A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with the enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later. As I grew up, I never questioned his place in our family.
Mom taught me to love the Word of God, and dad taught me to obey it. But “The Stranger” was our storyteller. He could weave the most fascinating tales, adventures, mysteries and comedies. He could hold our whole family spellbound for hours each evening. He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Buck and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movie stars.
“The Stranger” was an incessant talker. Dad didn’t seem to mind. But sometimes Mom would quietly get up while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of a faraway place, go to her room, read her Bible and pray.
I wonder now if she ever prayed that “The Stranger” would leave. You see, my dad ruled the household with certain moral convictions. But “The Stranger” never felt an obligation to honor them. Profanity for example, was not allowed in our house – not from our friends or adults. Our long-time visitor, however, used occasional four-letter words that burned my ears and made dad squirm. To my knowledge, “The Stranger” was never confronted.
My dad was a teetotaler who did not permit alcohol in h i s home, not even for cooking. But “The Stranger” felt like we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often. He made smoking cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely about sex. His comments were sometimes suggestive and generally embarrassing.
I now know that “The Stranger” influenced my early concepts of the man/woman relationship. As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the “Stranger” did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.
More than fifty years have passed since “The Stranger” moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive. But if you were to walk into my parent’s home today, you would still find him sitting over in the corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name? … We always just called him TV.
Prayer: Father give me the discernment to know what I should and should not watch. Amen! In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen!
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Copyright (c) 2006 – Christian Weekly Devotion – All Rights Reserved
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