Electricity & Life

Yes. Electricity. 

Yes. Life.

Just before I began typing this, I plugged several items into the white power-strip on the floor to my left.

-       My toothbrush. It lasts a couple of weeks on a charge. It died just before spring break a couple of weeks ago. After two weeks of manual bushing, it is now blinking its happy green dot-light at me as it charges.

-       My cell phone. I looked at it last night as I went to bed and noticed that it had one bar of power left. It lasted all night and even as I plugged it in, it still had one bar of power. But after four or five days, it dies. What's the point of carrying around a dead cell phone? (I ask that of my dead phone often…)

-       My computer. At six ½ years old, it has a battery life of 20 minutes, so it is basically a desktop. I plug it in every morning.

-       The room phone. It remains a permanent resident of the power-strip neighborhood. I'm not really sure how long its little battery life is. It died 2 hrs into one conversation one time …

-       My desk lamp. It's blue and mounted on a blue clip. It has no battery life and solely depends on electricity. It remains a permanent neighbor of the room phone in the power-strip.

In John we are told that after awhile people following Jesus turned and followed him no longer. But not the twelve. Jesus asked them if they would turn away too. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life (6:68)."

While sweeping the tan barn the other night, those words really got stuck in my head. For some reason I began contemplating my life without Jesus. Without knowledge of God. Without the Holy Spirit. Without fellowship with Spirit-filled believers. At a barn where ministry is not the focus. At a barn where horses are your career, period. Without hope.

All this pondering brought sorrow to soul. As cliché as that sounds, I am serious. It made me sad.

The tan barn is pretty long, and it takes a while to sweep it well.

Questions perpetuated my contemplations. Everything that I live my life around would be gone. If I emptied my life of such things relating to my faith, my life would be different. What would replace those things? Would there be something to replace them with or would it remain empty? Where would I go? What would I do? How would I live my life? Who would I be? What would I feel? What would matter to me?

By the time I had swept a couple of nice little piles of sand, muck, dirt, and debris, I had no answers.

1 Peter 3: 15-16 says: "But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander."

Even though this passage is not exactly addressing my contemplations, it addresses the hope that I have.

After sweeping up the piles and dumping them along with the muck bucket junk into a wheelbarrow, I headed out into the darkness, to the manure pile. The stars twinkled above me and Kentucky breeze blew through my thin fleece chilling me as I dumped the wheelbarrow. The fact that I am here makes me happy, and there is no other place I'd rather be today.

Peter said, "You, Jesus, have the words of eternal life." Like my computer, cell phone, and other power items – there is no other energy source for them. They won't run on any other energy than electricity. I have hope in the future, and it keeps me going. I don't believe there is any other hope source for me to go to. And you know what, I'm ok with that!