ARE YOU A CHRISTIAN?

By Mark Reed

What would you say if someone walked up to you today and asked, “Are you a Christian?”  If you are like me, or like most of us out there who consider themselves to be Christians, you wouldn’t hesitate to answer in the affirmative, “Why yes, I am!”

I was eleven years old when I felt the Lord come into my heart and I accepted Him as my personal savior.  I was subsequently baptized and then went on about my life.  Over the next thirty-nine years, if anyone had asked me if I was a Christian, I would have immediately said, “Yes.”  I now know that I was just giving lip service to being a Christian.  Did I live a Christian life?  No.  Did I act in a way that Jesus would approve?  No.  Did I walk the walk and talk the talk?  No.  Did I obey the Ten Commandments?  Not really.  Was I a good guy?  I guess.  Was I living a life of sin?  Absolutely!  Did I realize it? If I did, I did a good job of brushing it under the carpet and went on about my merry way of living my life the way I decided it should be lived.  Yet I would still have answered, “Yes” to the question.

Was I a liar?  Was I lying to myself?  Was I lying to God?  From all outward appearances the answer would have to be yes to all three questions.

How does it happen that we finally recognize the errors of our ways and turn over a new leaf, or at least try to.  We can’t do it by ourselves.  Our sinful nature and Satan will make sure of that.  We can only do it if we truly admit that we are no longer in control of our life.  That we no longer take credit for the good and blame others for the bad.  We are now and forever more, sinners.  How do we overcome that immutable fact?  We turn our lives over to Christ.  We ask Him for forgiveness for our sins.  We accept Him now and forever as the only way to salvation.  And then we go out and live our lives in such a way that when asked the question, “Are you a Christian?” we can truly answer with a clear and loving heart, “Yes, I am a Christian.  Are you?”

So, you see, a major portion of the first fifty years of my life were a lie.  But I now see the truth and am able to answer that question in the affirmative with a clear and loving heart.  Can you?

Let me be very clear here. Am I perfect? No. Do I still sin? Yes. Will I continue to sin? Yes. Will being a Christian stop me from sinning? No. Why is that? We all have the sin nature that began with the original sin in the Garden of Eden. BUT, am I saved? A resounding YES! When I accepted Christ as an eleven year old. Not by any act or action of my own, other than accepting Christ as my personal savior. Is it as simple as that? Yes. God knew we could never do it on our own. That’s why he sent his son, Jesus Christ, to accept our sins as his own and be given up as a personal sacrifice for each of us who will accept that unbelievable gift.

            “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

                        John 3:16

            “And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.”

                        Romans 12:2

AM I STILL ALIVE?

By Mark Reed

Well, yeah…said the guy who: has jumped out of airplanes, gone hang gliding, rock climbed, swam with sharks and barracudas, stepped on a gator, bit by a Copperhead, killed a wild hog with a pistol, drove a car over 120 mph, dove off high places (cliffs and bridges) and survived to tell of it (except for a busted ear drum), was in the Army, ran into a burning building and had a burning wall fall on me, shot the rapids in a canoe and a raft, dated a majorette, snuck into a house to see a girl at night with her parents in the next room (probably the most dangerous thing I’ve done), escaped MP’s with few clothes on, survived running off the road in an auto at high speed, climbed numerous water towers, had a car run off the road into the back of my car as I filled the gas tank and had to jump on the trunk to keep from getting crushed, loaded dynamite at a rock quarry for a summer job, survived a fight with four guys with clubs, swung across a ravine on a vine, walked away from a bar in Bangkok after being surrounded by 20 men who wanted to hurt me, was shot at as a child while stealing strawberries in a farmers garden, barely missed by an accidental discharge of a rifle by someone else, slid 100 yards on ice doing 360’s in my dad’s ’59 pink Caddy, fell out of the top of a tree, caught in a rip tide, butted by a large billy goat, passed a dozen kidney stones, had to use S.O.S to be rescued, spent days sleeping on the ground after the earthquake in Haiti, threatened by men with guns, eaten too many questionable foods to list, been in an aircraft whose engines stopped, mission trips in dangerous places, missed a head on collision in an automobile by inches, stood up to bullies much bigger and stronger than me, walked through the jungle at night unarmed, thrown by a horse, had pneumonia with a 106 degree temp for days as a baby, crashed and burned on skis in Colorado more than once with broken bones and total AC separations the result, taught my sons how to drive…Good Grief…am I still alive?

SAVAGE

By Mark Reed

Back in the day, probably sometime in the late 70’s, Michelle and I traveled to the Bahamas, the first of a number of times. I remember our first trip. It was to Nassau. We stayed at a huge monstrosity of a hotel, which neither of us can remember the name of. We think it was painted pink. Gorgeous, actually. We experienced Nassau fully. We did shopping, sight seeing on bicycles, sunned on the beach, swam, ate wonderful seafood and had conch chowder for the first time. And of course we imbibed in alcoholic beverages. I was a big beer drinker back in those days, and I fell in love with the local beer, consuming many to replace my sweat loss.

One afternoon, after sitting around the pool partaking of adult beverages, we took a walk down the beach. We came upon a small beachfront bar, which appeared to be a favorite of the locals. Obviously we went in and took stools at the bar. The bartender, a huge fellow, black as night, came up and in a beautiful English accent said, “What may I get you, sir?” I said, “How about a Savage.” He did not blink. He stood there silently gazing into my eyes. It was probably only a few seconds, but you know how it is when there is an awkward pause in a conversation. He then leaned forward, his face level with mine, not smiling, and said in that beautiful English accent, “You must want Courage.” And then it hit me. The local beer was called Courage, and I had inadvertently, and totally unintended, substituted the word Savage.

I swear it was not a racial thing. I would never do such a thing. Besides, this guy had 100 pounds and about a foot in height on me. He was staring at me and saw when it finally occurred to me what I had done and how he could possibly be offended by what I said. I was mortified…and slightly concerned he might reach over with one of his huge hands and pinch my head off. That could have put a damper on our holiday.

How do you recover from a faux pas such as this? I smiled at him sheepishly and said, “I must need Courage. Two please.” He then smiled at me, with a wink, and turned to grab us a couple of bottles from the icy cooler behind him. I looked at Michelle, and she said, “Good to still have you around.”

When he brought us the two beers, he put down two Courage coasters upon which he placed our beers. He also slapped down a stack of Courage coasters, and said, in his beautiful English accent, “Keep these to remind you of this near death experience.” He smiled and went about his business with other customers.

Fast forward forty plus years, I found the stack of coasters unpacking a box from our move labeled “Mark’s Treasures.” Courage, indeed.