this church. Yet, none of you have come. I just want to say, I don’t blame you.”

Letting that soak in, I added, “I wouldn’t join this church either. There is a bad spirit here and the Lord is not going to let us have a spirit of revival and harvest until some people get their hearts right with Him.”

That evening, after my sermon, a teenager was the first one down the aisle during the invitation. “Oh, Brother McKeever, I have such a bad attitude.”

I said, “You certainly do. I want you to kneel here and confess it and come back and tell me when the Lord has forgiven you.”

When she did, I said, “Here’s the microphone. Why don’t you tell the congregation?”

Since they all knew about the attitude problem, I thought they’d enjoy hearing the repentance. But I was not prepared for what that started.

The next thing I knew, others were coming forward to repent. They knelt and prayed, then went to the microphone to tell the congregation of their decision and commitment. Some repented publicly and asked for forgiveness.

Many tears were shed that night. The invitation went on for more than an hour. Most of the members present spent time at the altar and ten people were saved, as I recall.

That set off a full three years of revival, which was the rest of my ministry among them. We were constantly having people come to Christ and then sharing their decision with the membership.

Are you in a small church?  Maybe you’re pastoring one.  Count your blessings, friend, and then ask the Lord to help you make the most of the opportunities, because they are many.