In the dark stands a row of bicycles chained to iron railing. Water drops from the rain pelting down, run rivets across the frames and onto the ground. Men, women and children, file into the chapel to hear a Thanksgiving message. Here, the décor is clean, pleasant and simple. Inviting. In this chapel, you hope enough folks file in so that you won’t even have a seat.
Here, in this chapel, you won’t sit down next to someone and wonder "What is the brand of that tantalizing cologne?" Here, your nostrils will come alive to the scent of humanity. Folks are vocal and voices of “Amen!” can be heard. The rafters ring with “I’ll Fly Away” and the solemnity of “Amazing Grace My Chains are Gone” drifts into the city streets. In this chapel, a soul finds rest and receives a message of hope, simply stated, and presented with such clarity it will stop you in your tracks. Here, in this chapel, I feel sure my Father walks the isles with a kind smile, knowing, someone has gathered His sheep.
At night’s end, folks shuffle out, into the rain and return whence they came. Some leave on foot, and some leave on bike. The rain continues to pelt. The cold and the wet you can feel to the bone. But, there’s warmth here, that outdoes the cold. They don't leave the same. They came hungry and they came cold. Here, nourishment is offered for body and for soul.
He said to him the third time, “Shim‛on, son of Yonah, do you love Me?” Kĕpha was sad because He said to him the third time, “Do you love Me?” And he said to Him, “Master, You know all, You know that I love You.” יהושע said to him, “Feed My sheep.-John 21:17