I studied in various schools for 16 years, but got my real education in the Navy, I was thrown together with people from all over the country and learned that even crazy people can get the job done when put under military discipline. During my enlistment I lived in a poor foreign country for a year and learned it doesn’t take much money to be happy.
Every so often a fellow sailor, always someone I didn’t know, would sidle up and ask if I knew the Lord. I’m a Catholic, was my answer. Your question is redundant and embarrassing. I didn’t say that. I just mumbled something that made him feel his mission was accomplished and he would sidle away.
Since I got out of the service decades ago no one has asked me about my knowledge of the Lord, until last Monday outside the Super One grocery store. As I walked toward my car I could see a woman loading bags into the back of her car while a tall skinny kid, her son I thought, talked to her. But when she was done, she drove off and he turned to me.
At first I thought he was going to ask for money. Instead he asked if he could tell me about Jesus. Let 'er rip, was my thought. First he asked what I knew about Jesus. Does this guy have all week? I wondered. He didn't realize my ability to blather on about subjects I really know little about.
It was a beautiful day and I figured I could spare this poor soul a few minutes. He didn't really want to talk about Jesus though. He read me a few lines from a book. "What do you think about that?" He asked. I said it sounded like one of the epistles of St Paul. He said it was from the Book of Mormon. He reread a line about believers receiving the power of God. What did that mean to me? he asked
He had lost me now. I was recollecting my trip to the San Antonio World's Fair in 1968 where I had first heard of Mormonism. There was a little theater there and my friend Jim Graham and I were invited in to watch a short video about the Church of the Latter Day Saints of Jesus Christ. I told the guy about this event. He asked what I thought about it. I said it was alien to me.
But this fellow was uninterested in a my ramblings. He asked if I'd like to join his group to discuss the Book of Mormon. I declined. I told him I was already in a group in my church. He asked what church and what time. I almost expected him to show up. He would have been welcome.
I thanked him for giving me a chance to make up for remaining silent those many years ago when I was put on the spot by itinerant preachers. Now Jesus would have to acknowledge me up yonder because I had acknowledged him. I asked my new acquaintance's first name as we parted. "Dominic," he said. Ah, a good Catholic name. But I kept quiet about that.
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| Heading to the Great Salt Lake on the Mormon Trail |
You're amazing ... if you don't know why anyone, at least around here, would question if you know the Lord, for you all but ooze your love of Christ with every breath you take and every deed you do. Other than T, I know of few that approach your demonstrated affection toward your fellow homo-sapiens on a daily basis. This person was just ignorant of that fact -- and, your ability to blather on about subjects you do know so thoroughly as the Bible and all that it entails. Good thing he didn't ask you what you knew about English history or English literature ... you would've invited him to The Shedeau for a pizza.
ReplyDeleteIt was a revelation for me, too, to grapple with the difference between my Catholic faith and knowing the Lord. Redundant and embarrassing are helpful terms for me to reflect on. Dominic is, indeed, a decidedly Catholic name. And I agree with everything WW says above.
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