In His good books
It was my first day at work in the London-based bank. I looked around the crowded lunchroom; sandwich-munching people shuffled newspapers and scanned magazines; one or two chatted quietly. I reached into my bag and pulled out my Bible. A very large, leather-bound Bible. I opened it and began to read but was almost immediately interrupted by a voice from across the room.
‘What on earth do you call that?’ demanded the tall, trendily dressed man from standing orders, his voice shattering the quiet ambience of the room. I flushed crimson red as newspapers dropped and everyone in the room stared.
‘It’s … it’s a Bible’, I stammered, stating the obvious, and then added ‘I’m just reading it.’ Some stifled giggles. Smoothie from standing orders laughed out loud. And within minutes, the news that a member of the God squad had arrived swept around the bank.
For a while, I dreaded the smirks and whispers when I walked by. But I was comforted to know that, even if I didn’t fit in with my colleagues, I had refused to be ashamed of Jesus - and He knew that too. I was ‘out’ with them, but ‘in’ with him.
The Christians in Sardis had been kicked out of the local synagogue. Their names were blotted out of the membership roll there, an action that could invite pressure from the Roman authorities - but they were listed in the book of life (3:5). Their privilege was to ‘dine’ with Jesus and be at His side for eternity (3:21). Being a friend of Jesus may mean that our names are removed from the listing of the popular, the acclaimed and the admired. But what’s more important - to be in the good books of today - or tomorrow?