Saturday, November 22, 2008

And Not A Drop To Drink

"I was going to end it all last week, but I guess I won't," the leathery old man told me. I listened as he related one tragic tale after another; his life seemingly filled with more sorrow than Job. I had shared the Gospel with him more than once before, but each time he changed the subject; each time rejected the offer of grace. So, this time I asked, "Do you pray?"

"Do you pray?"
he responded cynically. "See this light. I pull the string and it comes on. I pull it again and it goes off. I trust that string. I do not trust prayer. Pray if you want to, but I've never seen anything come of it." As he spoke I remembered the words in Scripture about the blinding of the eyes of the lost, and wondered if he would die before he believed.

When European explorers first reached the coast of Brazil, they were desperate for fresh water; many of them near death from lack of it. When they encountered the miles wide mouth of the Amazon, they mistook it for an inlet from the ocean; assuming it's water to be salty and so poisonous. They sailed up the river for several more days before realizing they were in the middle of more fresh water than they could ever drink. And, while they sailed, at least two more sailers died. Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

"That lady, do you know that lady who comes in here all the time?" I didn't know who my unbelieving old friend was talking about. He frowned and scornfully said, "She is always smiling, always happy. She comes in here prayin' all the time. She prays over there and prays over here," he said, pointing around his room, "Why is she always smiling?" I smiled, too, and said, "Maybe it's because she prays."


SelahV said...

Maybe you're right. Love it. selahV