A couple of weeks ago I as at
an event with Tony Campolo, a sought after speaker, he told a story of a time
attending a Christian conference in Honolulu, Hawaii. Since there was a
six-hour time differential between Honolulu and his hometown in Pennsylvania, he
experienced some confusion in his sleep pattern and on his first night he woke
up, got dressed, and left the hotel where he was staying, searching for a place
to get something to eat. Eventually he found a tiny coffee shop that was open. Here
is his description of what happened there:
“The fat guy behind the
counter came over and asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted a cup of
coffee and a donut. As I sat there munching my donut and sipping my coffee at
3:30 in the morning, the door suddenly opened, swung wide, and to my discomfort
in marched eight or nine provocatively dressed and rather boisterous
prostitutes. It was a small place and they sat on either side of me. Their talk
was loud and crude. I felt completely out of place. I was just about to make my
getaway when I heard the woman next to me say, ‘You know, tomorrow is my birthday.
I’m going to be 39.’ Her friend responded in a rather nasty tone, ‘so what do
you want from me, a birthday party? What do you want, you want me to get a cake
and sing happy birthday to you?’ ‘Come on’, the woman sitting next to me said,
‘why do you have to be so mean? I’m just telling you that it’s my birthday. Why
do you have to put me down? I don’t want anything from you. I mean, why should
I have a birthday party? I’ve never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?’
Campolo said, “When I heard
that, I made a decision. I sat and waited until the women left, and then I
called over the fat guy behind the counter and asked him, ‘Do they come in here
every night?’ He answered, ‘Yeah.’ ‘The one who was sitting right next to me,
does she come in every night?’ ‘Yeah”, he said, ‘that’s Agnes. Yeah, she comes
in every night. Why do you want to know?’ ‘Because,’ Campolo replied, ‘I heard
her say that tomorrow is her birthday. What do you say we do something special
for her? What do you think about throwing a birthday party for her right here
in the coffee shop?’ A cute kind of smile crept over that fat man’s chubby
cheeks. ‘That’s a great idea,’ he said. Agnes is one of those people who are
really nice and kind. I don’t think anybody has ever done anything nice and
kind for her.’ ‘Well, look,’ he told him, ‘if it’s okay with you, I’ll be back
here tomorrow morning at 2:30. I’ll decorate the place. I’ll even get a
birthday cake for her.’ ‘No way!’ he replied. ‘The birthday cake, that’s my
thing. I’ll bake the birthday cake myself.’
At 2:30 the next morning,
Campolo was back at the coffee shop, he had picked up some crepe paper and
other decorations at the store, and made a sign the said, ‘Happy Birthday,
Agnes!’ He decorated that diner from one end to the other. The word must have
gotten out because at 3:15 that morning every prostitute in Honolulu was in
that place. There was wall to wall prostitutes—and Tony Campolo, At 3:30 on the
dot, the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes. He had everyone ready
to scream ‘Happy Birthday, Agnes!’ And then we sang to her. And you know never
has there been a person so flabbergasted, so stunned, so shaken. Her mouth fell
open, her knees started to buckle, and she started to cry.
Harry, the fat guy behind the
counter, gruffly mumbled, ‘Blow out the candles, Agnes, blow out the candles.’ Then
he handed her a knife and said, ‘cut the cake, Agnes, cut the cake.’ Agnes
looked down at that cake, and without taking her eyes off it, she slowly and
softly said, ‘Look, Harry, is it Okay with you if I, I mean, if I don’t, what I
want to ask, is it okay if I keep the cake for a little while? Is it Okay if we
don’t eat it right away?’ Harry shrugged and answered, ‘Well,
sure, Agnes, that’s fine. You want to keep the cake, keep the cake. Take it
home if you want to.’ ‘Oh, could I?’ she asked. Looking at him, she said, ‘I
just live down the street a couple of doors. I want to take the cake home,
okay? I’ll be right back, honest.’
She got off the stool, she
picked up that cake, and she carried it out of the diner like it was the Holy
Grail. She walked slowly toward the door, and we all just stood there,
speechless. When the door closed behind her, there was stunned silence in the
place. Not knowing what else to do, Campolo broke the silence by saying, ‘What
do you say we pray together?’ Campolo says that looking back at it now it seems
more than a little strange to be leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of
prostitutes in a diner in Honolulu at 3:30 in the morning. But he prayed. He
prayed for Agnes, He prayed for her salvation. He prayed that her life would be
changed, and that God would be good to her.
And when he finished, Harry
leaned over, and with a trace of hostility in his voice, he said, ‘Hey, you
never told me you were a preacher! What kind of preacher are you anyway? What
church do you belong to?’ In one of those moments when just the right words
come, he answered him quietly, ‘I belong to a church that throws birthday
parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning.’ Harry thought for a minute,
and then almost sneered as he answered, ‘No, you don’t! There is no church like
that. In fact,’ he concluded, ‘If there was, I’d join it.”
Maybe Harry was right. Maybe
there is no church that is open enough to the leading of the Holy Spirit to be
that kind of church. But if the church is to continue to provide a witness to
the world about the unconditional love of God, that’s the kind of church that
dances with the wind, a church that celebrates life, a church that twirls and
laughs and parties with everyone the Holy Spirit drags us to. Because of the Holy Spirit
in our lives we can be people of Purpose, Power, and Passion. Resolve today
that you will never be content again with a powerless, puny, poor-mouthing,
pessimistic life-style. Tell God that you want to soar on the wings of the
spirit. When we do, the weak are made strong every day.
Go with God,
Pastor Qualley
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