Photos on the journey #434


I was hurriedly walking through a mall parking lot and it almost eluded my field of vision. A bumper sticker that spoke with such wisdom and a simple home style logic that it flooded me with memories of my dad. Bumper stickers are much like an appealing well-written headline, a concise summation of an otherwise complicated issue. I was raised to love bumper stickers. My dad was a great aficionado of the sticky reflections of a cause.

I never recall ever once seeing a bumper sticker on any of our Chevy sedans. Dad liked to attached them throughout the house. On bulletin  boards, the glass of picture frame or a window, on the back of a lawn chair, work benches and lawn mowers and workshop doors. I think it was his way of letting us know where and how he stood on political, social and totally nonsensical platforms. It was a way for him to quietly voice his opinion, but not have to  say a word or share, or defend.

Anyhow, the aforementioned bumper sticker simply stated in old English style white type on a glossy black field: “God, please protect me from your followers“.

It drew me back to this small nineteenth century mission we had come across on a small ranch road in West Texas. Some how, I felt assured that no one had buggy stickers that wanted protection from these followers. So it begs the question, why do these simple words ring so true?

Why do I feel the want to not go to the door when on a glorious sunny day the third group of suits, boys on bicycles, or men in ill fitting cowboy hats, or the ones that have their children along to actually deliver the sales pitch ring my porch bell giving me a brochure with an image of this worlds greatest warrior a glow with styled hair, neatly trimmed beard and a white robe, Asking me if I know this man, I want to scream NO, the Jesus I know was never this clean, he was engaged in a battle.

God, protect me from your followers!

Pezful EZ feeling @U ††† en theos jlawrence

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