Stock Up On Things
I must work the works
of him that sent me,
while it is day:
the night cometh,
when no man can work.
— John 9:4
It was a warm, sunny Sunday morning, and my pudgy face was
pressed with passion and conviction into my soft pillow. After decades of
experience, I'm a varsity letter-winner in sleeping in. My father-in-law
doesn't call me "Snoozin'" for nothing.
Church would start in about 45 minutes. If I really tumped
it, I could get there.
But ahhhhh! My cozy bed! My comfy pillow! Just one more
minute, Lord! I love to worship You in Your house, but . . . mmmmmmm . . . zzzzzzzzzz.
Just then, a still, small Voice spoke in my head:
Stock up on things.
I snapped awake. HUNH?
Stock UP on things, the silent Voice repeated.
The tone was insistent but not scary - urging me to take the
message seriously without, in the words of the ancient scholars, freaking out.
Like most born-again Christians, I've heard this Voice a few
times over the years. I knew exactly Who was speaking. When He lifts the Veil
to deliver a message, He never just shoots the breeze. There's always a
purpose, and it's always important.
I took the message to mean that we should purchase a few
weeks' or months' worth of the provisions of everyday life, enough to sustain
our family and some others. Prudent people do that kind of thing, just in case.
But the only extras we had on hand were, like, old jars of pimiento and
garbanzo beans. We'd never stocked our pantry with much thought beyond the
coming week. Flashlights? Extra batteries? A few jugs of water? I thought that
was for militia guys and stuff.
But significantly, I HADN'T fielded a message like that in
the build-up to Y2K. All we had stocked up on for that big event were champagne
and some party hats. As it turned out, there was no need.
So this was different. Not apocalyptic: just direct.
It was a pretty clear indication that Something Big was afoot.
God was on the move. Like the Good Shepherd that He is, He didn't want His
people caught with their pants down, preparation-wise. And while, in the long
run, whatever would happen would be for our good, in the short term, I figured there
was going to be some kind of a Bad-o-Rama.
Now, I never had visions of advancing tanks, riots over empty
grocery shelves, or people leaving a royal-flush poker hand to rush to the
fallout shelter as the mushroom cloud rose. Nothing like that! The Voice was
prodding, but not in the sense that a horrible emergency was coming - just
something for which practical preparations were in order.
There was a clear implication that I should tell others
about this. But I waited a few weeks to get confirmation so that I wasn't going
off half-cocked, getting people upset. Nobody likes a Chicken Little!
Soon, a neighbor mentioned having a little disaster larder with
batteries, beef jerky and non-perishables . . . friends told us they've made
themselves self-sufficient with a generator and a mini-grocery store in their
basement . . . an elderly friend spoke of drinking tea made from rosehips
during World War II as the only way to get vitamin C . . . the local Mormons
had an open house demonstrating all kinds of disaster preparedness techniques .
. . and I spotted and then had to buy, because of the title, a book in the
bargain bin ($6.98): "What to Do When the Sh*t Hits the Fan."
So we followed the how-to. We bought a freezer, and have
filled it. I bought canning equipment and have reacquainted myself with kitchen
appliances, such as the crock pot, ice-cream maker and the bread machine, that
haven't seen the light of day for years.
I've gathered quite a few things we couldn't live without -
including a little dark chocolate that I promise not to filch (he'p me,
Jaysus!), and several canisters of powdered Crystal Light Peach Tea, which has
zero nutritional value but is my current lust-fave. Hey! Survival value comes
in all forms!
We cleared out a little section of the storeroom to put these
treasures, just in case. We don't exactly have camo outfits and cartons of
MRE's. But we're set.
As we count down to the anniversary of the 9/11 terror
attacks this week, it feels good.
I really hope we DON'T have some kind of a repeat 9/11
disaster, or that the swine flu gets everybody down, or that some kind of cyberterrorism
or electromagnetic pulse takes out our Internet communications - though the
latter wouldn't be too bad for a few days, if we could be spared the
mind-numbing sound effects of Maddy's favorite Internet game, Club Penguin.
All I know is, we responded to the Voice. That's all anybody
can do.
If we don't need this stuff, fine! If we do, and if we can share
it to be a blessing to others, so much the better.
All praise and thanks to the One Who has gone ahead of us,
in every way, to prepare a place for us in any event, no matter what . . . the
Voice which is totally true, totally trustworthy, and always to be heeded.
So if the going gets rough, come on over to our house for
the necessities of life: a glass of peach tea, a bite of dark chocolate, and a
few rounds of Club Penguin - because something tells me that, in case of some
kind of a future disaster, Maddy will get her way. The generator will be hooked
up to the computer instead of the freezer, for going without Club Penguin for a
few days would be a REAL disaster.
In the meantime, hope you'll take stock of things in more
ways than one - and find peace, rest and sleep in the loving arms of your
Savior, who'll never let you get caught napping. All you have to do is listen
when He speaks. †
