On a recent trip to Catalina Island I could not resist temptation.
I was cautioned by someone very close to me to be extremely careful about handing out the Million-Dollar bill Gospel tracts on this visit. Why? My Dad and his wife were paying for the trip—and he is not saved…
The boat to the island was not 15 minutes out of dock when I travelled downstairs with my daughters to have a look-see. I handed a bill to the uniformed attendant behind the snack bar, but she didn’t take it. “You’re doing a great job!” I said. “Here’s a big tip.” I flashed a winning smile.
She didn’t reciprocate.
I dropped the Gospel tract on the counter anyway, then walked to the stern of the boat while holding the hands of my girls.
We turned around and walked back past the snack counter. I dropped a couple of the millions on the laps of two passengers. “Here’s some spending money for your trip,” I said cheerfully. They smiled and nodded appreciatively.”
The uniformed snack lady barked out a command, “Do not hand out any more of those! We don’t appreciate that!”
My daughter D.D. rolled her eyes with a Oh no, not again look, . “I’m sorry,” I replied to Admiral Heath Bar. “I won’t do it anymore.”
I felt like a wimp. Right from the get go, I was nabbed. I had no First Ammendment Rights to appeal to because I was on a private cruiser. If I continued to hand out tracts they just might call the Coast Guard—maybe even keel-haul me. I didn’t want to risk a nice pleasant trip by having all of us—Dad included—left adrift in a life raft or marooned on a desert island tourist-trap.
All sorts of fearful thoughts crossed my mind.
So I stopped.