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The bright idea view.
This Little Light Of Mine
I have been told that as a baby, I was plopped in the kitchen floor while Mother
worked at the counter. I found sugar that had been spilled on the floor and proceeded to
lick the sweet off of both hands as fast as I could go. [There is prophecy for that: Isaiah
7: 15&16]. Ever since then I have had a sweet tooth and a problem with self control.
My present problem is replacing a 100 watt light bulb. The choice is between a 23
watt florescent or a 75 watt incandescent. About then I noticed a shoppers guide that
suggested that I “might prefer indirect lighting so that the bulbs are mostly hidden from
view and all you see is the light, not the source.” Hummmmmmmmmm.
Brothers that will preach! If I do not appear to be the source then our LORD
JESUS gets the praise and glory. Please let me tell you a story concerning alms giving
that falls way outside any piramiter of self control or letting ones light shine that I have
ever dreamed of.
John 3:21 But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made
manifest, that they are wrought in God.
Our good deeds, or lack thereof, are of what the world takes note. The world finds
so much fault with done deeds or undone deeds that about 40 years ago I decided to not
defend or make excuse for myself. As Paul said: “I am what I am.”
Yesterday I learned something new about an intended good deed. May I share it
with you? There is something odd about intended good deeds, I learned it as a teenager.
No matter what you do do or do not do—the devil is going to point out to you that you
did it wrong. That was when I embraced Paul’s theology. This goes double for alms
giving because you fear that you might be helping a drunkard buy more whiskey, for
example. All the above was on my mind yesterday when I did something-then GOD did
something- then, well, let me back up to the beginning of what I call my “getting rolled
by a wheelchair” story.
Last Tuesday I was eating a chocolate malt lunch in a warm restaurant when I
noticed a man in a wheelchair coming down the side street. He would often stop to rest
and it looked like he had a cardboard sign. I watched as he rolled up to the corner, and
parked facing traffic. It was a cold, windy day so my bowels of compassion growled as I
watched him out there.
I took a bill out of my billfold and slid it into a pocket. [Advice from the police:
don’t open your purse or wallet in front of panhandlers. If they attack you or threaten
you-throw the money one way and you run the other way.] I went to talk to him instead
of going to my warm truck. I wanted to get close enough to him to smell his breath.
Then I noticed where he had come from- a pain clinic.
He did not have a sign. It was an x-ray of his spine from his primary care doctor.
My heart went out to him and the denomination of the bill in my pocket burned, burned,
burned. His story was that he was waiting on transportation after being laughed at and
ridiculed by a woman doctor at the clinic. She refused to take him as a patient and said
that he should not even need a wheelchair.
The man in the wheelchair was speaking in a normal voice and was not whining.
Then he paused and looked at me. “Are you homeless?” He took off his gloves and
handed them to me. “You don’t have any gloves, here take these.”
I refused his offer and was speechless. I mumbled something about praying for his
spine to be healed so the pain would be gone. Then after I got back in my warm truck
and drove away, I thought about the wheelchair man out in the cold and the bill in my
pocket that was burning, and burning, and burning.
The next day I got a haircut and promised my self not to look so scruffy in 2012. I
am still undecided: Do you offer an angel a tip after he serves you?
To be continued.