The Road Trip
Dear Adventure Friend,
I received my life license to teach in elementary schools in Indiana before they came to carry me away.
Now the Lord gave me another challenge. “Get up and read about Zacchaeus.” Why couldn’t it have been Abraham? Everyone likes to claim Abraham as their father. All Zacchaeus did was climb a tree because he was short (Luke 19:2).
Do you think Zacchaeus almost fell out of the tree when Jesus called to him and said, “I’m going to your house today”? Could you believe it? God, coming to your house today!
He managed a safe landing. Immediately he remembered a few folks he had manipulated and how he got rich in the process. He gladly offered to repay four times the amount. (When the Lord shows up, it often jars the conscience.) Jesus liked his eager response and affirmed the confessor: “This day salvation is come to thy house” (Luke 19:9). Now I know why Jesus said to read about Zacchaeus and not Abraham. I had a few restoration trips to make.
Don, God, and I got into our plymouth and drove ten miles to Miss Dodd’s home. She was my English professor and as godly as anyone I knew. She came early and prayed for every student by name before they came to class. No wonder I wanted Don to drive slower until I got control of my shakes (before they turned to stuttering).
She received us with open arms. I got right to the point: “I want to make an apology. I cheated on a test from the girl seated beside me, and I’m sorry.”
I never saw a flicker of shock or judgmentalism; only hugs and forgiveness. She still loved me!
Out the door we went, and a few blocks later stopped at my dormitory. I had told the Matron, Miss Walters, that I had come in by curfew. I had not. She, likewise, forgave me and gave me rite of passage to forgive myself (which is often a bigger problem than extending forgiveness to another person). I love these mature Christians who do not leave a young person in tatters.
Did God go back all the years of my life? Just a few.
I was a high school senior in Mr. Withenbury’s chemistry class. I hate chemistry. It has nothing to do with music. The captain of the football team was my boyfriend and loved chemistry. You already guessed; he set up some of my experiments.
Mr. Withenbury was so old that he might have forgotten me. In fact, he couldn’t hear either. Jokes would fly around the class and he would not hear them. I never incriminated my helper in the letter, but Mr. Withenbury might have guessed. At a high school reunion, I told my old boyfriend about my letter, and that he was off the hook, too.
We can create problems when we empty our whole bucket of bolts on the table to relieve ourselves. There may be others whose lives should not be complicated. If so, thinking and talking it through with a trusted, mature friend may be the better choice.
I had one more letter to write. I took three dimes out of my dad’s pockets when I was eight or nine. Just like Zacchaeus, I was so happy that salvation had come to my house. I was looking to compensate much more than four fold. My father was tremendously touched when he received my letter.
Whew! I closed the door on past accounts. God already did that at the cross for me, but now I wouldn’t have to look the other way for anyone. It felt good.
Love you,
Ruth Ann