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The old man
On a park bench
Slumped and drew a heavy
Sigh. He said, “My days are
Numbered and I do not want to die.”
He saw displays of Christmas trees and couldn’t stop the tears.
For he was sick, alone, and old, lived eighty-seven years.
He hung his weary head and moaned, “This Christmas is my last.”
He sadly thought about his youth and traveled to his past.
It seemed like only yesterday that he was just a lad,
So full of pep and energy and could outrun his dad.
He thought of how he’d lived his life and how he’d tried to be
As good a man as anyone; he’d lived productively.
He’d never cheated on his wife of fifty-seven years.
He’d loved his children tenderly, had calmed their doubts and fears.
He’d been a well-known businessman, enjoyed a fine career.
And even though his job was tough, he made Man of the Year.
Since youth he’d always gone to church and often, Sunday school.
He’d even served with Meals on Wheels; he’d lived the golden rule.
Yet somehow he was not so sure his works were good enough.
He wished he’d given more away and not bought so much stuff.
He gazed above and begged, “Dear God, my name, please doesn’t ignore.
I wonder should I sell some things and give more to the poor?”
Then God looked down and gravely said, “I do not see your name.
I cannot find you in My Book of Life; it’s such a shame.”
As tears welled up and then spilled down he heard a distant voice
Sing ever so angelically a chorus of “Rejoice---
Rejoice not that you’ve fed the poor or mailed your checks abroad.
Your works are just as filthy rags to our most holy God.”
“Rejoice,” the song went on to sing, “there’s nothing you can do.
To earn your way to heaven’s gate you must be born anew.
Just as the newborn Savior came at Christmas long ago
You, too, must have a second birth; it’s this you need to know.”
“But how?” The old man asked through tears. “I can’t go back in time
And be a tiny embryo and born again,” he chimed.
Then as the choir filed out of church, an angel took his hand
And showed him from God’s holy Word so he could understand.
The angel read a simple verse that we are saved by grace.
It’s only by the blood of Christ that we see God’s pure face.
The old man prayed the sinner’s prayer; God came to his rescue.
As he took Jesus as his Lord, his life was born anew.
His skin still parched his face time-worn
His gnarly hands still rough.
But deep inside he soared with joy
For Jesus is
enough!
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