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BSHDFC E-Mag November 2018 | Page 3 Marty Edwards; adapted from "Come Share The Being" –Bob Benson Do you remember when the churches used to have those old fashioned Sunday school picnics? It was a hot summer in a small Texas town where potlucks and picnics were about the only thing church people did on a Sunday a ernoon. A young biker was giving a small local church a try one weekend, at the urging of his Chris an grandmother's constant hounding and faithful prayers. On the pla orm, the pastor said, "Let's meet at Sycamore Lodge in Shelby Park at 1:00 o'clock – right a er church. You bring your suppers and the church will furnish the sweet tea. We'll have a three-legged race, throw the Frisbee around and maybe even play a li le co-ed so ball." The biker thought it sounded pre y corny …but he had nothing else be er to do. So he went. When he came home, all he could find in the refrigerator was one dried up piece of baloney, two pieces of stale bread in the freezer and just enough mustard in the bo om of the jar so that when he went in a er it with a bu er knife he got the ingredients all over his rough knuckles! Nevertheless, he tossed his pathe c lunch into a wrinkled brown paper bag and roared off for the picnic. When it came me to eat, he down sat at the end of an old wooden picnic bench and spread out his sad crea on. He started to eat but stopped when he heard someone praying for the food. He was a li le embarrassed when he raised his head, but no ced that the folks next to him had started laying out the food they had brought. Evidently, this woman was an amazing cook! She had worked all day before and had crispy fried chicken, baked beans, potato salad, homemade rolls, sliced tomatoes, li le sweet pickles and olives (the kind that kids put on the ps of their fingers!). Just when he thought she couldn't bring out any more, the woman produced two great big homemade chocolate pies covered in whipped cream! So, there he was, staring at his dry baloney sandwich, in the presence of an amazing banquet. No cing his limited circumstances, the woman said, "Why don't we put it all together?" "No! No! I couldn't do that!" the biker said, but the woman persisted, "Oh, come on, there's plenty of chicken and plenty of pie, and plenty of everything…..and (with a smile) we just love baloney sandwiches!" And so he agreed and he ate un l he thought he would explode! The thought that came to his head was, "I ate like a king having come like a pauper." His grandmother had been praying for the young biker for years. Many mes she had urged him to find a church, but he had always resisted with excuses. That day, however, he found the church music strangely comfor ng and the long sermon somewhat tolerable. He was sure the picnic thing would be corny but instead found something he had never found on the road – complete love, mercy and acceptance. Nobody judged him for his long greasy hair, ta oos and pierced ears. Nobody ques oned his faded blue jeans and leather vest. Instead, they just enfolded him into their "family." On that day, he became a son again; and a brother and a friend. It was only a ma er of me before he would surrender his whole life to Jesus Christ. God doesn't need our baloney sandwiches, but we sure need His fried chicken. He takes us just the way we are and with whatever we have to bring. He turns our poverty into a feast! "Come now, and let us reason together," says the Lord, "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool. If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land; but if you refuse and rebel, you shall be devoured by the sword" (Isaiah 1:18-20) The Young Biker and The ChurCh PiCniC Click here to see more: www.WheelsofGrace.com FOR THE RIDER WITH TRADITIONAL AMERICAN VALUES MAGAZINE Published & Printed in the USA