Where There Is No Vision

Ah, what practical vision abounds in over-the-counter Christian Bookstores. Across the bookstore from Kittel’s Theological where the “John 3:16 Frisbees” lie gleaming in the counter in redemption blue plastic, has at last come a Spiritual answer for Christians in the North: the “Jesus Ice Scraper.”

I could hardly look upon them without feeling cheap and worldly because I have used only a secular “Firestone Ice Scraper” for most of my long winters. (But then what kind of life-depth can you expect from one who has also used only a “Pepsi beats Coke Frisbee” instead of a Scripture Frisbee?)

What made me feel even worse is that I had overlooked the potential power of the “Jesus Ice Scraper.” Perhaps the efficacy of such a scraper could be merely waved over light frost on a February windshield while ice is rebuked in the name of consecrated celluloid.

Gazing down into a pail filled with the scrapers, I realized the vast power now available to Christians in the North. Vision—blessed sight—making travel and light possible to all those blinded by frost. Oh how true the blest injunction “Open my eyes that I may see …” but with the “Jesus Ice Scraper,” there is not only vision, but interstate travel.

As l gazed downward, a divine voice broke in the air around me and I heard the ancient words again: “What wilt thou?”

“Oh, plastic joy,” I cried, “that I might receive my sight.”

“Then crucify thyself,” cried a voice rising from the pail of scrapers, “if thou wouldst see, and take unto thee this 89-cent purchase and come from darkness to marvelous sight.”

“Still,” I cried, “I see through this glass darkly. I see only little Hondas as trees driving.”

And at the word, I scraped again and saw every Honda clearly.

I had been ...

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