My old friend came in and sat down. It seemed like a morning for remembering the past.
It turned out to be a morning for looking to the future.
Somehow though, there are always more important things to consider than those that are most obvious. We talk about life as we know it, but larger truths lie waiting to be appropriated.
Our conversation was interrupted a time or two by customers, come to replenish their supply of guitar picks, or banjo strings. Then she came in 
lugging a case that could only hold a trombone. I remembered the young lady from her visit just days ago.
“I did what you suggested. I brought it by to be sure it’s not going to be a bad horn for my son. Do you mind taking a look at it?”
I didn’t mind. It was a good horn and I told her so, suggesting a few things she might do to keep it in that condition. She thanked me and left.
As I returned to my seat, my friend, who had listened and watched the interlude carefully, stared at me—a mixture of surprise and annoyance written on his face.
He wanted to know how she had the nerve to walk in with an instrument she had purchased elsewhere and ask me to help her determine its suitability. He had also noted that there was no request on my part for a fee, nor had she offered one.
I brushed his concerns aside.
“I told her to do it. I want to be sure as many kids as possible get good instruments, even when I’m not the one to provide them.”
He sat in silence for a moment or two. Mouth hanging open in disbelief and hands waving in the air, he digested the concept.
In a return—of sorts—to our earlier conversation, he asked one more question.
“Where are they going to go to get that done when you’re not around anymore?”
My friend avers that we offer a service no other business would offer. I’m sure he’s wrong, but I can’t prove it.
I do wish I could answer his question. It bothers me.
I have thought about it before. I thought about it more after he left today.
It’s an odd thing, though. That more important truth I mentioned earlier keeps intruding on my consideration.
Peter said to the Master, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the only words capable of giving life. There is no one else.” (John 6:67-69)
A large number of people who had been following Jesus were deserting Him, not able to accept the truths He was teaching. He had wondered aloud if the original disciples were also going to abandon Him.
Peter and his comrades knew the truth. There was no one else to turn to. No other person who walked the earth, no other teacher who offered his version of truth, had words that could give eternal life. There was no one else.
There was no one else.
There never will be.
You know, my friend is wrong.
Others will come behind me. If they don’t do the same things, the new methods will suffice.
The music will not die. It didn’t really need me in the first place.
The same cannot be said of those who follow Jesus. There will never be a different Savior. There will never be another Son of God.
No one else will ever offer the words of life.
Ever.
No one else will ever offer the words of life. Ever. Share on XAnd unlike me, He won’t be retiring. His offer stands. To every generation. Until the end of days.
Come unto me, all who are weary and burdened with care, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)
Leave your money at home. You can’t afford this service.
He wouldn’t accept it anyway.
The graveyards are full of indispensable men.
(Charles DeGaulle ~ French statesman ~ 1890-1970)
Your eternal word, O Lord,
stands firm in heaven.
Your faithfulness extends to every generation,
as enduring as the earth you created.
(Psalm 119:89-90 ~ NLT)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2016. All Rights Reserved.