Since its beginning, our small group ministry has prayed for our local community—that lives would be changed through Jesus Christ.
However, in our seven years of existence, we never tangibly connected with the community. After a night of prayer devoted to discerning how to reach out, we decided to host a breakfast for local teachers on a teacher workday. We provided the group leaders with a list of schools to adopt. Within a week, all the schools were adopted, along with ten others that weren't.
My group brought breakfast to teachers with particularly low morale. As we were serving the eggs, coffee cake, and OJ, one particularly glum woman approached me. She said, "I know you from church. Don't you play guitar at the Saturday night service?" I was taken off-guard. She knew who I was, but I didn't know who she was.
Our conversation continued, and she told me she had been attending our church for one year, since her son was diagnosed with leukemia. She had never been part of a church, she said, but was curious if God could heal her son. So she went to the church closest to her house.
After about a half-hour discussion, I learned that she was still seeking. Stirred by her earnestness and saddened by her despair, I knew immediately I should invite her to be part of our small group.
Before I lost courage, I blurted out, "These people that I'm with today are part of my small group. I would love it if you joined our small group so we could support you." Though surprised by the invitation, she said she would consider it.
Two days later, she called and said she would come for one week, and decide later if she would commit. The night she showed up, we studied God's provision ...