Buffalo, New York, sits at the east end of Lake Erie. The windward end. The prevailing winds sweep across the 9,910 square mile (25,670 sq. km.) expanse of the lake and, drawing up moisture as they travel, are more than willing to bestow their rain- (or snow-) laden bounty on the city.
For some reason, snow by the foot is not always appreciated. So for a while the authorities attempted to seed the clouds over the lake to force them to jettison their precipitation before it reached the eastern shore. But the ski resorts in the hills south of Buffalo strenuously objected to green grass in January and so the region was left to its fate. White stuff, and lots of it.
Just south of Buffalo is the town of Blasdell, population 2,910 or thereabouts. The Lord has seen fit to place a lampstand there to shine for Him, and shine they do. Over the years they have probably sent more missionaries per capita to the foreign field than any other assembly I know. And still the testimony shines for Him: children’s work, camp ministry, youth conferences, annual banquets for the local firemen, and on it goes.
When I was living in southern Ontario, 50 miles from Blasdell, I often visited the fellowship there in January or February for four Thursday nights to minister the Word. One year, there was an unusually large snowfall in Buffalo (is that redundant to say snowfall and Buffalo together?). There was so much of the fluff, in fact, that the police made it an offense punishable by jailing to be caught driving a car in the city. They had so many stranded vehicles and were having such difficulty clearing the streets that they didn’t want anyone compounding the problem.
I assumed the meeting had been cancelled in Blasdell. All day I waited for the phone to ring, informing me of the fact.
Finally, at supper time, I placed a call through to the Steifler residence.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Steifler’s.”
“Hi, brother, this is Jabe. How’s the weather there? (Hint. Hint. My easy chair was looking very inviting right about then. A good book. A hot mug of tea. An afghan blanket pulled up to my chin.)”
“What do you mean?”
“The snow, brother! Haven’t you cancelled the prayer meeting?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, I heard the city of Buffalo is closed.”
“Yes, but Blasdell (population 2,910!) is open. You’ll have to take the Thruway around the city, but you’ll be alright.”
“Will anyone show up?”
“Well, I suppose some people will make an excuse and some people will make an effort.”
“Ah. I see. Yes, well, see you there, brother.”
Now if that doesn’t describe the human race in general and the Christian community in particular, I don’t know what does. Many of God’s people, feeling snowed under perhaps, have opted for the recliner by the fireside. But thank the Lord for the faithful few who rise to the challenge and make the effort when they could easily make an excuse.
I’ve often thought that the big E (effort) type Christians could save a lot of time when asking small e (excuse) type Christians for a hand if we had a book of the most popular excuses numbered and indexed. Instead of losing ten minutes while we listened to a play-by-play description of how busy they are (no one ever seems too busy to take the time to tell you how busy they are), small e Christians could just use a number. It would work like this:
“Hi. I was wondering if you…”
“Sorry, Number 324 (My aunt may be coming from the old country this summer and I wouldn’t want to be out when she came).”
“Yes, I understand. Maybe some other time.”
“Not likely–187, you know (I’m allergic).”
“Well, thanks for memorizing the numbers.”
“You’ve got to make the effort sometime!”
By the way, when I arrived at the meeting in Blasdell, they were all there. Vive l’effort!