I know it's long, but for your own life, please read this...
The other day I was at the grocery store, standing in line, waiting to be checked out. The usual banter between shoppers ensued. The lady in front of me, who had three kids in tow under the age of six and a cart full of groceries, was frantically trying to keep them all out of the ubiquitous candy and magazines and knickknacks at the register. Her hair was disheveled, her brow was furrowed and in between the 'no, nos,' she apologized. I smiled and told her not to worry, I remembered the days when I was doing the same.
There was an older, stooped man behind me. He wore tan trousers, a blue-plaid shirt with the collar buttoned down, soft, brown, leather shoes and a grey cardigan sweater [it was supposed to be ninety-one degrees that day]. The sweater had buttons that were worked to look like they were made of some material, but they were just plastic. Some of the black had rubbed off and you could see the white underneath. He was counting out his loose change from his pocket to make sure he got the least amount of change back. He muttered something about, “in my day.”
Just behind him was a younger lady, maybe from U of I. She looked to have just finished a work out, or practice. She had maroon shorts on, was wearing running shoes and a long-sleeved, black dry-fit shirt with the swoosh on it. She had an arm band mp3 player, with ear buds in. I could make out some kind of music with deep bass. She half whispered the lyrics and was kind of just looking at nothing, over toward the produce section.
A well dressed man, maybe in his thirties, stood behind her, Dress shirt, tie and glasses made him look, I don't know, lawyerish. He had one of those hand baskets that you carry when you're not picking up much. In it was a bottle of wine, a bundle of daisies and some crackers and cheese. It looked like it would be a special night, perhaps a proposal.
The lady with the children had finished. She was pushing her cart away, kids yelling about some candy they didn’t get. I walked up with my milk, bread and eggs [no there wasn't a snow storm coming] and several other items. I greeted the cashier and asked how her day was going. She was an older woman and had been working at this store for years. She was always pleasant and always efficient. She said she was fine as she wisked items past the scanner and said she was off in twenty minutes.
It was then that I caught the conversation in the next line. Two young men, dressed in hoodies, were talking about a place that they were going to that night. But it wasn’t a concert, or one or the other’s house, they said they were going to [*****please fill in your address here*****]. I recognized this address as someone I knew - you. They said their plan was to go to this house to steal some stuff and then kill whoever was home. They didn’t say the last part out loud, but one of them pulled his finger across his neck and the other smiled an evil grin, patting a bulge in his hoodie pocket.
I froze. The sounds of others in line, cash registers, people at the bank window near by all were gone. The only sound I could hear was my own pulse pounding in my ears.
The cashier must have said sir several times from the look on her face and the impatience of the others in line. The old gentleman was practically in my pocket. I realized, no one else had heard the young men. The old man was now muttering something else. I slid my card into the machine, got my receipt, grabbed my bags and headed for the door. The young men, boys really, upon closer inspection, were exiting their line too, and bumped into me. The one with the gun looked at me and said something I cannot repeat. It surprised me, as I was in my clerical collar.
I walked out and got in my car. My hands were trembling and it took several attempts to get my key into the ignition. I started the car and sat there for a few minutes. Looking up, I could see the two boys, laughing, having yelled at a passing car, and walking down the street.
I drove home and put away my groceries. All night - while I was making my supper and later while I was watching TV - I pondered this horrific dilemma. I went to bed with dread on my heart. The next morning I got up, put on the coffee, turned on the TV and started to make my breakfast. As I was boiling the water for my oats I heard the news talking about a shooting. I listened intently, paying no attention to the hissing, spitting water on my stove. Suddenly, there it was [*****please fill in your name*****] had been shot and killed during a robbery in their home. I broke down and sobbed. People I knew were dead. You were dead. I hadn't called, hadn't texted, hadn't driven to your house to tell you what I knew was coming. I simply let it happen. The water was boiling over on the stove.
This is what I let happen every time I don't tell someone about Jesus, every time I don't invite someone to church, every time I don't ask someone why I didn't see him or her in church. It's as if I overheard the devil's plan to sneak in to your house with robbery and murder in mind. Because the Bible, GOD'S Holy, inerrant Word, tells me exactly that - the devil's plans. Plans for all who don't believe, all who don't live a life of repentance and faith in Jesus Christ.
The Bible also tells me GOD'S plan of salvation and forgiveness and life and Heaven - in Jesus Christ. It tells me of how, as a believer, I will want to be in church, want to love Him with my heart, soul and mind, want love my neighbor as myself, want to walk in His ways, want to pray, want to praise Him, want to be among others who are on this road!
But if I don't tell YOU - someone I call friend - about this, and I let you continue in your ways, knowing fully what will happen when Jesus comes again, and you've lived a faithless, lip-service life, a life with the devil robbing and murdering you and your family…
...what kind of friend am I?
See you in church Sunday...
Love -
Pastor Ray
"And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.” Acts 4.12
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