32 Years a Slave
This old photo from my “other life” circa 1980, reminds me of my “stupid 20s,” when I had no sense, lived for myself, and cared not a whit about anybody else.
I was at Hussong’s Cantina in Ensenada, Mexico, and decided it would be a good idea to dance on top of a table.
Suddenly, two Federales grabbed my shoulders and escorted me to the shadows.
Thankfully, a Mexican local, whom I did not know, followed us into the “torture room” and negotiated my release. (I’m the smug, shirtless guy standing next to one of the arresting officiales.)
Today, December 2nd, not only marks the day that shiftless guy died in 1990, but also marks my 32nd anniversary as a Christian, a bond-slave of Jesus Christ, an unworthy servant, worm, wretch—completely dependent on my Master for life and breath and everything I have.
This picture is a great reminder of what the Lord has done in my life…and in the lives of so many others.
28 Days Later
The preacher was shaking hands with his congregants and saying goodbye after the Easter service. He grabbed one man by the hand and pulled him aside. “You need to join the Army of the Lord!” the preacher exhorted.
The man replied, “I’m already in the Army of the Lord, Pastor.”
Curious, the preacher asked, “How come I don’t see you except at Christmas and Easter?”
The man looked around cautiously and whispered back, “I’m in the Secret Service.”
We had record attendance at our Resurrection Day service this year, but on May 15, 28 days later, four Sundays after, everything was back to normal.
It’s tough in this post-Christian era to get people to see the value of coming to church after the two big holidays of Easter and Christmas. But a Christian without a church is like a student who won’t go to school, a soldier without an army, a citizen who won’t vote, a sailor without a ship, a drummer without a band, a ballplayer without a team or a bee without a hive.
A pastor asked a man why he didn’t go to church, and he replied, “I don’t go to church because every time I do they throw something at me.”
“What do you mean?” the preacher inquired.”
“Well,” the man explained, “When I was a baby, my parents took me to church, and the minister threw water on me. After I got married, they threw rice at me.”
The pastor answered the man impatiently,
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