Take No Prisoners

It's odd to me the memories that have returned to me over the last couple of years, memories of times and events that I thought I had long forgotten or filed away forever. I wonder sometimes why it seems that my brain has shifted into overdrive in the memory department. Now that I think about it, I wonder if my increased brain activity has anything to do with diabetes ... kind of like when the nerves in my feet "woke up" after years of being in a sugar coma ... I wonder if my brain is more capable of remembering things from the past because it's been waking up as well. I have no idea if there's any medical or scientific evidence to support my wonderment, but you have to admit that it's an interesting theory.

Those of you who've been reading along with me for a while know that I grew up in the deep South and was raised in the Southern Baptist Church. I spent most of my youth attending a very small church and then a very large church during my college and young adult years. I have tons and tons of memories from both of those churches, some of them involve Mom and Dad, some involve friends or people I went to church with, and some involve events or special services that took place at one or the other of the two churches. Some of the memories are just plain funny, and some are poignant or sad.

I remember like it was yesterday a workday at the small church when my Dad handed me the keys to his old green pickup truck and asked me to go home and get the roast Mom had prepared for the men for lunch. As I lifted the large pot containing the roast over the back rails to transport it to the church, it slipped from my hands and the meat fell out and slid under the Snapper Comet riding lawn mower that sat in the middle of the bed of the truck. My friend Cindy had ridden along with me, and we both watched in horror as the food slowly emerged on the other side of the mower covered with grass and dirt. Knowing that Mom's roast was lunch for the hardworking men who were waiting for us to return, we quickly decided to scoop up the meat, rinse it off with the hose, place it back in the pot and race back to the church. I'm sure our eyes were as big as saucers as the men gobbled down the meat ... they never knew where that roast had been, and it was years before I ever fessed up about what we had done. Oh my goodness ... what in the world were we thinking?

Today I received an email that brought another church memory crashing into my mind ... the memory of a missionary who came to speak at the large church, a missionary who had spent many, many years in prison because he wouldn't stop preaching about the saving grace of Jesus Christ. I vividly recall how frightened I was as the man described how he was tortured and beaten during his time as a prisoner, and I remember thinking that I hoped God never asked me to become a missionary. As I drove home tonight, tears filled my eyes as I thought ... even way back then, Lord, I didn't want to suffer for my faith ... I didn't want You to call me to be brave or courageous ... I didn't want You to ask me to hurt or endure pain or go to prison ... even way back then, Lord, I wanted to have an easy faith, a faith that didn't demand too much sacrifice, too much boldness, too ... much ... faith. Even way back then, Lord ... even way back then.

Pulling into my garage, I rubbed my eyes as I thought about the words from the email ... "Love doesn’t take prisoners and imprison hostages." I went to my basement and found the old, yellowed book written by the missionary. The tears returned as I read his words written so many, many years ago ... "I curled up in the corner on the cold, hard floor and looked at the bars that imprisoned me. Father God spoke to me and said, 'You are free in me, my son, My love takes no prisoners and imprisons no man. Love those who harm you; pray for those who despise you; your redemption rests in Me; my love takes no prisoners.'"  

True love ... the love of God and the love we are commanded to have for one another ... that love takes no prisoners and imprisons no man, friends.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7