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It's all part of growing up - some people never will.
The air was hot, and steel rang on steel as Mike swung the hammer again and again in an attempt to separate the stubborn parts. Sweat trickled into his eyes and his shoulders were aching from swinging the two-pound hammer. He was miles from town on a blistering stretch of desert highway, and the truck had to be fixed so he could make it back to town. He was having a bad day. There seemed no end to the stubbornness of the twenty-year old kingpin he was working to remove. To do this work in the desert heat, with no torch, no press, no proper tools, would try the patience of any man.
The highway stretched away in both directions like a gray ribbon through the desert, and the rising of heat waves made the distance seem wavy and unreal, painting false pools of water on the scorching pavement far away... The heat seemed almost a tangible thing; a steel tool left lying in the sun would quickly become too hot to touch. Buzzards rode the wind currents in circles over something far out in the cactus and sage.
Out on the far reaches of the highway came the sound of a lone vehicle, first a faint noise, then a definite whine of tires on pavement, coupled with the sound of a poorly running engine. While still a great way off, the vehicle snorted and backfired, then the sound of the engine rattled into silence as a battered Ford pickup coasted off the road onto the shoulder. Mike wiped the sweat from his forehead and raised his eyes to peer into the shimmering heat as a cloud of dust settled around the old truck. The faint sound of a door creaking open reached his ears.
The Voice came quietly into his spirit like it did sometimes...
"Go help." said the Spirit of God.
"But I have problems of my own here!" Mike complained out loud. The Voice spoke again..
"Go help." Mike closed his eyes for a moment, resigned himself to a long, hot walk, and took another look at the stubborn kingpin he'd been fighting for half an hour. It had been moving less than an eighth of an inch with each blow of his hammer. Mike laid his hammer and drift in the dusty dirt, came to his feet, and reached in his own pickup for his canteen. He picked up a pair of pliers and a screwdriver from his rusty toolbox and shoved them into the back pocket of his jeans. In humble obedience he began his long walk toward the crippled truck in the distance, his own ride sitting forlornly alone behind him in the blazing sun.
His shoulders were sore, and his right arm had the tight feeling of muscles that couldn't seem to relax after his long session of steady hammering. Every step seemed ineffective as he plodded along. He had about a mile to go. A fuzzy tarantula scuttled across the highway, and a Cadillac whizzed past kicking up dust. Mike glanced over to where the buzzards were circling.
"No doubt they're watching me now," He thought ruefully. His canteen sloshed with the last of his water and he thought of the cold drinks he got from the fountain in the Sunday School building.
An arrogant old man leaned against the fender of the battered Ford truck. He was waiting impatiently for Mike to finish his two thousand yard walk.
"It sure took you long enough to get here!" He barked
"What seems to be the problem?" Mike asked, ignoring the rude greeting.
"What does it look like, you idiot, it quit on me!"
"Open the hood and let's have a look."
Mike felt his blood pressure rising. This old guy was really a pill. He wondered briefly if he'd misread the Spirit's prompting, and instantly he knew that he hadn't. Jesus was putting iron in his soul.
"Spin it over for me," he told the old man, who reached in the window and turned the key. The old engine spun for ten seconds with no hint of any life of its own. "All right!" he shouted over the noise.
"What's wrong with it?" snapped the old man.
"Don't know yet." Mike was becoming angrier by the moment at the old man's attitude. This would really take patience...
"I knew it! You can't fix my truck any more than you can fix yours!" The old man snapped.
"Can you fix it?" Mike asked, consciously controlling his voice and his anger. A big desert rattlesnake slithered under the truck and across the highway.
"No, I can't fix it you idiot!" the old man snapped again. He really loved to snap. Mike popped the clips loose from the distributor cap and moved it so he could see the points. He reached with his screwdriver and shorted the terminals at the starter relay. As the engine spun briefly he watched. The points were barely moving at all. He loosened the screw while the old man suspiciously watched and opened the points a little, then locked the screw back down.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Mike smiled, resisting the urge to plant one of his sledgehammer fists on the old man's jaw. He spun the starter again and this time a blue spark shot out of the tower on the coil and stabbed at one of the primary terminals. "This thing snaps almost as good as the old man," Mike thought. Pulling the dipstick, he acquired a small amount of oil and smeared it on the distributor cam.
"What was that for?" came the snap.
"It just might keep you on the highway and off the shoulder." Mike
was glad he had found the problem so easily. This old man’s attitude was thinning his patience in a big way. He kept countering his fleshly desire to snap back by thinking of Jesus' words, spoken by the same Spirit of God who had sent him here...
"Let your light shine before men...
"...whoever shall force you to go one mile, go with him two..."
"...love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you in order that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven."
"If possible, so far is it depends on you, be at peace with all men." And from Jesus’ remarks about the Good Samaritan:
"...go and do likewise..."
But the man the good Samaritan helped wasn't a jerk... Mike popped the clips back on the distributor.
"See if it'll start." The old man turned the key once more and the engine roared to life and a cloud of blue smoke floated from behind the truck and out over the sagebrush.
"I'd like to have some of the water in that canteen." the old man demanded.
"Give to him who asks of you, and do not turn away from him who asks to borrow...
"If your enemy is thirsty, give him drink..." Mike tossed him the canteen and watched him drink the last of the water. He threw the canteen back in Mike's general direction, got in his truck, slammed the door, spinning a cloud of dust and blue smoke into the air as he turned onto the highway and headed back to town. Mike picked up his canteen from where the old man had thrown it.
"I don't suppose that was much of a surprise." He thought. He realized as he considered his circumstances that he should have been angry but he was strangely calm and peaceful in his spirit, knowing that he had acted in obedience to the indwelling Spirit of God. An hour later he had his truck going, and he praised God as he pulled onto the highway. He felt like he could drink a drum of water. His shoulders were sore, his knuckles were bleeding, and he just didn't have much more sweat. The wind felt good blowing through the open windows, so he drove faster to get more of it. He came over a small rise to see the old man beside the road again, this time with two flat tires.
"Stop," said the Spirit
"You can't be serious," Mike muttered, shaking his head as he pulled over. The old man instantly recognized him.
"You caused me to have two flat tires!" shouted the old man. Mike's course of action was perfectly clear.
"Well, it's not far to town. Get in and I'll give you a ride." Mike drove the old man back to town, listening all the way to hateful cursing and complaining. It was almost funny. He pulled up to the gas pumps the Conoco station, and Jerry came walking out to the island.
"Jerry, this fella has a couple of flats on his truck about ten miles back up the road. He doesn't have any money. Take care of it for him and put it on my account." Jerry nodded, and Mike drove away from the station as the old man started his tirade on Jerry.
Far above the clouds, far above the stars, golden numbers increased in a particular record book with Mike's name on it, and Jesus smiled at the grizzled, light-hearted young man He was pushing toward maturity...
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Sharing Knowledge 
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