I was cleaning out my garage the other day when a man, obviously drunk, staggered over to look at my junk. Thinking that I was having a garage sale, he pointed to an old strand-cruiser leaning against a wall and announced, “I’m looking for bikes—like that one!”
“It’s not for sale, but here’s a million dollar bill.” He refused to take the gospel tract, waving it away. I insisted until he gave in and shoved it in his pocket. “Where do you think you will go when you die, Heaven or Hell?” I asked.
With brows arched he declared proudly, “I’m going to Heaven because I’m born again.”
“Are you drunk?”
“You’re darn right.”
“And you’re a Christian?”
“Yep! God gave us alcohol to drink!”
“You know,” I gently scolded, “drunkards will not enter the kingdom of Heaven…”
“That’s not true.” He changed the subject suddenly. “Do you believe in aliens?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you think Jesus was an alien?”
“No. I believe that he was the Son of God who came down to earth to save us from our sins.”
“The Bible says that there are aliens…”
“The Bible actually says that we are aliens and strangers in this world.”
“Oh…you’re just twisting the Bible around!”
“Jesus said that unless you repent, you too would perish. Have you thought about repentance?”
“I did, over and over again.”
He mumbled some other things then said his name was Bob. “How can I pray for you Bob?”
“No really,” I insisted. “How can I pray for you?”
Bob hesitated a moment. “I have cancer,” he confessed, and pointed to his jaw. “Here.” He then touched his chest, “And here. They call it chest cancer, but it’s breast cancer. I’m scared s—less of going to the doctor.”
At that point, eternity didn’t matter; only a touch from Jesus could make any kind of difference in this poor soul’s life. “Please let me pray for you, Bob. I’ll pray for God to heal you of all your cancer, okay?”
“Pray that God just lets me die,” he said with a sigh.
I laid my hands on Bob—unsure exactly how to pray—and asked for the Lord’s will to be done. We both stood there a few seconds in silence and I gave him a big hug and a handshake.
Bob wiped his eyes. He smiled a little. I gave him another hug.
And my strand-cruiser too.