I was in the supermarket recently. A man resembling Santa Clause and wore a fishing hat approached me as I was mulling over spices, and I thought he assumed I worked there and was going to ask me where to find something. I looked up and he handed me a clean business card from a worn stack tied together with a rubberband. I already knew what this was about and cursed myself for not having my mp3 on; it can be a handy defense specifically in situations like these.
I looked at the business card without reading past Mt. Ranier (already a discouraging distance for whatever it was that followed). “Alright, let’s have it,” I thought to myself. The man explained that this was a church where he was a member. That they held service several days a week. “I don’t really go to church,” I told him, trying to return his business card to him, though he offered no hand to take it back for several minutes. At this, he frowned and asked, “do you think about your salvation?” I was starting to lose my patience with his insistence, wanting to get through my shopping list. “No, not really,” I replied. As I started walking away, he asked, “Do you know what hell is like?” I found that to be an amusing question. “Probably,” I said. “Thanks anyways.” And, off I went to shop for eggs. I kept wondering why he approached me, since I wasn’t the only one in the aisle, nor the one closest to him. Although I was the only one without a ring on my finger, a man at my side, and a shopping cart full of kids. When he asked whether I worried about my salvation, I wondered whether there was any point to saying, “Mister, life in the present is hard enough without having to worry about the afterlife.”
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