You Are Most Definitely a Winner

            This week my hair stands up with excitement and my split ends join together in quiet celebration. Put on your Sunday best while I tell you . . . drum roll, please . . . I was notified through the mail (please control your emotions) that I have been pre-approved to be admitted into a correspondence school to become a pet groomer, something to fall back on when this minister gig quits on me.
            At this point, there should be paws for reflection. I am stupefied. I am speechless. I didn’t even know I had filled out an application form and I certainly didn’t know that I could learn how to cut dog hair through the mail. I can’t wait to try it out on one of my Chihuahuas. My usual idea of pet grooming is to rinse her off in the sink, although I did try to brush her hair one time with Beverly holding her down. All she did was snarl . . . and the dog was none too pleased either.
            A word of caution at this point in the story. There is no foolproof method of approaching a snarling Chihuahua. Come to think of it, there really is no foolproof method for approaching a snarling wife either. Back to the grooming. When it comes time to dry her off, I just raise her up in my hand like the Olympic torch and run around the yard until she dries. This was the main reason we traded our Labrador Retriever for a Chihuahua.
            Several years ago I received another exciting letter in the mail. It seems a national magazine had carefully checked their records, through a supersubatomic audit, and  confirmed that my family had never won a major prize in their sweepstakes. They were  concerned. So was I. I could feel their pain as pity and concern began oozing out of their personal letter addressed to “Marlin K. Bladd.”
            They even wanted to give me two chances to win. More oozing. I was all set to order a really neat CD collection, “Snoop Dog Bug Zapper Rapper D Sings the Love Songs of Eddie Arnold,” when I got out my magnifying glass to read the little bitty print at the bottom of the back page of the letter. Remember those? My chances of winning were eighty duhzillion to one and I had to buy 437 CD’s over the next fifty-two years. I was beyond concerned. I was devastated. I was bloated. It was another bubble burst for the Bladd family.
            I could not help reading those letters without thinking of some familiar words from the Bible. John 3:16 says, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (ESV). Talk about your ultimate pre-approval! The notification was much more than a letter. It came in the form of a baby, sent special delivery to an unreceptive world.
            In the Sweepstakes of Life God freely sends his gift of love to everyone. We are to deliver the message. He pre-approved his love for us just as we are, no strings attached. Hate the sin –love the sinner. Too many times in our efforts to explain God’s offer we try to make exceptions. There is only one problem with that approach. In God’s offer there is no fine print.