He leaned against a rock and sipped the scalding coffee. It tasted good, and he took his time with it, relishing each swallow.”
–Louis L’Amour (High Lonesome)
Pard, how many times have I done that? Leanin’ against a rock, or back propped up against a tree. Sometimes just sittin’ on the bank of a lake fishin’, or ’round the campfire–mornin’, noon, night, or anytime in between. How many cups have I shared with pards over the years in similar circumstances or just as we are now, sittin’ ’round the kitchen table. Good times, good fellowship, good coffee.
I often think of that Saturday after the crucifixion, the day of quietness, at least in the natural realm. Just think, Pard, those ol’ boys, and the ladies around them thought they were alone, that their world was a-endin’ when in fact it was really just beginnin’. Once, in the eyes of the world they were common people, but now, though they didn’t realize it yet, they were children of the King–royalty. If’n ol’ Peter would’ve known that then, whooeee, but the Lord knew they had to go through a time of mournin’, of drought, of missin’ His presence.
Let me be passin’ on a story I read this past week. Sorry, the source slips my feeble mind, but I want yuh to be thinkin’ on it. Go ‘head take a deep swaller, I’ll wait ’til I see it runnin’ down yur gullet. Here goes– There was a Navajo Indian in Arizona on whose land oil was discovered. He became a very wealthy man, but wealth did not change him. He went on livin’ just as he was before. The money piled up in the bank, but every now an’ then the old man would visit the bank and say to the banker, “Crops all dried up; sheep all dead; cattle all stolen.” The banker knew exactly what to do. He would take the old man into the vault, sit him at a table and place several bags of silver dollars in front of him for him to count. After a while the man would come out and say, “Crops fine; sheep all alive; cattle all back.”
Good coffee…oh, let me tell yuh the jist of the meanin’. See, if’n Peter had realized that Saturday, that dark, quiet, and fearful day, that he was buildin’ up an account in the heavenly bank, he wouldn’t have been so fretful. Pard, we can do the same. If’n yuh get down and out, yur lower lips sore from yur boots a-steppin’ on it, go count yur blessin’s in yur heavenly account. My, don’t yuh know we have resources that we haven’t even considered.
Yep, Pard, tomorrow is what is called Resurrection Sunday, so today, instead of mopin’ ’round, drink some coffee an’ start lookin’ at yur blessin’s. The Savior has done risen, there’s no need to be wonderin’ ’bout that. He’s alive, today an’ forevermore!
Now sayin’ that, don’t go out an’ be doin’ somethin’ stupid with the Lord’s blessin’ and for mercy-sake, check that cinch before mountin’ or yuh just might wind up sittin’ next to yur heavenly account.
Vaya con Dios.