“I preached four nights in a church in Atlanta, a nice, big church with a good crowd, more than I’m used to. There was a moment in the service in which the pastor said, “We’ll now have our moments of fellowship. Greet each other in Christian love,” and you never saw such hugging and kissing and carrying on in your life—people going across the room, and up and down the aisles, and grabbing and hugging. Somebody came up to me—I was down behind the pulpit—and gave me a big smack. It was just really something. Finally he said, “All right, hold it, hold it. We have to get on with the worship.” Four nights of that.
The last night, he and his wife took me and my wife out to coffee. He said, “Did you ever see such a family church? Did you ever see such love in your life in”
“My wife said, “Yeah, well, yeah, I have.”
He said, “What do you mean?”
She said, “I was there for all four services, and nobody ever spoke to me.”
And do you know what he said? He said, “Well, that was because they didn’t know who you were.”
Excerpt From: Fred B. Craddock. “Craddock stories.” Chalice Press, 2001.
Lessons from the Road 