At some point in the journey, we got a flat tire on the truck or trailer. Dad stopped in a Mexican village to have the tire repaired. In the village, we saw a cute teenage girl walking down the street. Dad pointed her out to me, shook his head and said, “That girl doesn’t have a dog’s chance of being saved.”
I nodded. Very sad indeed.
The point, as my 8-year-old brain understood it, was that this girl (and everyone in her village) could not come to know Jesus, because there was not a Church of Christ nearby. That God could not reach out and touch their lives.
Nowadays, I might disagree with Dad. I might say something like ... “I believe God is able.”
|My brother Jimmy and me, visiting Old Tucson before our trip to Mexico.|