Jump a Stump

One of the toughest ranch hands was also one of the best preachers I ever met. His name was Wilson and he could cuss, chew tobacco, spit, fight, drink whiskey and play cards with the best of them.

But come Sunday morning after breakfast and while the other hands were doing the chores that normally got pushed to the back while the handling the stock was held as more important, Wilson would “jump a stump,” and start talking about the Gospel. He’d say that we are designed to be in a relationship with our Creator and that our Creator needs us almost as much as we needed him.

I’ve come to understand that God puts us where he wants and needs us and he needed Wilson, an otherwise foul-mouthed, gambling, fist-fighting, tobacco stained, boozer on my Grandpa’s dairy farm, preaching the word of God to men cut from the same cloth.

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