When I worked as a screen extra in the movies, one of the people with whom I was paired in the dining scenes was a man named Arthur. No one, including me, wanted to be around him. For one thing, Arthur had a foul mouth. He used it to complain and mutter obscenities and to fire off wisecracks under his breath.
And speaking of his breath—well, let’s just say you wouldn’t want to light a match within a foot of it. The smell of alcohol was a clue to the level of volatility. Then there was his attitude—it wasn’t pretty either.
In a word, Arthur was impossible. No wonder I prayed one morning, as I pulled into the studio lot, “Lord, save me from Arthur!”
That morning there was a commotion inside the studio hanger. A group of actors was gathered around a clean-shaven young man who was talking excitedly. At first glance, he didn’t look familiar.
But when I stepped closer, I could hardly believe my eyes. It was Arthur! He looked as if the makeup and hair department had grabbed him and put him in one of those “body casts”—the kind that transforms its occupant into a whole new person.
“I’m telling you,” he said, gesturing enthusiastically, “Jesus came into my life this weekend! I’m a new man!”
The crowd listened. Some, who were obviously Christian, rejoiced with “Amen!”
My heart rushed with the tingly warmth of excitement that comes from a fresh awareness of God’s handiwork. Arthur had gotten saved over the weekend! I wondered who had been the instrument in his salvation.
But then another question came to mind. Who had not been a witness to Arthur? I didn’t recall that any of us had ever shared Jesus with him.
Why not? Had Arthur looked that impossible to us? Obviously, this weekend, someone had seen him through the eyes of God—beyond his “impossible” human state—and had reached him with the love of Jesus.
I was reminded of the commission Jesus had given His followers: “‘Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations'” (Matt. 28:19, NKJV). He was issuing not only a mandate but also a promise to every believer. The mandate for us to “go” was the means to carry out God’s plan to bring souls into the kingdom. The promise, stated in verse 20, was the assurance that as we obeyed, Jesus would be with us, even to the end of the age.
Jesus came to save the lost (see Matt. 18:11). He died for you and me and all the Arthurs of this world. If we ignore the unsaved people around us, writing them off as impossible, are we not also ignoring the mandate of Jesus and His very purpose for dying on the cross?
Arthur taught me something: There is no such thing as an impossible case. Jesus can reach anyone. However, He needs a willing vessel, a witness of His love.
Today, I challenge you to be that vessel. I invite you to join me in my attempt to reach the Arthurs of this world—those who seem unapproachable, lost and impossible. Instead of praying, “Lord, save me from Arthur,” let’s pray instead, “Lord, save Arthur.” Then, with a willing and loving heart, let’s get ready to share the love of Jesus—and watch all of heaven rejoice over those who are saved.