You’re late.
You have a sense of urgency that is compounded by the multiple loud distractions in the back seat, unexpected road construction, and certain aged people that simply shouldn’t be on the road. It is only by the grace of God that you have kept some sense of sanity and refrained from letting loose a barrage of profanity that would be instantly implanted in the vocabulary of the young minds sitting the car seats behind you.
Deep breath.
But now on the open road – an opportunity to make up some lost time. Faster than the limit on the signs that whiz by, but within the “grace period” of miles per hour over the speed limit. At least, that is what you tell yourself.
But of course, the state trooper hidden over the next hill has a different opinion.
“Where’s the fire?!?”
“Well, Officer……”
You feel an impending sense of guilt. You are overwhelmed by the reality of God’s grace and forgiveness in this life and the promise of Heaven in the next. Yet, you know inherently that you have failed in the primary task of the great commission to take the gospel to your neighbors, and beyond.
Deep breath.
This remorse propels you to act. You desire to make up for lost time. You must be bold, unashamed. An overwhelming sense of love for others, compassion for their souls and their eternal destination without Christ causes you to be persistent, even reckless with sharing your faith. Praise of Jesus is always on your lips. You know we are living in a “grace period” before the Lord returns and it will be too late.
The world frowns at this overt Christian “proselytizing” and incessant references to Jesus, the Bible, and especially sin and Hell.
“Woah! Slow down; put on the brakes with this Christian stuff. After all what’s the rush? Where’s the fire?”
The fire is closer than you realize. It is already whipping at your heels. In the twinkling of an eye, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord. By then it will be too late. Today is the day of salvation. Jesus is watching and waiting…
Poem:
I Should Burn
I can already feel
the embers growing
the oxygen blowing
the flames destroying
I can already taste
the choking smoke
the ashen dust
the pillowing soot
I can already see
the fiery pit
forever lit
human torches
in writhing fits
Now I am running
like an antelope from the flames
to the only
firebreak that remains
And I bow before the
Cross of my beloved Lamb
who smothers the flames to death
and applies the healing balm
to restore life again
A Sinner's Diary 