Thursday, August 21, 2014

That Lonely Silly Man

The peace in that beautiful clean church was broken by a visitor one bright Sunday morning. A coarse, wheat brown colored "bath robe" like garment, wrap his body. Unlike the sparkling clean church and other's stiff clean ties, the robe sported dinginess here and there, and its owners feet were bear and dusty. Unshaven for days, stubble marked his face, and finger length curly hair topped his crown.


How disrespectful. How inappropriate. Disrespect for order, that's what. What gall. And then he starts talking....that's when it gets really strange.

We are to give food to the poor - invite them to our meals? Never, such dirty and uncouthed people in my house! Our lives must be moral, repent from sin? He has it messed up, God is the God of love - he forgives - we can continue to sin that's works salvation - does he not understand? Obey God, who can do that? We should be out telling others the Gospel? That would make us look foolish and would offend others. Visit those in jail - naw, they're evil people, they deserve loneliness - plus they could hurt me. Love all - including those who hate me....OK, that's over the top - that's just stupid.

Good for them, articulately but forcefully, church leaders tell him to shut-up - he's disturbing the peace and order - as we know God loves order. But no, that man seems to know how to talk, he asks questions he makes statements, he seems to know how to cut right into our heart.

Now he says his is from God, sent from God, he is God, he is his son! Blasphemy!

All the most notable men and women of the church agree, this man must leave.

He calls them hypocrites and snakes. What gall! Those men of God should'nt be disrespected like that! Shame on him! The uproar he has caused, disturbing the peace tracking in dust on the sacred floor from his bear-feet, order must be restored. Defenestrated onto the concrete walk, he picks himself up and hobbles away.

Going home I pass him walking down the road, alone. What if? . . . was he right? . . .Oh well. . . I got my life to live.

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