The Five-Thirty A.M. Call

By: Erik Mundall

I got a call this morning--
It came without a warning!
A fellow human being was in need.
He chatted for awhile
And talked of his lifestyle
Of sex and drugs and wanting to find weed.

He said he'd partied all night,
His friends were still in sight,
But soon he planned to go to bed for sure.
Five-thirty's pretty early,
To call a stranger, surely;
On top of that his language was not pure.

I had no weed to offer,
No acid could I proffer,
But something better I had on my mind.
'Twas he who asked me first, though,
About the God that I know--
As though he knew just what he wished to find.

He asked me if God sent us
To Satan when we sinned thus.
I told him God is willing to forgive;
That God who died in our place
Loves us no matter what race
And promises that we with Him can live...

If we accept redemption
By divine intervention
He promises to cleanse us from our sin.
He asked about the end time--
I told him there's not much time
Before our Savior will return again.

I told him Christ is coming
In judgment without warning
And that we should be ready now for then.
I think the guy is searching,
Though on the fence he's perching,
His questions showed me that he had a yen

For truth that will not falter
For peace that will not alter
For happiness that passes what he knows--
I pray that God will help him,
Will guide and bless and keep him,
And that he, safe in Jesus, daily grows.


Madonna succumbs to pot.



His life seems one of peril
With guns, sex, drugs not sterile--
A friend of his was toying with a gun!
He left off talking to me
When his friend grabbed the gun, see,
And this is where the story's just begun!

His friend played Russian roulette
And though neither had I met,
I found my heart grew fearful at the thought.
The gun was put in its space
But then something else took place;
I heard my friend repeating on the spot,

"Put the gun back away now!"
And next I heard the gun's "POW!"
He swore and that is when the phone went dead.
He'd given me a number,
And still I could remember,
But when I tried I woke someone in bed!

Now since I cannot reach him,
Although the outlook be grim,
I'm praying that he'll find the Lord through this.
He may be badly injured,
His friend may soon be interred,
But God still reaches out through things amiss.

I count myself as quite blessed--
With this thought I am impressed,
That with the privilege of knowing Christ
Comes a most solemn duty,
And yet a thing of beauty,
To share His life, why He was sacrificed.



Written: June 30, 1996

This is an account of a true incident! I wrote this on the morning of the call, following a failed attempt to trace the call and see if the fellow was alright. -- EJM





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