Luther once said that an idol is that which you would sacrifice your child for.

"That's my final answer, Jessie. I don't want any more discussion on this thing." Jessica's father was staring at her with such resolution that she was beginning to believe it was useless.

"Dad, you're being unreasonable. Think of the good that could come . . ."

"Reasonable!!?? Reasonable!!!!???? Jessica this has nothing to do with reason. It has to do with what I cherish! My little girl! You're asking me to give you permission to put yourself in the jaws of death on a daily basis. And every day I’ ll live in the fear that those jaws will snap shut …. leaving me without you.”

This was yet another version of the same conversation Jessica had been having with her father for weeks. She had been given the opportunity to proclaim the Kingdom to a people who lived in the midst of continual despair. Jessica's church was locating 25 parishioners of various ages and backgrounds in a communal living environment. If that were all that was involved, her father probably wouldn't have blinked an eye. The rub was that this community would be located at the corner of 25th and Blaten Blvd. The surrounding 10-block area was a world alive with poverty and violence. Their church's goal was to establish an oasis of peace and hope for the people that lived there. An island of Shalom in their despair. They would offer these people a chance to come home to their God.

Jessica looked at her father with a weary sadness. "But Dad, what is Christ to us? He has brought us home. He has saved us. We have hope. Don't we want those people to know what our God’s doing in his world?"

"Jessie, you're my only daughter. Nothing I know of is worth the thought of losing you. I'm sure God understands that." Jessica's father took her face in his hand and gently kissed her forehead. Then, sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned and walked into the kitchen. Jessica sat down slowly at the dining room table. She could hear the crackle of ice as her father poured himself a glass of soda. She thought again of what it must be like to live in despair. Her father picked up his glass of soda and headed for the den.

****************************************

Jeffrey sat in the naugahide recliner in the corner of the den. He tried again to block the picture from his mind. His stomach tightened with anxiety. He was becoming weary from the nights of lying in bed, contemplating what it would be like. Ever since he was young, Jeffery had feared that one of our country’ s overseas conflicts would arise in the years he was eligible for military service. Unfortunately, this had developed into one of those famous self-fulfilling prophecies. The more anxious and fearful he became, the more skirmishes our nation seemed to engage in. The most recent conflict had moved our country to the point of instituting the draft. At eighteen, Jeffrey got his "come help Uncle Sam letter" in the early rounds of the draw. He had been an angst-filled mess ever since. Unfortunately, he couldn't even talk to Jessica about it. She had her own disappointments with Dad nixing her chance to live in the church community over on Blaten Blvd.

Jeffrey leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, trying to calm his nerves. Dad appeared at the door of the den. "Hey Jeff, let's see if there's a ballgame on." “Yeah, right Dad,“ he thought. I'll see how much more gray hair Jordan has this week. It'll be just like any other day except it'll put me one day closer to ducking enemy fire in the streets of a foreign country. And if I die over there, I'll be content knowing that I spent one of my last afternoons watching a middle aged millionaire make his third comeback. Jeffrey's father picked up on the unease in his son’ s eyes. "Jeff, are you still worrying about this war thing? Son, you know, I really do mean it when I say I understand. In the weeks before I went to Vietnam, I was pretty nervous myself. I knew there was a chance I wouldn't come back. And that was very sobering to me. I was a young man. A young man looking forward to all I could make of a life here in our country. But that's exactly what kept me on track throughout my service time. I knew that we were fighting for something that at the bottom line would define and shape the life I would live here in our homeland. And not just my life, but the life of all Americans. For the present generation and those who would follow us. There is no cost too great to maintain the freedom our forefathers secured for us. Jeff, you know I'll support you in any way I can as you go through this great work. I'll always be praying that God will go before you, protecting this great freedom that He has given us. I love you kids, Jeff. I want you to have all the opportunity I've had as a member of this nation. Opportunity. It's the gift we've been given."

With his speech ended, Jeffrey's dad slapped him on the knee and punched the power button of the TV remote. The pain in Jeffrey's eyes never changed. His father's talk bounced off his fears and was lost. Jeffrey watched the basketball game with those same pained eyes. A thought repeatedly ran through his mind. "Is watching a man make his umpteenth million dollar playing basketball opportunity worth dying for?"