Empty Trucks

© 2016,
published in March issue of Black River Times
 
Point To Ponder: "Empty trucks make the most noise." - Anonymous

I hadn't heard from a friend in a while so I sent him an email. A few days later I checked my Inbox only to find his email undelivered and the address "permanently" unusable. So, after a couple of days I posted a comment on his "Wall" on Facebook. Knowing he was a pretty busy guy, I waited another day of so and still no reply.  I checked his Wall and found his last post to be three or more weeks old and it spoke of an activity I might have wanted to be a part of. (I think I hear the whining of tires in the distance.)

I was tempted to think, "Well, I guess I'm the B team." I was tempted as well to go into "Mully Grubs." "Poor, poor pitiful me" or "I guess he doesn't need me or even like me" or "Maybe I've offended him somehow." But knowing him like I do, he would have said something if I had offended him. So I didn't buy the lie, at least not completely.  (But the thoughts lingered, as they always do with Satan's little seeds.) He was my friend, a brother in the Lord. There must be something else going on. (Those tires singing on the highway are getting louder.)

After a few more days, I decided I'd call him, so I opened my file of contact numbers and called one of the three listed. "This number has been permanently disconnected. If you believe you have dialed . . ." was the standard mantra I'd heard before and it gave me no solace whatsoever. I dialed the second and got some weird message that I had obviously mis-dialed or mis-recorded the number so I quickly hung up! They got erased from my book.

Then I thought, "Oh no! He's been laid-off. The phones are disconnected and he's destitute." Then I paused and thought, "But he'd call me if that happened. What are friends for anyhow?" I called the last number and got the answering machine. Being satisfied in myself for all this trouble, I left a cheery trite little message saying I was thinking of him and to call if he'd like to chat. (I think I see a set of headlights in the distance appearing out of the haze.")

After a day or so I got a brilliant brain wave. "Hey, call his workplace and subtly inquire as to his being in the office today." That took some thinking, but I've always known I had the spiritual gift of "recognizing the obvious." Shazam! He was in his office. (It appears I may be standing in the same lane as that semi-truck heading straight for me.)

After all the usually exchanges of friendly greetings, I shared my pathetic story of failed attempts to reach him over the past few weeks. In his normal courteous manner, he shared he'd had some family issues and was struggling. After a little more discussion, I discovered the real depth of his pain and offered to pray for him. He graciously accepted the offer with me being tempted to hang up and pray later. (I'd heard that one before.) So I prayed for him on the phone, gave him my sincerest love and support and we closed the conversation. (I think the truck just hit me!)

Empty trucks look huge, make loud noises but carry nothing. The truck that hit me was 1 John 3:18 in the NLT which says, "Dear children, let us stop just saying we love each other; let us really show it by our actions." (That was just the front wheels. The next morning during my normal quiet time with favorite radio pastor, John MacArthur, I got ran over by the back wheels.) 

In his message, The Greatest of These: Love, I was reminded that love described in 1 Corinthians 13 is not adjectives but verbs. Love has 15 action characteristic. The target John hit was boastful pride. Verse 4 says, "Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud."Here was my friend who had been dealing with some very heavy weights for weeks. And me? I was more concerned about me, what he thought of me, why he hadn't called me, me, me, me . . .! Blah, blah, blah. I was an "empty truck." On the outside I looked formidable but I lacked the goods. I was just noise. The freight was missing. I boasted of more than I was delivering.

If I had really truly been concerned as to his well-being, I would have prayed for him as soon as I realized we hadn't been in contact. If I really loved him I would have pulled all the stops out to find out how he was, if anyone at his church had seen him, etc. But no, I just left  my "Calling Card" with the message, "Call if you want to chat." 

Chat! The guy was bleeding on the tracks from Satan's Freight Service attempting to decimate his wife and children and destroy his faith. Needless to say, I'm praying for him now, but not without confessing my sin of proudly boasting love of a brother to my Heavenly Father. Confession is much better than "meaningless noise like a loud gong or a clanging cymbal." But I'll probably wear the tire marks for a while.

How about you? Got any tire marks on you? Check it out. As the old saying goes, "When everything seems to be coming your way, look out. You may be in the wrong lane." I was.