I have a confession to make.
I spent the night in a heated debate with a young man I’ve never met.
Over a turnpike that may or may not take our farm.
I’ve called our Representative, the Governor, and the Turnpike Authority.
I’ve been interviewed by News 9, and the Daily Oklahoman.
I’ve told everyone and anyone what I think about this new Highway, this road that will roll over anyone and everyone in it’s path. The horror. The atrocity. The political corruptness. The bold faced lies.
It makes me fighting mad.
I look at the houses in the path of the giant X’s on the map, and realize most of them have no idea that they are in the path of destruction. If only they KNEW!!! If they knew what was coming, they would wake up and fight for their lives, their homes, their farms.
I considered going door to door, printing flyers for all the farms in the swath. Hanging them on their gates. Getting the word out before it’s too late.
Then I heard it. Amazingly, I heard it. In spite of my plannning and fuming and debating, somehow, I heard it.
When have you knocked on doors to tell them about Me?
Ummm. Huh? Sorry. I didn’t quite catch that…oh, well….maybe I could add a little Bible verse at the bottom of the flyer, would that count?
They’re living their lives, going about their business, and they don’t even suspect that it’s all temporary. The Turnpike may take their home, their farm, their way of life, but it’s all just dust anyway.
What will it take to get you to be this angry about the highway to Hell? The devil is paving it as we speak. He’s surveying his territory and counting up the tolls. He may need to widen it to twelve lanes, traffic is getting thick.
But I’m too busy debating and doing interviews and mapping the X’s to worry about that.
Oh. Right. Ok. Maybe I’ll get up out of bed and write, right now.
Before I close my eyes and forget that time is running out.
I may never get a call from The New York Times, asking me for my advice on things Eternal, but for now, He’s given me a voice. It’s not a very loud voice. It’s not a very eloquent voice. I say “like” too much. I repeat myself. I have a tendency to run on…and on…
But it’s the voice I have. So I’ll do the best I can…
Friends. Don’t worry about this life. About what you’ll do if the government takes your land, your home, your life. Look at the lilies of the fields you love. God makes them beautiful, even though they’re gone tomorrow. Enjoy what you have today. Live your beautiful life for the Lord, and no one can take it from you.
And when the devil comes for his toll, you’ll have a pikepass for Heaven that he can’t touch or take from you. Paid for with the blood of Jesus Christ.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also….
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your lifee ?
“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6)
Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to go door to door passing out flyers for Jesus.
Maybe someday I’ll get a call from the New York Times about my view on Salvation.
Maybe News 9 will call and do a story on Christianity today and ask for my five second interview.
Until then, I’ll share with you, my poor, long suffering readers. You know who you are.
And in case you haven’t picked up on it yet, I’m preaching to myself here. I’m still a coward at heart, shaking in my boots.