Dear Aunt Molly

I don’t know why I thought of Molly Brewster. I met the dear old lady back in the late 70s. I was not yet thirty. She was in her 90s.

I happened upon her while visiting someone else at a hospital in Springfield, MO. As I passed her room and glanced in, she was lying in bed and looking very lonely. I stepped in, introduced myself, and asked if she’d like to talk about Jesus. Her eyes brightened. And for the next little bit we talked about our common salvation.

That was not the last time we talked. I was so enamored of this little old lady – who couldn’t have weighted more than 90 pounds – I was so taken with her love for Jesus, that I visited her a few more times while she was a patient, and then followed her to the nursing home where she spent the remaining months of her life. Nancy and I visited her regularly until she died.

Yet even now, some 50 years later, when I think of dear ‘aunt’ Molly – as she wanted Nancy and me to call her – when I think of her I can almost hear her say in her crackling southern drawl, “Child, Armageddon has come.”

“Armageddon has come.” She must have assured us of that promise a hundred times.

She loved the Lord’s coming so deeply that she simply KNEW it couldn’t be more than a few more days before He returned and brought His blood-bought children home.

If Aunt Molly thought the 70s were evidence that Armageddon had come, what would she think today in 2020?


Armageddon has come.

The older I get, and the more I see of our world, the more convinced I become that Armageddon has indeed come. Or it’s only days away.

Well, not likely ‘days.’ But perhaps I thought of her tonight because I am more often also saying with the apostle Paul, “Maranatha, Lord Jesus. Oh, Lord, come quickly.”