probably rushing in at the last moment, and we’ll look at them. We both know they have to do this before they roll the cots out for the night, Plug in, sound check, ready to go.
It’s amazing how young some of them are. What could you have possibly done to get cut loose so quickly? The old guys will be there too, a trail of lost people and jobs and homes behind them. Wine in the morning Jesus at night before bed. While there’s breath there’s hope, even if the breath smells like Night Train.
Our little band is part of the parade too. The preachers, the singers, the good, the bad, the ugly, the fervent, the shouters, and the people who pretend we know what its like to have to listen to us. Every Wednesday, just before bed, we descend on the Gospel Mission to have our say. Treasures in clay vessels all of us with a captive audience that just wants to go to bed.
Yet no matter how badly we do it, or how well, it still is true, even if we look stupid up there. Jesus saves. Whether we have a home tonight or not. Whether we’ve bounced along the surface of life or sunk through the waters. Regardless of which side of the pulpit we stand. Jesus saves.
We know going in that we’ll mostly be ignored. We understand and we’ll try not to stink the place up too bad before the folks go to bed. Yet as we play and our lead singer says a few words understand that we, I suppose, have better things to do as well except for the fact that we know one thing. Jesus saves.Even if you’re the skinny guy with the pink hair or the man who hasn’t much time yet before the liver just plain quits or the guy up on stage with the bass who somehow got out of it all before the worst could happen.
Jesus saves, and if just one figures that out tonight, or even starts to figure it out, we’ll play until our fingers bleed. It, and they, are worth it.
The Beautiful Path 