As small as our church buildings were, we grew wherever we presented the "Catholic fullness" of our Faith. One day, a Protestant Swedenborgian Church minister, The Reverend Sherman Newton, called on me. "Your church may be tiny, and stuck in a dusty side street, but you can be proud to belong to it. You can preach the whole Gospel, and you belong to a historical church! If I don't mention Emanuel Swedenborg,(1688-1772 AD) the founder of our Church (which is now also called "The New Church") during my services I am in trouble!"
Seventeen years later, a letter arrived in the post. "Dear Ray, do you remember calling at my parents' home in Great Bend? Though none of us were members of your church, you still yanked the screen door open and called out, 'Is the coffee pot on?' Do you recall asking me to carry the processional cross? I had hurt my foot and it was in plaster. When we met, you said reassuringly, 'Marching with your foot in a plaster cast is just what a Christian soldier would do!' I never forgot that day and now I am here in Texas with my wife and family studying for the ministry." I thought, "Fancy thinking that our back alley church was no use!" My four churches were very different. In McPherson, several home groups had been meeting for more than ten years. Now they were looking for a larger building which turned out to be in the local funeral hall!