{"id":92,"date":"2016-11-17T23:48:31","date_gmt":"2016-11-17T23:48:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/?p=92"},"modified":"2016-11-18T00:32:33","modified_gmt":"2016-11-18T00:32:33","slug":"the-time-i-prayed-not-to-wet-my-pants","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/?p=92","title":{"rendered":"The time I prayed not to wet my pants."},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"89723287293305d488c8854a1ac4b9fc\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Bible College was some of the best years of my life. So many new friends, so many new things to learn, and so many adventures.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Like the time my roommate and I decided it would be fun to shoot marbles at squirrels out our dorm room window\u2014using wrist rocket slingshots! The table we stood on suddenly broke sending us and our other roommates\u2019 fish tank crashing to the floor. We escaped through the broken glass, water and wiggling fish. Thirty years later I saw that roommate and apologized. He never knew it had been us that did it. We went to the park to hunt squirrels after that.<\/p>\n

I wanted to do well in college. I wanted to learn all I could and more importantly, be more like Jesus. But, I had to work a full-time job and go home on the weekends to teach a Junior High Sunday School class. So, it was certainly difficult. There was not a lot of free time for opportunity to do good.<\/p>\n

One night, coming back to the dorm after work, I prayed that God would use me. As I came to a red light I saw a car sticking out in the middle of the road in front of me. A man flagged me down for help. As soon as he got into my 1974 white mustang, I knew he had been drinking. I knew that odor well.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m outta gas.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cO.K., I\u2019ll take you to go get some.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGotta gas can at home. Take me there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d I said, thinking that I was going to help this man and do a good deed.<\/p>\n

I told him that I was a Bible college student. He was very friendly and talkative.<\/p>\n

\u201cI like the Bible,\u201d he slurred. \u201cTurn here.\u201d<\/p>\n

I thought that he would run right in, get the can, and we\u2019d be on our way.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome inside. My wife has to meet you.\u201d He patted me hard on the shoulder.<\/p>\n

When my dad was drunk, I always did what he said. Perhaps that is why I opened the car door and followed him into the house. It was about midnight by then.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want you to meet my friend,\u201d he told his wife as she got out of bed and put on her robe. \u201cWhat did you say your name was?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Jon. Have a seat in the kitchen, Jon,\u201d then to his wife, \u201cget us a beer!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust water for me. Thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n

Guzzling his beer, he sat across from me and talked. He told me of his time in Vietnam. \u201cAre you in the Army?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head, no.<\/p>\n

He leaned forward, put his finger to his nose and whispered, \u201cI\u2019ve done terrible things. Terrible things.\u201d Taking another long swig of the beer, he told me of the time his platoon entered a Vietnam village and killed every one. \u201cWomen and children too.\u201d He started to cry. \u201cI\u2019ve done terrible things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I said, wishing somehow I could leave.<\/p>\n

Then he said it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI blew a little boy\u2019s face off.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gulped.<\/p>\n

\u201cPut my boot on his chest, my gun under his chin and\u2026fired.\u201d He blubbered, wiping tears from his cheeks. \u201cI\u2019ve… done terrible things. Do you think God can forgive someone like me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

A long pause. I didn\u2019t know what to say. There are no good guys in war. I looked at his wife standing against the wall with her arms crossed. She shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan we get the gas can now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, Yeah, I\u2019ll get it,\u201d he said. He stumbled to the bedroom.<\/p>\n

Back in the back room he cursed. I heard things fall. Or were they thrown? He marched out of the room, fuming. \u201cYou\u2019ve been goin\u2019 out on me, ain\u2019tcha?\u201d He carried a shotgun. He pointed the gun my direction. \u201cWho are you? You been sleeping with my wife. I know it. Don\u2019t lie to me!\u201d Every other word was a curse word.<\/p>\n

Then, he moved forward and placed the end of the shotgun under my chin. Pictures ran through my mind of the little boy in Vietnam. Feeling the cold steel pressed against my throat and chin I prayed, \u201cGod don\u2019t let me wet my pants. Get me outta this!\u201d<\/p>\n

He swayed in front of me, squinted and snarled. He cocked the gun.<\/p>\n

His wife called out, \u201cDon\u2019t!\u201d<\/p>\n

I let out a breath and calmly said, \u201cI\u2019m your friend, Jon. Dontcha remember? You ran out of gas. I brought you home to get a gas can. I\u2019m here to help you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He blinked. Sniffed. Wiped his nose. Slowly he lowered the shotgun and turned toward the bedroom. \u201cDon\u2019t feel so good. I\u2019m going to bed. She\u2019ll get the gas.\u201d He barely staggered through the bed room door when he passed out crashing to the floor.<\/p>\n

A long pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get the can,\u201d his wife said.<\/p>\n

On the way to the gas station, she talked. \u201cYou\u2019re a Christian, right? Me too. But he won\u2019t let me go to church.\u201d She went on and on about her life. I felt very sorry for her. She seemed scared all the time. \u201cHe\u2019s o.k. when he\u2019s sober. Really. But that\u2019s rare.\u201d<\/p>\n

I emptied the gas into the tank and asked her if she would be o.k.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Pray for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked around, then grabbed her hand and said a prayer. She cried. Then smiled.<\/p>\n

That night, I was very late for curfew at the dorm. But no one stopped me. I walked first to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. At some point, I must have bit my lip. I smiled an awkward smile. \u201cThank-you God for dry pants.\u201d<\/p>\n

I have never picked up strangers ever again.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Bible College was some of the best years of my life. So many new friends, so many new things to learn, and so many adventures. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Like the time my roommate and I decided it would be fun to shoot marbles at squirrels out our dorm room window\u2014using wrist rocket slingshots! The table we […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/92"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=92"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/92\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":96,"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/92\/revisions\/96"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=92"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=92"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonhopkins.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=92"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}