I was in my dorm room, talking to a girl on the telephone. In the dark.
But none of that is the strange part. In fact, I often talked on the phone with girls, and I often conversed past sunset, too engrossed in the conversation to take notice that the room had grown dark. No, that was all normal. The strange part had to do with the door.
It opened.
Which should not have happened.
Our dorm room doors always locked, automatically, when closed. You needed a key to open one of these doors. And my key was in my pocket. Yet, while I sat, motionless now, mouth hanging open, voiceless, in my dorm room, in the dark, I watched as the door swung silently open, painting my floor with a rectangle of light from the hallway.
Next, one of my fellow students stepped into the room just as silently as my opening door and my now voiceless conversation. He . . . the only word for it was . . . crept . . . to the center of the room, glancing about, pausing for a longer time as his eye fell on the bed. Ensuring, I assumed, that the bed was empty. I observed him for a few more seconds. Then, reaching above and behind me, I flipped on the room lights.
He jumped.
Then, finally seeing me sitting in the chair just inside the door, he looked me right in the eye and said, "Sorry. Wrong room." He then walked past me, out the door, and down the hall toward his own room.
I thought about that strange occurrence for quite a while; about two hours. Then, I called campus security and reported what had occurred.
Perhaps you're wondering why I waited so long to make that call. The reason is this: Bob (not his real name) had been sent to our small christian college by his family because he "needed better companions" who would serve as "positive influences" to help steer him away from some "troubling choices" he had made back home. In short: they sent him to a christian college in hopes it would turn him from a life of crime.
I hesitated so long because I knew all this about Bob and suspected that "turning him in" to the Dean of Men for breaking into my room would surely lead to his dismissal. And I would be the cause of that. It might well mean he had exhausted his last chance.
But in the end, I did do just that. Things had gone missing from various dorm rooms for weeks. Others were being violated by someone who had no respect for the rules or for their fellow human beings. I could not afford to not report the strange situation.
Sometimes in life we encounter a person who, due to poor choices, is like the branch in this week's Lectionary passage from John 15; a branch that has to be cut off because it no longer produces acceptable fruit. It is always a moment of profound sadness to realize we may play a role in the events that leads to them being cut off from the very associations that could benefit them. If only they would choose the better path.
It makes God sad when He must remove a branch from the Vine, from the ONLY means to life. But, God expects fruit to be produced when we are connected to His Vine. Those who DO produce fruit will have unproductive areas of their lives trimmed away.
And those who do not produce acceptable fruit will be wholly removed and sent away.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Fifth Sunday of Easter (May 3, 2015)
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/
Acts 8:26-40
Psalm 23:25-31
1John 4:7-22
John 15:1-8
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It's Lectionary Breakfast time! We meet Friday mornings at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant from 8:00 - 9:00. Join us for scripture, laughter, and tasty food.
You're welcome, always.
Enjoy the week!
Steve
Photo by Martin Pope (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/gardening/gardeningadvice/6563482/How-to-prune-vines.html)
