It's Deja Vu all over again in the same building I ignored pleas to serve Jesus by selling chicken dinners ... primarily because I'm interested in helping girls call his name out loud and playing music on my guitar.
It strikes me as I'm dressed pretty much the same now as I was then.
Aside from a pull over shirt with a collar instead of a football jersey, it's jeans, no socks and shoes (only because Baptists require them).
Then it was called the Baptist Student Union but now it's Baptist Campus Ministries in a building that looks exactly the same except the bricks are painted red so it resembles the other edifices of Georgia Southern Universities higher education.
"You really serious about helping others find Jesus?" I ask as they much Church made pork bar-b-que, baked beans, green beans, Cole slaw, store bought rolls and the other things Jesus and the Apostles had the Last Supper.
"If you volunteer with us, I guarantee you'll be with them while they're knocking on the door."
I'm pretty pleased with the imagery.
You've seen the picture of Jesus knocking on the door of a heart waiting to be let in.
The kids loudly slurp sweet tea.
"I crawled in bed with this Lady the other day," I continue and the room grows deathly silent ... "and kiss her old wrinkled forehead and ask her what she wants?"
The old retired minister's head falls out of his hand but he jerks himself back in the same position believing that if he does it fast enough no one could noticed it ever happened.
"I'm ready," she whispers with a smile.
"Good, I told her, I'm glad."
"Her mouth breaks into a laugh as her eyes see things somewhere other than the dingy Hospital bed stuck in a corner of the Living Room that is her life."
Several students wipe their eyes with bar-b-que stained white napkins.
"If you want to help Jesus help them," I conclude, "I'll be hanging around after. Let me know."
The old retired minister gives a benediction and the students rush to class as I give thanks to the powers-that-be.
"It hasn't changed at all," I say out loud walking to my car to go visit patients.
Imagine my surprise the following day when I receive an email from Scott, a pre-med student who loves Jesus with everything in him, that reads, "I want to help Jesus help them."
