Saturday, April 18, 2009

Our Rescue Mission

People have all sorts of callings: some are called to teach, some to preach, and some are called to the mission field. Our family has been called to run a rescue mission.

Imagine living a life of luxury, basking in the tropical sun with your family and friends without a care in the world when suddenly hard, cruel hands ripped you away from the life you once knew, never to see it again. You get tossed in the back of a truck with other victims of the same, dire fate. After what seems like an eternity in that cramped truck, you enter a sinister-looking building where you and your fellow victims are separated: those who are deemed unacceptable are put into a mass grave. You shudder as you approach the inspectors, hoping you will get to live another day, no matter what that day will bring. You sigh in relief as you get the stamp of approval, then you get placed in a cargo hold of a ship. The light is limited, and the space available makes the truck feel like a limousine. You lose track of the days at sea, and the conditions almost make you wish you never had the stamp of approval.

Then one day a harsh, piercing light blinds you as doors are opened. You lament how the sun, who was once a cherished friend has now become a source of pain. But your senses are soon overwhelmed with a cacophony of shouts and horns as the malodorous atmosphere almost knocks you out. Callous hands jerk you up, and you are held up for display in a nightmarish scene. As far as you can see, people are bidding for victims like yourself. Some of the friends you made on the boat were just sold to a squat, hairy Italian man. Before you can see where they went to, you are suddenly exposed to the crowd, and you can't believe you are hearing people bid for the right to own you. Then it's over; you get whisked into a truck and for two days all life is is a series of bumps as you approach your final destiny.

When the doors finally opens, you are taken to a large room with bright lights and soothing music. You get placed into an area with others just like you. Some are from Chile, some from Brazil, like yourself. At this point, all you want is a place to feel safe and secure. Then you see them - families just like the one you were stolen from a lifetime ago. If only you could go with one of them. They could make you safe and warm and provide that thing that has eluded you since this trip of terrors began: a home. Your revelry is interrupted by a one of the Chilean captives. Your hopes are crushed as he tells you of the horrors that await you once one of these nice, loving families gets a hold of you. You shudder as tales of getting skinned alive and then being either hacked to pieces, or just plain eaten. You wonder what you ever did to God that he hates you so. Then it happens. A beautiful woman with gorgeous eyes that defy color comes up to you and puts a bag over your head.

Little do you know that your travels are finally over. God doesn't hate you, for He led you to the one place on this earth where you can live the remainder of your days in peace and comfort. There will be no skinning alive, no hacking to pieces, and no eating. For the Lord has led you out of captivity to the Scheuer Rescue Mission, where no banana is ever eaten, but is allowed to slowly and gracefully finish its days until it decomposes in peace.

That is our calling in this house. We run a rescue mission for bananas where they can spend their remaining days devoid of fear from being eaten!

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