There's a little country church over in Lincoln County,
Oklahoma, with a name that always gets my attention. And
sometimes my dander, dependin' on just how I interprete their
sign on a given day. The name of it is, "Only Way Baptist
Church".
There are some mighty fine folks at that church, mostly
of the Indian persuasion. I've attended services there a time or
two and have known several members there over the years.
But just what the heck do they mean by that sign?
It might mean, "We're the ones and only ones who know the only way
to heaven." That possible meaning is what always irritated me,
whenever I thought of it. Or it might mean, "Our Baptist
Church is the only way to heaven," which don't sit well in the
saddle with me, neither. Or the third possible meaning, and the
one I prefer to think they had in mind, is: "We are witnesses
that Jesus is the only way to salvation."
Now, there's probably some of you folks who ain't never
found the way to salvation. You've been wandering over hill
and dale, through cactus and quicksand, like some calf cut off
from the herd. So I've got some almighty good news for you:
Jesus is the way. He is the road to glory, the highway to
heaven.
Over yonder in the Gospel of John, long about chapter
14 and verse 6, Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth and the
life." Yes siree Bob, Jesus is the way. And, as I like to think
that church sign says, the straight-out truth of the matter is
that Jesus is the only way.
Let's just say that one of them old rodeo cowpokes is on
the way to a rodeo. He is driving his pickup and pullin' two
horses in his trailer, headed for a rodeo at the Lazy E Arena
near Guthrie, Oklahoma. And say that he ain't never been in
Oklahoma before. He is a stranger in a far and distant land and
he ain't got a map, so he gets lost when he drives into
Oklahoma City. He ain't sure which road to take to get to
Guthrie, much less the Lazy E Arena.
Now, if he takes I-35 south of Oklahoma City he might
wind up at Norman or Paul's Valley or Ardmore or, heaven
forbid, even in Dallas. But he ain't never gonna get to Guthrie
or the Lazy E Arena no matter how fast or how far he drives in
that direction. It ain't the right way. There's only one way or at
least one freeway that will get him there.
Or he can take I-40 east of Oklahoma City. That would
take him to Shawnee and on to Okemah and, heaven forbid, on
to Fort Smith and even to Little Rock. But he'd be just like that
airline pilot who announced to his passengers, "Ladies and
gentlemen, we have both good news and bad news for you.
The bad news is that lightning has knocked out all of our
navigational instruments. We are lost up here in the dark of
night among these storm clouds. However, the good news is
that we have a strong tail wind and we are making excellent
time."
I realize, ladies, that you think all of us gents are
dead-set against askin' anybody for directions. And you're
right. But that's because usually we ain't actually lost, we just
ain't real clear on the best way to get where we wanta go. I
tend to believe that is why Moses wandered in the desert for
nigh on to 40 years.
Suppose, though, that this poor cowpoke is as
shore-nuff lost as Mary's little lamb. He'd best pull off to a
truck stop and get directions or at least stop at a 7-11 and get
a road map. Then, once he gets on the right road, and heads
north on I-35 toward Guthrie and the Lazy E Arena's exit, he'd
best stick to it.
That's the same principle when it comes to how to get
through them Pearly Gates way up yonder in the sky. You gotta
get on the right road, which is Jesus his own self, and stay put.
Fact is, dear brethren and sisterns, that plenty of us get
off the track. Here the Lord done marked the way for us in the
Bible and we shuck that road map and stray ever which way.
Don't make a lick of sense does it?
Once we get off of the Lord's way, it don't take long 'til
we are knee-deep in devilment, just like some old cow bogged
to her hips in a mud hole. We lay there just a moanin' and a
groanin' and bellerin' for help. And we says to ourselves, "Self,
I just don't understand why the Lord led me into this mud hole."
The plain truth is that the Lord told you where to go to avoid
that mud hole, but you took it upon yourself to detour down
some other road. The Lord is gonna be put out enough at you
for ignoring his road map, so don't go blamin' the good Lord for
somethin' you done yourself.
I will say, though, that you probably did have a little
encouragement to make that detour. The devil himself shore
don't like to see God's people marchin' down the straight and
narrow way that leads to life. No, sir. He'd like nothin' more
than for you to detour for an extended trip to where the
weather is real warm. Even hotter'n El Paso in July.
