On Saturday afternoon we pulled out of John's parking lot and headed west on Kingston Pike. As we passed by the farthest west lot of Calvary Church property, we noticed a nice large pickup truck parked directly backwards deep enough into the woods that you could only see the windshield and hood of the truck. I insisted that we turn around and make sure everything was okay ["since we're nurses... it's our duty!"] and because I was driving, it didn't take much convincing John. We pulled into the parking lot to see a man still in his truck talking on his cell phone. John said "he's fine, he's on his phone!" I said, "he didn't get that way in those trees on purpose surely... go check on him." John said, "he's on his phone! he's fine!" I said, "he's on his phone and his truck is in the woods backwards on the busiest highway in Knoxville! go check on him!" Finally, I prevailed and John got out to see what was going on. As he headed toward the truck, another car pulled in beside us to see what was going on. The driver of the truck exited the vehicle and stumbled onto the driveway... an older man probably in his late 50s or early 60s, gray hair and a red face, round and plump with a too-short-shirt that revealed his stomach and too-low-pants that revealed his butt crack. He was a sight, and immediately kept insisting he was fine that we should leave. Of course, we didn't.
The lady who had pulled in to check on everything began insisting to me and John that something wasn't right and we encouraged her to call the police, so she did. She not only called once, but probably a total of 4 times because each minute she stood there waiting she became more and more convinced that they were not coming and that this man needed to go to jail for something! I was just chilling out in the car this whole time, smiling at the man trying to keep everyone calm. Then his wife pulls up, crying and carrying on, and then some friends who think they are going to tow him out. And then suddenly the strange lady who had called the police starts to panic. She rushes toward me and John and in a low whisper she rasps "When the police get here any minute this man is going to be irate and he is going to know that we called them! What if he has a gun in that truck and he starts shooting!? We should leave right now! He's probably going to shoot us!"
I just looked at John and waited to see what he thought [after all, he's the man... I was going to do whatever he thought was best]. John smiled a little sheepishly, as usual, and politely explained that he thought once the police got there we would actually be safer than we were without them there, and that everything would be fine but she could leave if she felt like she needed to, and that we were going to stay. She sort of rolled her eyes, looking a bit amused and a lot scared, and mumbled toward me "Oh honey... does he have martyr blood in him?" At first I just gave a little giggle and shrugged, but as I let her question sink in, I was reminded of Philippians 1:21 which says "To live is Christ, to die is GAIN." I thought about how whole-heartedly John and I both embrace and cling to this verse, and have vowed to make it the essence of who we are and the defining factor in how we live. And then I smiled at her and said "I reckon we both do, ma'am." She rolled her eyes all the more and began to sweat from fear. I was so tangibly reminded that death is the worst enemy of so many people, and that she and many many others had such bigger things to fear. We shared the Gospel with them a bit and talked about what the Bible says, but she and the gentlman she was with were so preoccupied with the situation they could barely function. Then the wife of the truck driver lit up a cigarette and it pushed these Good Samaritans over the top.. as soon as the police pulled up and took their name and number, they were outta there.
We hung around a bit longer to make sure we weren't needed for anything. The man failed the sobriety test and was arrested. The wife cried and the friends left, and the meeting was adjourned. And we continued with our night, and the question she asked... "does he have martyr blood in him?"... has resonated in my mind every day since then. So now, I ask you. Do you have martyr blood in you? Is the Gospel worth dying for, if thats what it takes? Something to think about, for sure.
And also, I completed #39 of my "101 in 1001" List which says: Take a homeless person to lunch. Sunday when we were having milkshakes at Cookout, we met Clarence. We bought him lunch and sat with him while we ate, talked to him about Jesus, and prayed over him before we left. Please remember him in your prayers... he's trying to get to Orlando and he needs the Lord. He was a very sweet man.
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