When ever I’d go to the bank or the post office or the grocery store, I’d always be sure to use the pen they had for irresponsible people. If I liked the pen or it wrote well, I’d absentmindedly drop the pen in my purse after writing out the check. If someone were to speak to me about it, I’d defend myself by saying, “Oh, I’m sorry, I must have thought it was mine.” If I got away with it, I’d justify it in my mind by telling myself, “don’t worry about it, people do it all the time, they have plenty more pens to put out there”. But I knew it was wrong.
When I was a little girl in the first or second grade, Cricket was hit by a car. Cricket was this great, big fluffy cat that I could barely lift. She died in my arms and I was devastated. I cried and cried and I was hugging my kitty and wouldn’t let her go. My father wanted to bury her and I didn’t want him to. Either my mother or my father told me that I had to let him bury her so the angels could come and carry her away to heaven. At some point after my beloved kitty died, I was looking out into the back yard and I remember seeing two white angels floating above the ground where Cricket was buried. I don’t know whether I dreamt that or it was my vivid imagination kicking into overtime mode or what it was. Maybe it was my mind building up a wall of justification so that I could deal with the death of Cricket.
Every year when I was young I remember Santa Claus would come to our house on Christmas Eve and inundate the tree with so many gifts that if you were to ask me what my favorite childhood Christmas gift from Santa was I can’t think of one that sticks out in my mind. We were so spoiled. One year Christmas Eve came but Santa did not. I believe it was the year that my parents were divorced. Although my sister and I found out the truth about Santa that year, I wanted to believe it was because we were naughty and we didn’t deserve gifts that year.
Even after remembering what it was like to find out the truth about Santa, when I became a parent, I did the same thing to my kids; played Santa on Christmas Eve until they were old enough to realize that Santa Claus doesn't really exist. Why would we do that? Why would we let our kids or anyone for that matter believe something that we know is not true? We justify it because it’s easier to hide behind a figment and go along with what everyone else is doing or saying rather than face the truth.
Once I understood the gospel and accepted Jesus I began to wonder about the people out there that have never heard the gospel, never read a Bible, and don’t know who Jesus is. “What happens to them when they die? If they don’t know, will they still go to hell?” Romans 1:18-19
Although sinful people mentally recognize the truth about God, they choose to suppress it but they are without excuse. It is so important for us to share everything we can. We need to tear down those steel walls and feed those skinny dogs the truth. Take the unbeaten path, take the road less travelled.
©Crackerberries 2008
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