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Breakfast with JesusFriday, April 20, 2001
John 21:1-14 Actually, they were sleeping. Kids can sleep anywhere. The hard ground was a whole lot harder for me than for them. I was over 40 and spoiled by too many soft beds. I could hear the couple who led the group every week grousing in the next tent. A clap of thunder interrupted their complaining. Within a very few minutes the skies opened. The lake we were camping beside seemed to rise up and meet us. This was too much for the boys with the beer; they threw their tent in the car and took off. Hallelujah! Let the floods come! We weren't in watertight Eureka tents, though, and pretty soon the ground was soaked and our tent floor was too. The canvas rooftop sagged full of water, and when I pushed on it and the water fell, it quickly found its way inside along the not-so-level ground. By now the kids were waking up. Wet sleeping bags, scary thunder, no room to move. "Let's pray," guys! I shouted. So we said the Lord's Prayer. The rain poured down. We sat up on our wet sleeping bags, eyes closed, sleep came and went, the night wore on. In the early morning hours the rain slowed and stopped. The silence was wet and sweet. Why is this such a great memory for all of us? So many other camping trips with crisp clear air, sunsets to knock your eyes out, the romantic sound of a thousand birds singing at sunrise, gentle lake lapping at the shore ... they don't stick at all in my memory like the Night of the Living Flood. It had to be breakfast. Tasting so so good after the miserable night. Adults and kids equally exhausted, ready for anything normal. Jesus woke us up to the smell of fish (bacon?) on the fire, we knew we were still alive, and our new day began.
I sought the Lord, and he answered me; |