A finger pointed at me and a voice yelled, “You didn’t bring me my Bible!”
As I was leaving the nursing home, a motorized wheelchair spun around in front of me, blocking the exit. Thinking the man had lost control of it, I stepped around him, but he popped a wheelie and ended up in front of me again.
“You didn’t bring me the Bible you promised almost two months ago!”
“I”m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else. What’s your name?”
“Jerry. Now, where’s my Bible?”
“I’ll gladly get you a Bible, Jerry” and extended my hand. “I’m Leon.”
I purchased a Bible, had his name engraved on it and took it to him. He was in bed, his head covered with a blanket. “Jerry, I’ve got your Bible.” He threw back the covers, grabbed it, and clutched it, “My own Bible.”
“Jerry, why did you want a Bible?”
“I like the stories in it?”
“Well, then you’re a Christian?”
“Oh, no. I just like the stories.”
The next two weeks, we read and discussed the flood (his favorite) and Jonah. The third week we studied John 3. The fourth week, I asked him if he wanted to personally know the Author of all his beloved stories?
“Yes, I want to know ’im just like you do.”
“Whoever,” and that means you, Jerry, “believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” He grasped my hand and he prayed simply that Jesus would forgive his sins.
“So now I’m a Christian!”
“Yes, you’re born again.” From then on Jerry started introducing me as ‘his Reverend.’
Three weeks later, the Lord took him home from stomach complications.
Now Jerry is sitting at the feet of Jesus, hearing more stories he loves from the Author, the greatest Story Teller of all times.
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