IT WAS A TYPICAL Monday in November as I recall. The details are a blur because it was an ordinary day in my busy life as a single woman—again—only this time with a six-year-old son and a new boyfriend.
Life was good in 1990, at least good enough and a lot better than I ever imagined it would be for a girl off a farm who dropped out of college. I had more money in the bank than I could ever spend. And I had people. People worked for me in my business and at home.
Who said a single woman couldn’t have it all? I was the most successful person in my family and my only hope was that they would find their stride so I could stop saving them from their own irresponsibility.
If I had known Jesus was going to stop by for a visit that evening, I would have been more prepared. That is if I would have believed Jesus made house calls. Which I would not have believed without smelling the breath of the person who might warn me about the encounter.
To make sure they weren’t drunk.
It’s laughable when I think back to that day because it would have been easier to prepare for a visit from the President of the United States than God.
How would you prepare if you knew Jesus was going to visit you on Monday night?
I imagine I would have called the caterer for some nice Mediterranean food and have the housekeeper and yardman busy all day. I would have had to purchase a Bible since I had long ago lost mine.
And I would place a check written to the church prominently on the coffee table next to it.
I’d also pick up a nice CD of gospel hymns and get a few Bible storybooks for my son. Oh, and I’d close the door to the liquor cabinet. It’s a Baptist thing.
I’d hide the boyfriend’s clothes at the back of the closet like I always did when my parents came over.
I certainly would not have worked that day and if I did, I would have dropped a few coins in the homeless person’s hat, the one that frequented the corner next to my building downtown.
And then I would have locked myself in my big corner office to work on everything I could imagine that Jesus had on his mind. Hopefully, he would be in a good mood and just want to give me the good ole “atta girl” for all I had achieved.
But if not, I’d prepare my defense. Isolate the objections and overcome them.
I was a good person, at least as good as anyone I knew, and much better than some I knew, and thankfully I had gotten back in the habit of going to church when I married my second husband ten years before. The husband I recently divorced. Thank goodness for that Bible story of the divorced woman at the well who lived with her latest man.
No one would consider me a church lady, but I was also only thirty-two years old and too busy to get involved with religious activities. Besides, I felt like an hour on Sunday morning was all that was required of a Christian who had not been called into the God business.
Thankfully I did not know Jesus had me on his mind that day, for I would have gone to a lot of trouble for nothing. With my best thinking and religiosity nonsense, I would have worried myself to death and tried everything in my power to avoid the meeting or at least postpone it.
For about ten more years.
And I would have missed the most precious defining moment of my life.
So, I’ll ask again. How would you prepare for Jesus if you knew he would visit on Monday night?
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones and all uncleanness.” –Jesus (Matthew 23:27)
As always, it is my intent and hope that my words may encourage you wherever you are in your journey.
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If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear.–Jesus (Mark 4:23)