My friend sits on an ash heap. He has been there for a long time. His life has been hard. He is not happy on the ash heap. However, one could surmise there's a level of comfort in the familiarity. Nevertheless, my friend yearns for green pastures, still waters, peaceful meadows.

My friend talks a lot about his misery and misfortune. I listen to my friend. I don't say much. I have shared the Gospel with him several times. I answer his questions. I bought him a nice Bible. I pray for him daily. I point out the only Way to the pastures, waters and meadows he is desperate to find. I ask him to come with me. But in the end, he never leaves the ash heap.

My friend rails against the rich and their silver spoons. He spits envious venom towards those who have life easy. He irritably refuses to take a step on the only road to the peace he longs for. There must be other ways he insists from his perpetual station in the ashes.

My friend quotes some philosopher or such who said, "Man lives in hope and dies in despair." He likes that notion. One problem is my friend lives this tribute to cynicism backwards. He lives in despair, but has a-just-maybe hope in death. My friend hopes the cosmic scale will tip in his favor and the balance owed him will be paid post-life.

My friend doesn't have eyes to see or ears to hear of the salvation, joy and peace offered to him in Jesus Christ. These wonderful gifts bounce off a hardened heart and disappear into the ashes. O that he would cry out as did another from the ash heap: "For I know that my Redeemer lives, and He shall stand at last on the earth." (Job 19:25) Or echo the words of yet another, "We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed." (II Cor 4:8-9)

My friend sits on an ash heap. He has been there for a long time.