Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Red Fire Truck at Plimper's Hardware

 
1 John 5:13, 14

I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know you have eternal life.  And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us.  And if we know that he hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests that we have asked of him.”

Can you remember a time as a small child when you wanted something, you even ask for it, but deep down you knew it was not going to happen, but then somehow it happened and you were so thrilled.  For me, it was that big red fire truck that I had seen at Plimper’s hardware, I was six and foolish enough to believe that somehow it could be mine.  I remember mother saying something like that’s a nice fire truck, but we do not have that kind of money, you need to look for something smaller and she meant something that cost a lot less.  I knew Christmas was only months away and for the Rice family that meant getting an apple or orange and a very small inexpensive gift.  Many times it was something that mother had made for us.  Did I pray for that red fire engine?   I’m sure I did, and yet Christmas came and went and the fire truck was still sitting on display at the store; my birthday also came and yet no fire engine, I was loosing hope, but each time we walked by Plimper’s hardware I would run to the window and see that marvelous red fire engine on display.  But death came to my dream, it was the lowest moment of life for a 6 ½ year old, we had looked into the window at Plimper’s and that spectacular red fire engine was no longer in the window, someone owned my dream, it was death to a vision.  I do not recall what happened at that moment, but I do know this I quit praying for that truck, it was out of the window, it was no longer there, all my hopes and prayers had been wasted.  Have you ever felt that way?

Christmas came with no real expectation, others on my street would get nice presents, but not us, this year would be just like last year.  And was I right, my sister got a dress mother had made and maybe some socks or shoes she needed for school, my brother got an orange in his stocking and some small items that made him happy, and all I had gotten was an orange in my stocking, the few gifts were opened, the little tree was sitting in the corner of the living room and Christmas was over.  I will never forget when my daddy came down the hall carrying a large box and said Bobby, it seems we overlooked this, it has your name on it, and he was smiling and as I looked at mother she also was smiling and so was my brother and sister, they knew what was in the box, it was the biggest box I had ever seen, and yes, inside was my marvelous red fire truck!  I found out later that mother and dad had been paying on that truck for over a year, back then we called that lay-away.  It had been bought and paid for by mother and dad, who give up something each month so that I could have my dream.  It had been like many of my prayers, on lay-away till God knew the time was right.

The gift of eternal life came to us at a price impossible to pay, God’s lay-away plan happened some 2000 years ago when Jesus paid for our sin.  It was a grace lay-away, and it requires you by faith to receive your gift of salvation.  It is explained in Ephesians 2:8&9, “For by grace you have been saved though faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”

As a child I never wanted God’s will, unless His will agreed with mine, or when it came to red fire engines.  I wonder, could that be our problem as Christians?  That we no longer believe His will for exceeds anything we could dream of.  The Holy Spirit addresses this problem in James 4, and it is a prayer stopper, and not only are we told why our prayers are not answered, we are given the answer to wanting the will of God over our will.  In fact, when verse 10 is lived out in our life, our desires will be not my will, but my Father’s will. 

From the Back Porch,

Bob Rice

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