One Week Later...

So, we were out doing evangelism again this week. A street away from my soi-disant Buddhist.

We were having a good time; Jessie made up a song, borrowing an old Lewis Family tune: “So many years, so many houses… so many years, so many blessings, we’ll have eternity to share.”

A door opened and an honest man stepped out. When he heard I was from the church, he was not too pleased, a smirk of resignation on his face. I asked if he had a church.

No, he said, drawing it out, emphasizing being resigned to having to deal with creatures barely above Mormons.

I asked why not.

He said, “I don’t go.”

“Too ornery?”

A smile, albeit faint. “I guess so.”

“Well,” I says, “you’ll die and face the judgment same as all of us. When you want to get ready before that day, come see us,” and I handed him my card.

This I will deal with, I’ll talk to this guy. I expect to be back. I expect he’ll talk to me. Just don’t feed me a line of bull. You don’t go, you hate God, you think preachers are idiots, immoral, both or worse, whatever, just don’t bs me. You can run me, you can beat me, just don’t bs me.