JUST 
        CHECKING IN 
A 
        minister passing through his church 
In 
        the middle of the day, 
Decided 
        to pause by the altar 
And 
        see who had come to pray. 
Just 
        then the back door opened, 
A 
        man came down the aisle, 
The 
        minister frowned as he saw 
The 
        man hadn't shaved in a while. 
His 
        shirt was kinda shabby 
And 
        his coat was worn and frayed, 
The 
        man knelt, he bowed his head, 
Then 
        rose and walked away. 
In 
        the days that followed, 
Each 
        noon 
        time came this chap, 
Each 
        time he knelt just for a moment, 
A 
        lunch pail in his lap. 
Well, 
        the minister's suspicions grew, 
With 
        robbery a main fear, 
He 
        decided to stop the man and ask him, 
'What 
        are you doing here?' 
The 
        old man said, he worked down the road. 
Lunch 
        was half an hour. 
Lunchtime 
        was his prayer time, 
For 
        finding strength and power. 
'I 
        stay only moments, see, 
Because 
        the factory is so far away; 
As 
        I kneel here talking to the Lord, 
This 
        is kinda what I say: 
'I 
        JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD, 
HOW 
        HAPPY I'VE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHERS FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY 
        MY SIN. DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY. 
        
SO, 
        JESUS, THIS IS MIKE CHECKING IN TODAY.' 
The 
        minister  feeling foolish, 
Told 
        Mike, that was fine. 
He 
        told the man he was welcome 
To 
        come and pray just anytime 
Time 
        to go, Mike smiled, said 'Thanks.' 
He 
        hurried to the door. 
The 
        minister knelt at the altar, 
He'd 
        never done it before. 
His 
        cold heart melted, warmed with love, 
And 
        met with Jesus there. 
As 
        the tears flowed, in his heart, 
He 
        repeated old Mike's prayer: 
'I 
        JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD, 
HOW 
        HAPPY I'VE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHERS FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY 
        MY SIN. I DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU 
        EVERYDAY. 
SO, 
        JESUS, THIS IS ME CHECKING IN TODAY..' 
Past 
        noon 
        one day, the minister noticed 
That 
        old Mike hadn't come. 
As 
        more days passed without Mike, 
He 
        began to worry some. 
At 
        the factory, he asked about him, 
Learning 
        he was ill. 
The 
        hospital staff was worried, 
But 
        he'd given them a thrill. 
The 
        week that Mike was with them, 
Brought 
        changes in the ward. 
His 
        smiles, a joy contagious. 
Changed 
        people, were his reward. 
The 
        head nurse couldn't understand 
Why 
        Mike was so glad, 
When 
        no flowers, calls or cards came, 
Not 
        a visitor he had. 
The 
        minister stayed by his bed, 
He 
        voiced the nurse's concern: 
No 
        friends came to show they cared. 
He 
        had nowhere to turn. 
Looking 
        surprised, old Mike spoke 
Up 
        and with a winsome smile; 
'the 
        nurse is wrong, she couldn't know, 
That 
        he's in here all the while 
Every 
        day at noon 
        He's here, 
A 
        dear friend of mine, you see, 
He 
        sits right down, takes my hand, 
Leans 
        over and says to me: 
'I 
        JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, MIKE, 
HOW 
        HAPPY I HAVE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND THIS FRIENDSHIP, AND I TOOK AWAY YOUR 
        SIN. 
ALWAYS 
        LOVE TO HEAR YOU PRAY, 
I 
        THINK ABOUT YOU EACH DAY, AND SO Mike, THIS IS JESUS CHECKING IN TODAY.' 
        
My Aunt Jeannie Sent me this, and under the story it said: "If you are not ashamed of Jesus, pass it on" I have done so. I saw no Copyright attached hereto, but it would seem to me that someone took effort and time to write and edit this short story. I do not claim it as my own, and publish it here only to hope that it might change a day or even a moment in someone's life. God Bless Ya! Pass it on.
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