the parking lot at Denver’s First Baptist Church.
John Brockman’s words echoed in his brain:
“Please tell me if a man who will lecture against
nothing
is anything more than a fool.”
As Shelby thought of those ice-edged words, wrath welled up inside him. He stopped swinging the pick and dropped it on the dirt floor of the cave. His face was set in a harsh and furious mold as he shook his fists and growled, “You think because I don’t believe your nonsense about God, heaven, and hell, that you’re smarter than I am, Brockman! Ha!” He leaned down, grabbed the pick handle with both hands, and swung the sharp point of the steel head against the cave wall. When chips of gold splattered from the solid wall, Shelby hissed, “I wish I could whack your head with this pick, Brockman!”
He viciously hit the wall again, breathing hard. “You and your quote from the Bible that the fool has said in his heart that there is no God!
You
are the fool, Brockman! You’re a fool for believing thatBible and quoting stupidity from it! It’s the
wise
man who says there is no God!”
Gritting his teeth, Shelby kept swinging the pick against the wall of gold while trying to get John Brockman’s words out of his thoughts.
But the words kept coming into his mind. He could hear Brockman reminding him that he had just preached from God’s Word, warning lost sinners that if they died without repenting of their sins and receiving the Lord Jesus Christ as their Saviour, they would go to an everlasting, burning hell.
While breathing even harder, Shelby’s own words that he had spoken to John Brockman then came back to him:
“So you’re telling me that as an atheist and an unbelieving sinner, I will go to hell when I die, right?”
Brockman’s pointed reply as he lifted up his Bible echoed in Wayne’s mind:
“That’s right, but when you hit the flames of hell, you will no longer be an atheist. You will know God exists then! There are no atheists in hell. While screaming in the flames of hell now, they all know that there indeed is a God and that He means every word He says in His Bible.”
Gasping for air in his anger, Shelby stopped swinging his pick, set the top of it on the dirt floor of the cave beside him, took a deep, quivering breath, and let the handle of the pick fall to the floor. He took a few steps to where his canteen was sitting on a rock shelf, and picked it up, unscrewed the lid, and drank several gulps of water. When he’d had his fill, he replaced the lid, then set the canteen back on the rock shelf. Returning to his spot, he bent down and grasped the pick handle with bothhands again, and began chipping away at the wall of gold. While doing so, he was thinking evil thoughts about John Brockman while trying to put his mind on some other subject.
When John and Paul arrived at their ranch, the sun was just beginning to lower over the jagged Rocky Mountains to the west. The glaring steel blue sky directly above them was beginning to lose its brightness as the golden sun descended.
Paul was scanning the sky, and out of the endless space came slow-changing colored shadows from the few white clouds riding the wind. The setting sun was turning the valley where the Brockman ranch was located into a soft, red sweep of beauty, and the golden blaze on the rugged mountain peaks seemed to lift them higher toward the sky.
Taking it all in as he and his father rode their horses past the ranch house toward the barn and corral, Paul said, “Wow, Papa! Isn’t that a beautiful sunset?”
“Sure is. Our great God sure knows how to create indescribable beauty, doesn’t He?”
Paul chuckled. “Oh, yes. Like He created Mama.”
John smiled as they drew up to the corral gate. He swung down from his saddle. “I agree wholeheartedly with that, son. There aren’t enough words in the English language to fully describe her awesome beauty!”
As Paul dismounted, he smiled at his father over Chance’s back. “I sure hope
John Brockman’s words echoed in his brain:
“Please tell me if a man who will lecture against
nothing
is anything more than a fool.”
As Shelby thought of those ice-edged words, wrath welled up inside him. He stopped swinging the pick and dropped it on the dirt floor of the cave. His face was set in a harsh and furious mold as he shook his fists and growled, “You think because I don’t believe your nonsense about God, heaven, and hell, that you’re smarter than I am, Brockman! Ha!” He leaned down, grabbed the pick handle with both hands, and swung the sharp point of the steel head against the cave wall. When chips of gold splattered from the solid wall, Shelby hissed, “I wish I could whack your head with this pick, Brockman!”
He viciously hit the wall again, breathing hard. “You and your quote from the Bible that the fool has said in his heart that there is no God!
You
are the fool, Brockman! You’re a fool for believing thatBible and quoting stupidity from it! It’s the
wise
man who says there is no God!”
Gritting his teeth, Shelby kept swinging the pick against the wall of gold while trying to get John Brockman’s words out of his thoughts.
But the words kept coming into his mind. He could hear Brockman reminding him that he had just preached from God’s Word, warning lost sinners that if they died without repenting of their sins and receiving the Lord Jesus Christ as their Saviour, they would go to an everlasting, burning hell.
While breathing even harder, Shelby’s own words that he had spoken to John Brockman then came back to him:
“So you’re telling me that as an atheist and an unbelieving sinner, I will go to hell when I die, right?”
Brockman’s pointed reply as he lifted up his Bible echoed in Wayne’s mind:
“That’s right, but when you hit the flames of hell, you will no longer be an atheist. You will know God exists then! There are no atheists in hell. While screaming in the flames of hell now, they all know that there indeed is a God and that He means every word He says in His Bible.”
Gasping for air in his anger, Shelby stopped swinging his pick, set the top of it on the dirt floor of the cave beside him, took a deep, quivering breath, and let the handle of the pick fall to the floor. He took a few steps to where his canteen was sitting on a rock shelf, and picked it up, unscrewed the lid, and drank several gulps of water. When he’d had his fill, he replaced the lid, then set the canteen back on the rock shelf. Returning to his spot, he bent down and grasped the pick handle with bothhands again, and began chipping away at the wall of gold. While doing so, he was thinking evil thoughts about John Brockman while trying to put his mind on some other subject.
When John and Paul arrived at their ranch, the sun was just beginning to lower over the jagged Rocky Mountains to the west. The glaring steel blue sky directly above them was beginning to lose its brightness as the golden sun descended.
Paul was scanning the sky, and out of the endless space came slow-changing colored shadows from the few white clouds riding the wind. The setting sun was turning the valley where the Brockman ranch was located into a soft, red sweep of beauty, and the golden blaze on the rugged mountain peaks seemed to lift them higher toward the sky.
Taking it all in as he and his father rode their horses past the ranch house toward the barn and corral, Paul said, “Wow, Papa! Isn’t that a beautiful sunset?”
“Sure is. Our great God sure knows how to create indescribable beauty, doesn’t He?”
Paul chuckled. “Oh, yes. Like He created Mama.”
John smiled as they drew up to the corral gate. He swung down from his saddle. “I agree wholeheartedly with that, son. There aren’t enough words in the English language to fully describe her awesome beauty!”
As Paul dismounted, he smiled at his father over Chance’s back. “I sure hope
Similar Books
