Are You Driving Through It?


Butch looked at me with a sheepish grin. "I know it's not what God wants, but..." He shrugged as if that was the end of it. "...I know He'll forgive me. I mean, none of us is perfect, right?"


With that, he classified his ongoing sexual immorality as an "aw shucks" mistake and prepared to continue it.



Are you guilty of something similar?

Maybe this story will help clarify it.
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There was once a man who had a son. His wife died and he set about raising this beloved child with all the tender care of two parents.

He worked all day and then rushed home to cook supper and spend the evening helping with homework, tossing a frisbee, or just taking long walks to talk about life.


As the boy approached his eighth birthday, he set his heart on a new bike for Christmas. The father knew he could scarcely afford it, but found another job and worked extra hours to pay for it.

The shriek of delight from his son on Christmas morning more than made up for the long hours he had worked.


Together they took the bike out into the frosty morning and within a few minutes, the boy was peddling proudly around the block.


"Watch out for cars!" the father called and laughed as he watched his delighted son peddle furiously out of sight.


He had just pulled the Christmas turkey from the oven when he heard sirens shriek past his house. As any caring parent does, he froze. Was his son all right?


He dropped the dish towel and raced to the front door. An ambulance raced past, lights flashing. Behind it, a fire truck.

Something knotted in the father's stomach and before he knew what he was doing, he raced from the house.

His feet pounded against the frozen sidewalk and his breath came in white puffs.
"Please, God...don't let it be..."

At the end of the street, a crowd had gathered. Red and white lights strobed the neighborhood. Medics were loading a stretcher into an ambulance. Before he could get there, the doors closed and the sirens screamed as the vehicle raced away.


His feet pounded on, his eyes trained on a grueling sight near the curb. The onlookers had started back to their homes when he glimpsed what he dreaded to see. His heart lurched and his breath made a cloud around his face.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them again, there was no mistake. On the pavement lay the twisted remains of his son's new bike. A pool of blood spread dark tentacles across the street.

"No!" his cry echoed down the now-silent street.
"Son!"

Pitying eyes met his and then turned away.

A hand touched his shoulder and he whirled to face a uniformed police officer. "I'm sorry, sir. Was that your son?"


"Was?"

"They say he swerved to miss that pup over there and..." The hand patted and then dropped.

The rest of the morning was a blur as he paid the obligatory visit to the morgue to identify the body. A body. That's all it was. The life was gone. The light was gone. The sun would never shine again.

Cold rain had started by the time he made it home. He sat in the drive and stared at what had once been a cozy house. It was now a vacant warehouse, dark and uninviting. How could he go in there? The warmth was gone. It wasn't home anymore without the boy.

He got out and walked coatless, blinking against the stinging rain until he stood at the scene again. There it was. The blood. So much blood. His son's life blood, spilled on the street like refuse.

A car rounded the corner and rolled right through it, leaving a red tire path halfway down the street.

He whirled to watch it leave, stunned as another car followed. Careless. Unknowing.


His breath caught and the tears froze on his cheeks. He staggered into the street and waved his arms at the receding taillights.
"Don't! Don't drive through my son's blood!" he cried. "Don't drive through my son's blood!"

Anger surged through him as another car rounded the corner. He leaped in front of it, shouting like a madman. "No! Stop! Don't drive through my son's blood!"


The car swerved and a voice shouted, "Idiot! Get out of the way!"


The father stumbled into the red pool and lay down. "My son, my son! I won't let them drive through your blood."
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Are you driving through His Son's blood?

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