08 June 2010

... and this is why we go.

Saturday morning i looked at the poinsettia i have kept alive for five years and noticed the soil was dry. Giving the plant a much needed drink, a thought ran across my mind. This is why we go. Countless people bombard me with the same question upon my return - how many lives did you save? Posing such an inquiry would lead one to believe there is a score card somewhere in Heaven. Serendipitous event of a dry plant gave me the answer i have been rummage around for since i started traveling to Scotland. With a captivated audience eager for a response, i offered, "None, but we watered many."

i hold in my hand one of many rocks that became an involuntary contribution to my collection. Closer inspection of the treasure reveals crimson spots scattered about its surface and i cannot help but to envision this representation so boldly illustrated - the blood of King Jesus being spilled for these people. How many of these rocks litter the coast of Scotland as a reminder from the Saviour who loves them. No, it is more than a reminder. It is a desperate cry! A desperate, pleading cry from God who gave the ultimate gift and from His Son, who paid the ultimate price. All we have to do is pick it up and accept the gift.

Walking along the beach at Saint Andrews, a battle waged between the footprints i was leaving behind in the sand and the rushing tide. Eventually, the tide won and washed away all remembrances of where my size ten shoe had made its mark. i would go back and reinsert the print, but the outcome was always the same if i did not keep a constant vigil. Margaret Thatcher said, "You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it."

As i put away my passport until another trip on Take-A-Chance airlines, i am forced to ponder how long will our footprints last on the people of Scotland if the sentry’s diligence is wavering?

Eric Mills

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