I had just finished listening to the testimony of a guy who had been down and out, addicted to drugs and alcohol, he lost his job, home and family. His up lifting experience with salvation and Jesus Christ had completely turned his life around. It was inspiring to say the least.
I also found myself thinking, man I am sure glad I never had to go through all of that to find Christ. I was saved when I was 19 and have had a few stumbles along the way but all in all no major tragic life failures. No drugs, no alcohol problem, no jail time, my kid actually likes me. Ok, I blew the marriage but we all seemed to recover from that and lead very nice normal lives.
I sure am one fortunate guy and God has been really good to me. I am truly thankful that I did not need to have one of these cliff hanger life encounters to lead me to Christ.
It also got me thinking. What about the "normal" guy. The unsaved guy or gal who works hard, provides for their family, has never had a major life catastrophe. Alcohol, drugs, sex, infidelity, all of those things that can send life spiraling out of control, are actually under control or so they seem.
But he or she has never had a life changing salvation experience?
What's in this salvation thing for them?
So let's say that's you.
Just a normal person with most of life under control. Why worry about all of this salvation talk..
Let's start with a some basics.
First, in our society we strive to be self sufficient. We don't want to depend on anyone including God. Accepting the fact we may just not have everything under control is tough.
Second, if you are truly a normal person, I'll bet you believe the Bible. Oh, you may have some questions about some of it, but for the most part you believe what's there.
Third, You could be right. At this point in your life help is not what you need. You very well may not need Christ the crutch but you do need Christ the rock.
You may think all of that "sin" stuff doesn't apply to you.
Start with this: Being normal or good does not reconcile you with God.
For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God
. New Testament Romans 3.23
That is an "all" there. That means all of us are in the same boat.
An anonymous Poet wrote:
Amazing thought! that God in flesh
Would take my place and bear my sin;
That I, a guilty, death-doomed soul,
Eternal life might win! —Anon.
No matter how good things are if you really look down deep it may seem like something is missing. Nothing makes a life, no matter how good or normal it may be, better and more complete than a loving relationship with Christ.
If you have not accepted Christ as your Savior, things may be going pretty good right now, but what arrangements have you made for eternity?
Where would you turn if things suddenly went bad?
Your soul does not end up in the grave or the urn, it lives on. Where will eternity be?
Wouldn't be wonderful to have the peace that passes all understanding in your life?
You can take the first step by praying this simple prayer:
Dear Lord:
I am sorry for my sins. I believe that Jesus died on the cross and rose from the grave on the third day to save me from my sins.
Please forgive me of all my sins and come into my heart and save me.
I accept you now as my savior.
Thank you Lord for saving me today
In Jesus name I pray
Amen.
Don't stop here. Talk to you Pastor, if you don't have one find one.
Don't keep this a secret. Make a public profession of your faith.
If you have found Christ as your personal savior share this with a friend or via Facebook or TWITTER.
May God bless you.......
Watching the Sky - a short story by Judith A. Sears
It was a robin, probably a female, because her breast was speckled and not orange. I’m not sure what happened to her. I found her fluttering on the pavement in front of my house.
Now when I was a child, I would have scooped her up and taken her home. I would have tried to nurse her back to health, fixed a broken wing, saved her life, somehow. I’m practical, I guess, and certainly no bird rescuer. But the “little kid” that still lingers inside me wanted to console her because that would comfort me.
I know (like adults know these things) that the poor bird was doomed and not something I should be handling. It was hard to watch and do nothing.
Spring is long gone, so there are no baby birds waiting in a nest for her to return. I don’t think robins mate for life, so there was no special someone to worry or search for his wounded love. There was no one but me there.
Standing vigil, I was anxious about the feral cats that prowl my neighborhood. But we were alone. No cats, no birds, not even any other people showed up for the longest while. And when someone finally did approach I scrambled back into my house and watched out the window. Kids. They just walked by and didn’t even notice her lying there, quiet now. I was sure she was dead.
I watched for a moment to be sure, she lay on her side, still. I went to get a paper towel to clean up the pavement. All the while I realize I am harboring a hope that she will not be there when I get back.
I could easily let myself believe that she had recovered and flown away, never that a dog or cat took off with her. But no, she was still there and still dead. I had to steal myself, feeling the cold bony body through the paper towel. I stood there holding her for a moment thinking about the alternatives, bury her like the child in me felt was only right or put her in the dumpster with the refuse.
So, of course, I took my little garden spade and dug a hole in the back yard. There I laid her to rest with a silent eulogy.
This morning when I was taking my morning walk I noticed that the grave was open and her body was gone. The adult in me eyed every dog I met with suspicion. The child in me, forever believing in resurrection, is watching the sky.
©9/2012 Judith A. Sears
Now when I was a child, I would have scooped her up and taken her home. I would have tried to nurse her back to health, fixed a broken wing, saved her life, somehow. I’m practical, I guess, and certainly no bird rescuer. But the “little kid” that still lingers inside me wanted to console her because that would comfort me.
I know (like adults know these things) that the poor bird was doomed and not something I should be handling. It was hard to watch and do nothing.
Spring is long gone, so there are no baby birds waiting in a nest for her to return. I don’t think robins mate for life, so there was no special someone to worry or search for his wounded love. There was no one but me there.
Standing vigil, I was anxious about the feral cats that prowl my neighborhood. But we were alone. No cats, no birds, not even any other people showed up for the longest while. And when someone finally did approach I scrambled back into my house and watched out the window. Kids. They just walked by and didn’t even notice her lying there, quiet now. I was sure she was dead.
I watched for a moment to be sure, she lay on her side, still. I went to get a paper towel to clean up the pavement. All the while I realize I am harboring a hope that she will not be there when I get back.
I could easily let myself believe that she had recovered and flown away, never that a dog or cat took off with her. But no, she was still there and still dead. I had to steal myself, feeling the cold bony body through the paper towel. I stood there holding her for a moment thinking about the alternatives, bury her like the child in me felt was only right or put her in the dumpster with the refuse.
So, of course, I took my little garden spade and dug a hole in the back yard. There I laid her to rest with a silent eulogy.
This morning when I was taking my morning walk I noticed that the grave was open and her body was gone. The adult in me eyed every dog I met with suspicion. The child in me, forever believing in resurrection, is watching the sky.
©9/2012 Judith A. Sears
Freely Walking by Judith A. Sears
How I marvel at the effortlessness of walking.
Now, that I do not walk with the same ease
as when I was young.
I never thought then how much I would miss the free feelings
of an early morning stroll or an evening spent wandering.
My thoughtless movement from youth on grass
to middle age marching on pavement
to tread mill machines that take me nowhere
landing me back where I started only sore and aching.
I'd as soon dance as walk but fall demons pull me off balance
bringing my knees down to be torn by gravel.
So, that my cautiousness interferes with my progression
jailing the freely part of walking, in fear.
Avoiding fear is sitting alone hands shaking with desire
to go in sun and snow, easily, like a child
who can barely be contained to walking
for want of running unrestrained
a cheetah, liquid flowing through trees, hunting its prey
rather than me, stiff here between the tension of my anxiety
and my fond memory of esplanades on Sunday afternoons
or beaches at sunset.
©2013 Judith A. Sears
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