As he cursed up a storm and lit his next cigar, he says to me, “I’m not like those other Christians. I actually get it.”
Suddenly I’m nervous. I didn’t get what he was getting. He must be talking about me: I’m one of those stupid Christians who is missing it and doing it wrong. How did I not get it all this time? This cigar-smoking man had the truth. Thank God! Tell me more.
The man went on about megachurches, how doctrine is not that important, how most sermons suck, how pastors don’t have a clue, how he wanted to teach churches how to be a good church.
I wanted to take notes, but then I thought he would say, “Only those stupid Christians do that.” I started playing with a napkin. He noticed, so I stopped.
He continued. I looked up for a second and this huge cloud had opened up. Right then, I thought of Jesus listening in on us — and I became pretty sad about the whole thing. Like you know, Jesus went through that cloud and became one of us and died for us, and all we could really say was, “I’m not like this other guy.”
I told the cigar-smoking man I had to go home. I felt sick. Some from the cigar, but mostly because of my heart.
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