It was midnight and he was asleep after a long day. It had been messy, a near riot but he now had the two offenders in custody secure in stocks. Singing but secure in the stocks Then the earthquake hit. And everything fell apart. Literally. Doors swung open. Locks fell off. He just knew all the prisoners were gone. Disaster. No way he could catch them, and it would be him in those stocks. He feels the sword at his side, heavy. An idea hits him, a bad idea. Better to go out easy on your sword, than at the hands of the prisoners… or the one that put them there. Then a voice speaks out of the chaos, “Don’t do it, we are all here.” “Lights”, he cries out. He must see it for himself. Could it be true? Sure enough there they sit. What do you ask them? How? Why? What happened? But for this Philippian jailer, there is only one question, “ Sirs, what must I do to be saved ?” For many folks, we never ...
The Preacher sought to find delightful words and to write words of truth correctly.