That’s when he got very excited: “So you know Jesus in your heart!” (Which I translated to, “So you’ve been saved!”) Told him I knew I was saved because it happened, oh, 2,000 years ago, on a Friday afternoon, about 3 p.m., outside the gates of Jerusalem.
And then he did what I suspected he would do all along. “So as a person of faith, what do you think of what they’ve done in Minnesota, where they are letting gay people get married?”
“It’s fine with me,” I said.
All of his happiness then fled. “The sin of Sodom and Gomorrah …”
I was rude. I did not not let him finish his sentence. “Sir, I could spend the next four hours explaining to you what that sin really is. If you want to do that, let me know. Because I know a heck of a lot more about this than you apparently do.”
“You’re going to hell,” he said.
Me?
I went inside the store and did my shopping. At the checkout line, where I know all the folks, I told them about “that guy out there.” They rolled their eyes. I told my friends, “We don’t need any more folks coming here to tell us we can only go to heaven if we believe what THEY believe. Sheesh!”
Everyone agreed.
I went home a happy woman.
Because I know – I KNOW – that God knows more than I do, and that since God’s answer is love, mine has to be as well.
End of story.
