E-vangie Tales #62 A Drop in the Bucket
Just one word. Maybe two. A whole sentence with the word “Jesus” in it. Friendly reminders that He loves them. Tell the whole gospel: Christ died, was buried and rose again. God will use what you say…
“Hi Yolanda! Guess what?” I asked perkily.
With feigned excitement the Rite-Aid clerk answered, “Jesus loves me.”
“And why’s that?”
In staccato, she replied with great bemusement, “Because he died for all of us.” I could almost see her eyes role.
Everytime I see Yolanda I tell her the same thing; it’s almost a game. She expects it. I speak, she mocks. The truth ignored but still she hears. Someday though, someday…
Drip.
Glenn bugged me. Greasy long hair, large-framed glasses and a big black Bible that he’d thump while I worked at Vons on the frozen foods aisle in ”78 or ”79. He insisted that I turn my life over to Jesus. I mocked. Undeterred, he persisted.
Drip.
Eddie was a joyous black man with reddish hair who was an assistant manager at Vons in the eighties. Despite my protests and sarcasm towards his Jesus, time and again he told me that God loved me.
My best friend’s wife nagged me relentlessly about Jesus being the only way. I scoffed and belittled. Their home was the refuge sought when in a drug induced panic I thought the rapture had occurred.
In 1990 on meth, I sold stereos at the Victorville Swapmeet. The camoflauged couple kept their headlights trained on me as I furiously packed away my equipment in the dark because I miscalculated sunset. Their gift, a Gospel of John, sat in a bucket next to my drivers’ seat.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I challenged Satan to show himself to me while standing in a barren field in Riverside at midnight. Soon after, I lost it all.
Full.
Then life eternal.
Memories.
*****
-Ray Comfort gets beat up for sharing the Gospel. He’ll be at our Sunday night service on July 31 at 6pm, here at Hope Chapel with “Hell’s Best Kept Secret”.