Remember ol’ Gomer Pyle?

Gooooollly. Incredulity, amazement, astonishment, wonder.

That was the expression that came across my mind today as I sat with a patient. An intelligent, 30-something, successful banker. Married with a lovely family. Everything going for him. Enviable, really . . .

You’d never guess the first words out of his mouth . . . “I’m so distressed about my salvation.” Huh? Aren’t you here because you’re having a problem with your energy levels and digestion? When I ask you what’s wrong, you’re supposed to say, “I have no energy,” not “I don’t know if I’m going to heaven!”

He elaborated that though he’s been a Christian for 15+ years, he feels like he’s damned. Hell bound, sliding down the slippery slide to the hot house, unsalvageable, without hope, scumbag material, worthless.

Imagine my flight of fancy: “I’m sitting in front of Freddy Kreuger and he’s just slaughtered my entire office staff before coming in my office!”

Whatever could make this gentleman so pitiful and pathetic?

He’s bought into the big lie.

The Evil One runs around sowing the seed of doubt in everyone he can. And does he ever find fertile ground! Most Americans have such a screwed up understanding of what being a Jesus-follower is all about that they cannot fathom that the God of the Universe loves them so much that He freely offers them unconditional eternal life.

That was the problem with my banker friend.

He just couldn’t believe the truth over the more powerful lie.

Such a shame. Castrated by a lie. Condemned to live a weak, unfulfilled life because of the insidious murmurings of the damned fallen Prince of the Air. The redeemed being led around by the damned.

Not on my watch . . .