He wrote to his young protégé and warned that in the last days there will be people that have a form of godliness but deny its power.
When I was younger I used to enjoy reading magazines with glossy covers and full color pictures inside. Well, I didn’t exactly read them; it was all about the pictures. My favorite was Road & Track. I still remember tracing the outlines of the shiny Ferraris and marveling at the way the lights enhanced the seductive curves of the Lamborghinis.
Imagine my lust bubbling over when one day when I came across an advertisement that said I could have my very own exotic sports car. It was inexpensive and I’d need to put it together myself, but it looked like the real thing!
My dreams were never quite realized. My allowance usually disappeared at the corner store- gobbled up by Pac-Man or some other two dimensional digital fiend- and thus even the replicas remained locked firmly in the realm of fantasy.Not so with my religion. I learned almost by osmosis that the pinnacles of Christianity could be attained with a little hard work, one good set of clothes, and a confident smile. Oh, it didn’t accelerate or handle like the real thing, but the authentic Christianity was only found in the book with the golden words on front. My version was cheap and virtually indistinguishable from the original.
It worked great, right up until I tried it out on the race track of life. The sharp curves of other people’s pain showed the flaws in the steering- I hit the wall. The pit stop was full of sagely advice, but was chronically empty of spare parts and fuel. When I hit the pot hole of my mistakes and disappointments it all fell apart.
Does your religion look like the real thing? Great. Good for you.
But what’s under the hood?
