Impossible!
With God, all things are possible. Or are they?
Hebrews 6:4-6 says, "It is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of [experienced] the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Spirit, and have experienced the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they fall away, to renew them again unto repentance..."
Impossible? Didn't Jesus say all things are possible with God (Matthew 19:26)? Indeed, he did, but let's examine this impossibility.
You live in an unusual community. Nobody eats at home; they have their meals at one of the two restaurants in town.
All your life you've eaten at Joe's Greasy Spoon. You sometimes wonder why, since the doors and windows are grimy with cooking grease and dust and cigarette smoke. Inside, the stink of marijuana combines with the din called music, while flashing lights bounce off a rotating disco ball. The patrons swill pints of ale, while the mini-skirted, buxom waitresses aren't shy about showing off their buxomness. The kitchen help is unkempt, and their aprons are smeared with ketchup and mustard and whatever else gets slopped on them.
Like your fellow rowdies, you tumble out of bed, then head to Joe's for breakfast, hoping some food will ease your throbbing head. The atmosphere holds you, and breakfast becomes lunch, and lunch morphs into supper, and finally, in the darkness of night you stagger your way home, knowing you'll repeat the process the next day.
Each morning, as you approach the diner, you see a well-dressed man standing nearby. He nods in greeting, and a slight smile brightens his otherwise sad face. Strange! He's still there when you leave late at night.
One night he speaks. "You know," he says, "you're better than this, and there's a better life for you. Come home with me. You can have a long shower, and have a good night's sleep between clean sheets. When you're ready we'll have breakfast at The Golden Roads restaurant."
In the morning, surprise! Your head is clear, your clothes have been laundered and pressed, and your new-found friend has a happy face and sunny smile. Soon you're at The Golden Roads. What a difference from Joe's Greasy Spoon. The windows sparkle, and you're amazed there are no doors. The way is always open to anyone who comes.
Inside the air is fresh, and music lands gently on your ears. There's light everywhere, but it doesn't flash and glare like the strobes at Joes.
The patrons are chatting and laughing, and enjoying breakfast served by neatly dressed waitresses who pick up their orders from an immaculate kitchen, where nary a spot nor stain mars the cleanliness of the cooks' aprons.
At first you have a sense of uneasiness. Everything is so different here. You wonder if you're worthy enough to enter such a sanctuary. But, as you survey the scene, you spot a couple fellows you knew from Joe's. "What are those cruds doing here," you wonder. Your escort, as though reading your thoughts, tells you every one of these people were as unworthy as you, but changed their lives around with the help of those who have been here before them.
You enter cautiously, and are quickly shown to a table. Your breakfast mates help ease your mind, and soon you realize this is where you belong. You don't even want to go home, and that's okay since The Golden Roads is open 24-7, and the price is right (Isaiah 55:1).
One morning, however, the attraction of dingy Joe's plays on your mind and, after a difficult struggle, you go there for an all-day breakfast. You know it's wrong, but soon you join in the merriment -- if it can be called that -- and return for a couple days to your old life. When you leave, your friend is waiting, and takes you to his home to clean you up again. Your face burns with embarrassment as you return to The Golden Roads, but you're cheerfully welcomed back without even a whisper of criticism.
A few months later you go through the same struggle, and end up at Joe's, and despite the wonderful atmosphere at The Golden Roads, you find yourself returning to Joe's more frequently, Eventually, your mind convinces you this is where you really want to be. All your drinking buddies, and the staff, help persuade you you're right. Finally your mind becomes so fixed on being at Joe's, that you can't even think of returning to The Golden Roads.
Has God shut you out of his restaurant? How could he? There's no doors. But your conscience has become so seared by satan (1 Timothy 4:1-2) that you have barred your own entry. You have joined those who have fallen away, and who now find it impossible to return to the good life at The Golden Roads.
Leslie A Turvey
With God, all things are possible. Or are they?
Hebrews 6:4-6 says, "It is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of [experienced] the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Spirit, and have experienced the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they fall away, to renew them again unto repentance..."
Impossible? Didn't Jesus say all things are possible with God (Matthew 19:26)? Indeed, he did, but let's examine this impossibility.
You live in an unusual community. Nobody eats at home; they have their meals at one of the two restaurants in town.
All your life you've eaten at Joe's Greasy Spoon. You sometimes wonder why, since the doors and windows are grimy with cooking grease and dust and cigarette smoke. Inside, the stink of marijuana combines with the din called music, while flashing lights bounce off a rotating disco ball. The patrons swill pints of ale, while the mini-skirted, buxom waitresses aren't shy about showing off their buxomness. The kitchen help is unkempt, and their aprons are smeared with ketchup and mustard and whatever else gets slopped on them.
Like your fellow rowdies, you tumble out of bed, then head to Joe's for breakfast, hoping some food will ease your throbbing head. The atmosphere holds you, and breakfast becomes lunch, and lunch morphs into supper, and finally, in the darkness of night you stagger your way home, knowing you'll repeat the process the next day.
Each morning, as you approach the diner, you see a well-dressed man standing nearby. He nods in greeting, and a slight smile brightens his otherwise sad face. Strange! He's still there when you leave late at night.
One night he speaks. "You know," he says, "you're better than this, and there's a better life for you. Come home with me. You can have a long shower, and have a good night's sleep between clean sheets. When you're ready we'll have breakfast at The Golden Roads restaurant."
In the morning, surprise! Your head is clear, your clothes have been laundered and pressed, and your new-found friend has a happy face and sunny smile. Soon you're at The Golden Roads. What a difference from Joe's Greasy Spoon. The windows sparkle, and you're amazed there are no doors. The way is always open to anyone who comes.
Inside the air is fresh, and music lands gently on your ears. There's light everywhere, but it doesn't flash and glare like the strobes at Joes.
The patrons are chatting and laughing, and enjoying breakfast served by neatly dressed waitresses who pick up their orders from an immaculate kitchen, where nary a spot nor stain mars the cleanliness of the cooks' aprons.
At first you have a sense of uneasiness. Everything is so different here. You wonder if you're worthy enough to enter such a sanctuary. But, as you survey the scene, you spot a couple fellows you knew from Joe's. "What are those cruds doing here," you wonder. Your escort, as though reading your thoughts, tells you every one of these people were as unworthy as you, but changed their lives around with the help of those who have been here before them.
You enter cautiously, and are quickly shown to a table. Your breakfast mates help ease your mind, and soon you realize this is where you belong. You don't even want to go home, and that's okay since The Golden Roads is open 24-7, and the price is right (Isaiah 55:1).
One morning, however, the attraction of dingy Joe's plays on your mind and, after a difficult struggle, you go there for an all-day breakfast. You know it's wrong, but soon you join in the merriment -- if it can be called that -- and return for a couple days to your old life. When you leave, your friend is waiting, and takes you to his home to clean you up again. Your face burns with embarrassment as you return to The Golden Roads, but you're cheerfully welcomed back without even a whisper of criticism.
A few months later you go through the same struggle, and end up at Joe's, and despite the wonderful atmosphere at The Golden Roads, you find yourself returning to Joe's more frequently, Eventually, your mind convinces you this is where you really want to be. All your drinking buddies, and the staff, help persuade you you're right. Finally your mind becomes so fixed on being at Joe's, that you can't even think of returning to The Golden Roads.
Has God shut you out of his restaurant? How could he? There's no doors. But your conscience has become so seared by satan (1 Timothy 4:1-2) that you have barred your own entry. You have joined those who have fallen away, and who now find it impossible to return to the good life at The Golden Roads.
Leslie A Turvey
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