Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Always Dangerous

Tonight I found myself walking alone again for about a mile along the waterfront after 11 PM in the second most dangerous city in the country. That's not the first time; it's just the latest.

I've never tried walking alone on the waterfront late at night dressed in a suit and tie, complete with a starched shirt, shined shoes, minty breath and freshly combed hair.

So here's a couple of things worth passing along:

1. With my grimy jeans, 10 year old sneakers, sweaty baseball cap, 9 months without a haircut hair, torn shirt, grease-stained hands and unshaved face, it's me who 99% of people are worried about ... and I easily picked up on that

2. It doesn't make sense to try running away from the other 1%

Which made me of the Gospel and the Apostle Paul.

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Why do Believers act as though they've got to protect themselves and switch to a "Prevent Defense" late in the fourth quarter to keep the enemy from scoring? Why do folks who call themselves Christians become indignant when Satan throws pebbles at the Kingdom's fortress walls, and cower in the corner over every little thing in the world they happen to oppose?

Are they afraid of getting their suits and ties dirty?

Why aren't the believers who profess Jesus Christ as their Savior and King the ones who the world considers dangerous?

Why are Christians afraid of an enemy who has absolutely no chance of winning?

PS. When I got back to the marina I found a crated clothes dryer I'd ordered online delivered to the slip beside my boat. Turns out the marina had two muscular twenty-something guys and a propane-powered tug drive it to my boat, so how was I gonna lift that thing over my head and somehow get it on-board?

I could've waited till tomorrow and asked the marina for assistance, or I could've called my friends and asked for creative solutions, or I could've gone online and sent an address book-full of emails requesting leadership to provide me with guidance and direction ... and then crossed my fingers hoping to hear something back before my dryer magically vanished forever from the dock.

Instead I hauled my gimpy 53 year old body and half-lame knee on-board, said a prayer, got seriously dangerous and grabbed with both hands.

And now I've got an actual clothes dryer on-board my boat.