At one time in my dark and dismal past, I was an over-the-road truck driver. For about 8 months I worked for a company that would send me just about anywhere. I hated staying at truck stops because of the stuff that sometimes goes on there, but did one some occasions, as some states don't have enough good places to stay, and some do not let you park in rest areas for long or on ramps. Some even frown on parking at delivery points for the night, if they are too close to residential areas.
So it was Sunday, and I was at a truck stop, can't recall where or what kind, but it was in hte south somewhere. They had signs up that there was a church service in the morning, so I made plans to attend, which I did. There were maybe about 4-5 drivers in the room when the "hosts" arrived, a family of about 5. They quickly got down to business, introducing themselves and we sang a song or two. Then came the sermon. It was given by the son, who seemed to be in his early teens. I don't recall the topic or a word that was said, but I do recall the volume. It was LOUD, from start to finish. Over-the-top, in-your-face loud, hell-fire and brimstone. I remember wanting to leave, but not being sure that was the right thing to do.
All I could wonder was, what were the other drivers thinking? Were they believers already, or was this a first church experience for one or more of them.
When it was over, the family left as quickly as they had come. I think the rest just sat there in shock for a few moments, and then left without saying a word.
As I look back at it today, it saddens me more now than it did then. How does it make you feel?