"Testifying is the purest form of human communication. The deepest meaning, the deepest conviction of one's soul is being given to another through the medium of the Holy Spirit."—Stephen R. Covey
By Scoti Springfield Domeij
Was in a secondhand store looking through the religious book section, when I overheard a man talking to his wife. He picked up one book after another, scoffing at the authors—not his brand of theology. One especially caught his ire.
Heretical—in fact. Gospel according to him.
I felt something click inside of me. His tone triggered my gag reflex, but also intrigued me. Watching him captivated me more than scanning the spines of books lining the bookshelves.
He pulled another book from the shelf and said to his wife, "Do you know who this is?"
With a condescending tenor, he informed her—"Cult leader. Better buy this book for research."
Even though his voice sounded low key, his opinions shouted. My visceral reaction? Felt like smacking him or at least offering him a bar of soap to wash out his mouth and heart. For some reason, I got the feeling that he was a 'Christian' writer and I was tempted to ask, "Who are you?"
However, I felt so repulsed by the way he treated and talked to his wife and opined about others, I really did not want to know. If he was an author I recognized, I did not want to feign liking him. A tiff ensued between them. They settled their spat and left.
What fascinated me most was that this stranger did not pretend to hide his disdain or arrogance. Maybe he failed to realize—a bystander watcheth. Not only did I notice his testimony, but also I examined how it made me feel. And I wondered, Who is this man's Jesus?
The Jesus I Never Knew by Philip Yancey was the only book I found to buy, which seemed oddly apropos for what my eyes and heart just observed.