Nudged By an Angel

One Saturday evening in the summer of 1986, I went to the local nursing home on one of my regular visits. This time, my wife Ginny wasn’t with me – as a new, first-time mom, she was staying home with our infant daughter, and my sister was coming to see the baby. I was alone as I stepped through the doors.

Back when the nursing home ministry began, three years before that evening, our church was very involved. There was no shortage of singers and musicians eagerly dedicating their time and talents to this humble work. Those early visits included full chapel services with up-tempo hymns, a short sermon and personal interaction with the residents. Investing our hearts—and backs—in each service, we hauled in a complete sound system, guitars, bass, and even a drum set.

But in time, many of the contributing church members had directed their efforts elsewhere or simply lost interest. This was due in part to the sad reality that residents gradually passed away or became too frail to join us for service. But Ginny and I adjusted to the changes and continued, and the ministry was gradually turned over to us.

On that evening in 1986, I went alone with only my Bible—no sound system, no singers, no additional support. I was wondering if we should even continue this particular outreach.

Was it making a difference with anyone?

Would God even be there, experientially, as He had been on the many other occasions? After all, many of His beloved there had already passed on to be in His presence.

Was this now a waste of time?

Instead of conducting a chapel service, I simply went room to room for personal visits with whoever was up to it. Not many were. Though I knew the place well, I felt very much like the proverbial bull in the china shop, stumbling around amongst priceless, fragile individuals.

Would anyone benefit from my being there?