MarkSpruill

I took our big new truck through a narrow place today.  It was a little scary but I made it through just fine.   I went very slowly, folded in the mirror, and proceeded with caution.  I had to watch closely and be very careful so as to avoid damage.  That’s the way it is when you are taking precious cargo through a narrow place.  You be careful, watch where you are going, and keep moving in the right direction.  Wide places are for the reckless.

Enter through the narrow gate.   For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.
   Matthew 7:13-14

The trash man comes by our house every Monday morning.  Since he comes so early, we usually put the trash out on Sunday night.  The can waits by the curb for an early Monday morning encounter with the trash truck.  At about ten minutes after seven o’clock, the truck comes by and all our garbage is neatly taken away.  That’s the way it works.  Or at least, that is the way it is supposed to work.

Our trouble, at times, is getting the trash TO the curb.  The trash collector has not yet set one foot in the door to empty the kitchen waste can.  The trash in our bedroom has never been sucked to the curb by some mysterious whirlwind.  We have to take it out.  And sometimes, it doesn’t happen.   I pay for trash collection.  The guy comes by every Monday.  But on some Mondays, he just drives right on by our house because we didn’t make the effort to get the trash to the curb.

I am finding that getting the trash to the curb is the hard part.

I would like to share something I read this week.  It’s from George MacDonald’s book, “The Hope of the Gospel.”  The language and style might be a little archaic, but the message is wonderful.  He is quoting what a true child of God might say about Jesus and the Gospel . . .

'But to believe in such a man,' he might go on to say, 'with such a
message, as I read of in the New Testament, is life from the dead. I
have yielded myself, to live no more in the idea of self, but with the
life of God. To him I commit the creature he has made, that he may live
in it, and work out its life--develop it according to the idea of it in
his own creating mind. I fall in with his ways for me. I believe in him.
I trust him. I try to obey him. I look to be rendered capable of and
receive a pure vision of his will, freedom from the prison-house of my
limitation, from the bondage of a finite existence. For the finite that
dwells in the infinite and in which the infinite dwells, is finite no
longer. Those who are thus children indeed, are little Gods, the divine
brood of the infinite Father. No mere promise of deliverance from the
consequences of sin, would be any gospel to me. Less than the liberty of
a holy heart, less than the freedom of the Lord himself, will never
satisfy one human soul. Father, set me free in the glory of thy will, so
that I will only as thou willest. Thy will be at once thy perfection and
mine. Thou alone art deliverance--absolute safety from every cause and
kind of trouble that ever existed, anywhere now exists, or ever can
exist in thy universe.'

If you want to read more, you can find a free copy of the book for your Kindle on Amazon, or you can download it in various formats from here: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14453

Our dog Charlie died.  It is a sad time at the Spruill house, but I knew it was coming.  He wouldn’t stay in the fence.  He wouldn’t stay on the run.  He escaped from most any collar.  If he pushed his way out the door, he would take off running, ignoring our calls and whistles.  He seemed to enjoy being defiant and running away.

We would call for him, but he wouldn’t come.  He would run all over the neighborhood.  On more than one occasion, we chased him through the neighbors’ yards, trying to get him to come home.  We would run after him and he would take off when he saw us coming.  He was about the least obedient dog I have ever owned.  And I knew that someday, it would get him killed.  Two nights ago, he escaped out of the house and ran off.  It was dark, so Tammy couldn’t see well enough to even attempt to find him.  Nor could the driver see soon enough to avoid him when he dashed across the highway.

Obedience would have saved his life.  Staying within the boundaries would have saved his life.  All the fences, chains, collars and schemes we worked to try to keep him safe certainly did prolong his life.   But in the end, he kept insisting on having it his way, and it caught up to him.  It always does.

God, if there are dogs in Heaven, let Charlie be there.  But just so I don’t meet him there too soon, please, keep the fences high, help me stay obedient, and don’t give up on me, no matter how dark it gets.