So we arrive home at dark:30 and start unloading bags from the grocery hauler. My wife comes in with the last load and informs me that the neighbor across the street has locked himself out of his house. So I do what any good neighbor/pastor would do – I go over and offer the services of my lock picking kit.
A pastor isn’t worth his salt if he doesn’t have a good lock picking kit . . . right?
15 fumbling minutes later we were in.
I once picked a lock with a paper clip and another doohickey. And I'm no James Bond. It struck me how much perceived security we get from things like locks. We feel safe; we think our stuff is safe, we feel comfortable and cozy surrounded by tangible stuff. What a façade.
I think it’s one reason people don’t consider eternity – they feel safe now and believe the feeling will last forever.
19"Don't hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or — worse! — stolen by burglars. 20 Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it's safe from moth and rust and burglars. 21 It's obvious, isn't it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being. (MSG)
(PS. Joel I wasn't laughing AT you. I was laughing WITH you)