A friend called me at 1 this morning to drive him home from the bar that he just got kicked out of. He was coming on a bit too strong to a married woman and her brother was the manager and had him leave the bar. He didn’t have money for a cab and he didn’t want to leave his Jaguar in the parking lot. I’m glad he had the frame of mind to not drive drunk. He didn’t want his girlfriend to get pissed at him (that’s why he called me instead).
The bar he was at was a mile away. I told him I would be there in about 20 minutes. So I walked there to find him asleep in his car and I drove him home. His speech slurred, he said: “you ‘re a rrrreally ggggreat fffriend. I wwwwouldn’t do the same tttho. I would have left you tttthere.”
I said, “I know.”
He said “Aaaaand you sssstilll pppicked me up?”
I didn’t respond.
I picked him up for this reason: I wouldn’t have wanted to read the paper the next morning and read that he died in a car crash, and I had the opportunity to prevent it and didn’t. Also, I try to (sometimes failing, but nevertheless) behave on the premise that I might die right now. This might by my last chance to be Christ-like: I always imagine God asking me (even though He already knows the answer) if, when my friend Jeff called last night, needing my help and I was able to help him, did I? I want to be able to answer Yes.
I have a tattoo on my arm, written in Arabic, that says ‘ Well Done, Thou Good and Faithful Servant.’ That’s what I’d like God to say to me:
Well Done, Thou Good And Faithful Servant.