I Want to Be One of These Guys

A dear friend sent this to me and suggested I needed to go to Scotland and join them.

I want to be one of these guys.

I think maybe the one in the middle with the very thinning hair line and a stain around his mouth like he forgot to wipe the soup away. Probably, it is from years of wiping the soup away with the back of his hand. Maybe they can just add me to their group of five. They might like the way I shake my twigs and thistles. They would practice with me then we would go to the pub for apparently soup. At about the minute and five second mark, you can hear my contribution.

Yeah, I want to be one of these guys.

Many of you are waking up, starting sprinklers, making coffee, changing the dog water, thinking about going to church, getting the kids ready, all of it. This being Sunday, what if we had a call to service like this, instead of church bells? What if, instead of tight shoes and collars, and church bells, we had this letting us know it was happening? What if instead of people saying ‘good morning parishioner,’ with formal accents people use to say ‘pish-posh’ these guys beat us to quarters?

I don’t know where you are in your stuff. But I believe in one God. I believe in what history said and He wrote a check for me to save me from, well, myself and my bad life choices and the infection I had received at birth. I believe, every morning, He is right next to my bed, resting His head on the edge in the form of an English Mastiff and the God of the Universe sees my eyes open and He smiles and simply said ‘finally! Boy you should see what I got for you today!’ On those days when I am fearful about the storm cooking—He does the same thing, and simply says ‘Today, well, it’s going to be a shit storm. But I am with you-every step. I have a Plan, and it’s perfect. It might not seem like it is perfect, but it is. I’m pretty sure you need no one else.’

Evil cannot handle goodness. It thinks it can and tries to convince us we are alone in the wilderness and the more fear it heaps on us, the less inclined we are to face the storm, the day, the event. It makes us look in to the mirror and judge ourselves in what we see, causing us to forget what family line we are now part of. Then, we remember—we are white as snow.

Yeah, I want to be one of these guys.

You know what I am going to tell you to do. Play it loud.

It’s the only way to listen to it.

Yeah, you can be one of these guys too.