A missionary, speaking of the need on the foreign fields, was to receive an offering to help out with the work. A man was sitting next to the aisle about halfway up. He had folded his arms and sat with a grim look, a scowl and a frown. He evidently didn’t want to be there. Perhaps his wife had made him come. When the usher held the plate in front of him, he just shook his head. The usher jiggled the plate invitingly. Still the only response was the head shake. The usher leaned over and whispered, “It’s for missions, you know.” Still the scowl and a mumbled sentence, “I don’t believe in ‘em.” This usher was a sharp man.

He leaned down and said, “Then you take some out. It’s for the heathen, anyway.”

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