The devil has all kinds of false road signs he puts up to
tempt you to forsake the real way. You've seen them freeway
signs that say, "Food, gas and Lodging, this exit". That's kinda
what the devil does. Only his signs read, "Fun and Pleasure,
this exit" or "Money and Power, this exit" or "Sexual Freedom,
this exit". And when you take one of them exits, and leave
Jesus the Way behind, you wind up bogged down in a mud hole
of sin. That's a natural fact.
That's exactly what happened to ol' Samson back yonder
in the Olden Testament days, as told about in chapters 13
through 16 of the book of Judges. Samson was traveling along
in the Lord's way when the devil hisself got him to payin' more
attention to Delilah than he was to the Lord, and that
strongman found himself off the way and in a mud hole of sin.
He was laughing and carryin' on so much with that pretty
young thing that he took his eyes off the road and plumb run
his wagon into the ditch. Yes, sir, he did for a fact.
That Delilah filly, she was somethin' else. The devil done
set it in her mind to find out the secret to why Samson was so
all-fired strong. Samson was sorta a combination of John
Wayne, Rambo, Hulk Hogan, Popeye and Paul Bunyan. He was
the roughest cob in the outhouse, I'll tell you that for shore.
She doused herself with some Channel Number 9 and
snuggled right up to ol' Samson. Back when I was younger, I
had a cowgirl or two snuggle up to me--but they smelt like they
was wearin' Corral Number 9. Delilah, though, knew how to
turn on the charm. She twirled his long locks of hair around
her fingers, nibbled on his ear, and generally got him into a
state of agitation. She kept on sayin', "You shore 'nuff whipped
up on them Philistines. Ohhh, you are soooo handsome and
strong." And in between all of that gooing and gushing, she
begged him to tell her how come he was so dadblamed strong.
You have to give Samson credit for tryin' to keep his
secret, but he was leading her on wild goose chases when he
shoulda been high-tailin' it outta her presence. She wore him
down and he finally said, Oh, shucks, ma'am, the fact is my
strength is in my long hair. If'n I was to whop it off, I'd be so
weak that a ten-year-old girl could beat me in arm wrestlin'."
Well, sir, about that time Samson decided to take a little
siesta. He stretched out and commenced to saw logs. He was
snorin' so much that he didn't hear that little "clip, clip, clip"
sound right around his ears. It was that Delilah woman just a
hackin' away at his hair. She didn't stop with a Mohawk hair
cut. She didn't even stop with a butch. She made his head look
like a door knob.
When that ol' boy woke hisself up, he knew his strength
was gone. He weeped and wailed, "Lord, have mercy. I done
followed that devil woman down the wrong road. She led me
astray. I was walkin' in the Lord's way, and now I'm headed
down the wrong way."
His enemies heard all about his weakness, so they
banded together like coyotes and captured him. Then they
poked his eyes out with red-hot brandin' irons. And matched
him up with a mule and made him plow the ground. Folks,
plowin' the ground is somethin' no self-respectin' cowpoke
wants any part of. If it can't be done on horseback, a cowboy
flat don't want to do it. And there was poor ol' Samson, workin'
in tandem with a cockeyed mule.
The Lord saw all of this, of course. He decided that he'd
let Samson learn his lesson, but then he would let him do one
more spectacular thing. And shore 'nuff, after a spell,
Samson's hair grew back out and the Lord gave him his
strength back. And while all of his enemies was partying and
drinkin' toasts to themselves, Samson spread out his arms and
wrapped 'em around two of the major support beams. He
jerked them beams out like they was toothpicks, and the whole
place fell in and killed everyone. And Samson was finally back
on the right way, and the only way, to the bosom of Abraham.
As I see it, pardners, there's two major lessons to be
learned here. First, don't let no pretty-smellin', easy-to-look-at
young heifer detour you from the Lord's way. And second, if
you do get bushwhacked by Satan and stray down that owl
hoot trail, just remember that the Lord stands ready to help
you get your back on the only trail that leads to life.
Amen and amen.