"CAN I REALLY KNOW YOU?" 13
But Jim was my friend, and I didn't want to let him
down.
On the bus I said, "Jim, you'll never know what a tough
time I had with my father about this trip." You see, after my
conversion, my parents had done everything in their power
to keep me from attending church. And now a trip to
Pittsburgh? It was almost out of the question, but they
grudgingly gave their permission.
We left Toronto on Thursday about midmorning. And
what should have been a seven-hour trip was slowed by a
sudden snowstorm. We didn't arrive at our hotel until one
o'clock in the morning.
Then Jim said, "Benny, we have to be up at five."
"Five this morning?" I asked. "What for?"
He told me that if we weren't outside the doors of the
building by six o'clock, we'd never get a seat.
Well, I just couldn't believe it. Who'd ever heard of
standing in the freezing cold before sunrise to go to church?
But he said that was what we were supposed to do.
It was bitter cold. At five I got up and put on every bit
of clothing I could find: boots, gloves, the works. I looked
like an Eskimo.
We arrived at the First Presbyterian Church, downtown
Pittsburgh, while it was still dark. But what shocked me
was that hundreds of people were already there. And the
doors wouldn't open for two more hours.
Being small has some advantages. I began inching my
way closer and closer to the doors—and pulling Jim right
behind me. There were even people sleeping on the front
steps. A woman told me, "They've been here all night. It's
elliott
(Elliott)
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