Read Online Home to Harmony by Philip Gulley - Free Book Online Page B

porch, waiting and worried. Five minutes later, Miriam pulled her truck to the curb in front of my house. We drove west of town, then turned around and headed back toward Harmony.
    There they were. Signs. Just like Burma-Shave used to use. The first one was on the edge of town, just before the Welcome to Harmony sign:
    If you cheat and drink and lie
    turn to God before you die.
    Harmony Friends Meeting
    Miriam asked if I knew who put the signs up. I had my suspicions.
    We drove east of town. Turned back. More signs.
    The gate is narrow, the path is straight.
    Follow Jesus. Don’t be late.
    Harmony Friends Meeting
    â€œDale Hinshaw,” I told Miriam. “This has Dale Hinshaw written all over it.”
    We drove toward the meetinghouse. More signs. This time in front of Harvey Muldock’s car dealership.
    Go to church and learn to pray
    or when you die there’s Hell to pay.
    Harmony Friends Meeting
    Dale Hinshaw was pounding in the last sign as we pulled up to the meetinghouse curb. It read, Tired of sin? Come on in! Dale smiled and said, “Catchy, isn’t it? I think it’ll take care of our church growth problem.”
    He told how the Lord had spoken to him in a dream. He dreamt he was a boy again, riding in the backseat toward the lake and reading the Burma-Shave signs. Then he woke up and went to his kitchen table and the Lord gave him those gospel messages. Just like that.
    He turned to Miriam. “I have you to thank. If you hadn’t encouraged us to follow the Spirit’s leading, this never would have happened.”
    Miriam paled. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind.
    All week long, people called, wanting me to take down the signs. I told them to talk with Dale.
    On Thursday morning I walked to the meetinghouse, past the Tired of sin? Come on in! sign. Someone had written underneath it, If not, call 555-9658. That wasmy phone number. All week long my phone rang. Apparently, people in this town weren’t tired of sin.
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    T hen Sunday came, and the meetinghouse was packed. People who hadn’t come for years were washed and starched and sitting with their hands folded in prayer.
    They were there for the lottery tickets, but Dale didn’t know that. He thought it was the signs. He was deeply pleased. He talked about making more signs, of putting them up all over town. Maybe even go statewide. “We could do our own TV show,” he went on, “just like that Robert Schula fella with that church you can see through.”
    There would be no stopping him now.
    It’s a dangerous thing to ask the Spirit to lead you. You never know what might happen. But it doesn’t mean we should stop asking. Even though we get our wires crossed, we need to keep at it. Because someday someone might grow tired of sin and walk right in. And when they do, we need to be here for them.
    Turn toward home. We’ll be here.
    God is gracious. Don’t you fear.

Nine
The Birds and the Bees
    T he day before Billy Bundle, the World’s Shortest Evangelist, came to preach our revival, it occurred to me I needed a secretary. Back in April, the elders had put me in charge of calling Bob Miles Jr. at the Herald to arrange publicity, which I forgot to do even though I had written it on my to-do list: Call B.M. regarding B.B. I spent the next two months trying to decipher my own note, and by the time I figured it out, Billy Bundle was on his way.
    At first I thought I was supposed to call Bea Majors about the Bible Bonanza, when we donated Bibles to the Choctaw Indians, but when I called to remind her she said the Bible Bonanza wasn’t for another eight months. Then I thought it meant I was supposed to call Bill Muldock about buying new baseball bats for our men’s softball team, not that it would help. In fifteen years, our men’s softball team had won only one game. We beat the Friendly Women’s Circle, who rallied in the last inning when my grandmother hit ahome