Many years ago, I established and managed a furniture and floor coverings store in a town in Victoria and one of my regular customers was the Mother Superior of the local Convent of Mercy. I sold her single, bookend beds and mattresses — heaps of them! The bookend had a press-button light, which made reading in bed easy and the package of single bed with wire base, bookend, light and mattress for just $29.95.
I delivered the beds myself, climbing stairs carrying mattresses, all the while careful not to accidentally knock over a statue of the venerated Virgin Mary or Joseph along the way. Having been raised in Protestant churches, the Catholic religion was to me largely unknown. (Not that I was a Christian at the time, just a son of Christian parents.) The Mother Superior was a nice lady and one day while chatting she asked me where I had grown up. “In Bendigo”, I replied (a city in Central Victoria best-known for the Gold Rush that took place there in the mid-1800s).
The Mother Superior mentioned the name of a coffee shop in Pall Mall, the main street of Bendigo. “Do you remember it?” she asked. “Yes, I do,” I responded, “It was the best-known coffee shop in Bendigo, located next to The Fountain in the heart of the city.” I knew that it was owned and managed by an Italian family and well-known for the quality of its coffee and mediterranean-style food.
“That is my family!” The Mother Superior’s wide smile that had broken out on her normally self-composed face and in that moment or two both of us were again Bendigonians! She asked me if I was a Christian and I affirmed that I was indeed. Then I mentioned that my wife Lorraine and I travelled around screening missionary films with a 16mm projector. She asked me if I would come and screen one for herself and the Sisters in the Convent. “I would be happy to do so,” I responded.
And so it was that one evening, a week later, I rolled up in my Combi Van to the gates of the convent and offloaded the projector, film, screen, and assorted cords. No fewer than 28 Sisters of Mercy stood waiting to greet me, one of them my Home City friend of Yesteryear, the Mother Superior.
Without ado, I flicked a button on my old Bell & Howell projector and on the screen appeared American missionary and evangelist T L Osborn. The setting was the Netherlands and the film’s title was “Holland Wonder”. A massed crowd of well over 100,000 people had gathered to hear T L Osborn preach the Gospel and then minister God’s healing power to those among it who were sick, injured or diseased. Many of those present were on crutches or in wheelchairs.
T L Osborn had not long before decided that instead of laying his hands on these — a physically impossible task due to the size of the crowd standing in an open field. After preaching and inviting those present to accept Jesus as their Lord and then inviting those who responded to raise their hands and pray a mass prayer of acceptance and repentance, the evangelist prayed a mass prayer for everyone in what seemed an unending crowd — whatever their need.
Shouts broke out in the crowd as those who were crippled jumped to their feet, or threw away their crutches, and some of those lined up in wheelchairs at the front rose out of them and walked! Some did so carefully, others more dramatically! And then, from the crowd came all those healed by the Lord Jesus. They made their way to the front, walked up the stairs of the platform, and began telling their accounts of their healing into waiting microphones.
I had expected the nuns to view the spectacle with a degree of reservation — after all, they were pious Catholics, not loud Pentecostals. But from them came Amens and other noises of quiet verbal acceptance. I was surprised and a bit puzzled, but that was not so. Some nuns were quieter than others, but then so too are some Pentecostals.
The Mother Superior thanked me for coming and some nuns brought me tea and biscuits, and soon after I took my leave from the Mother Superior with thanks and began reloading my Kombi Van with the equipment. Then came what to me was the highlight of the evening — I still remember it so clearly: a nun appeared next to me in the darkness, half-lit by light coming out from the open doorway. One of the Sisters of Mercy, about my age, in her late twenties. “Yes, Sister?” I asked.
“Peter,” she said softly, “Isn’t it wonderful that we believe the same things!” I was touched. “Well, no, Sister,” I said. “I have to say that we don’t…” Her eyelids dropped. “However,” I continued, “What is wonderful is that we all believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord.” With that, the nun beamed me a smile and said: “Yes, it is, Peter” — and then disappeared quietly through the door.
I drove the 20 miles back home and praised God all the way! I didn’t yell but gave thanks to the Lord for the Mother Superior and the nuns for accepting the film and its message of God’s saving grace and healing power. I never saw the Convent of Mercy or its Mother Superior again. Maybe they’d bought all the beds they needed. Anyway, not long after we left Victoria to make our home in Queensland.
No matter! That evening had been and still is one of my most memorable — especially those quiet few moments with that Sister outside the meeting, which is one of my favourite Memorable Moments in Ministry.