Just the other day a man drove out to the Embassy and pretended to be a patriot with a legal problem. The truth is he was a detective working for the federal government attempting to serve legal papers on my former self - the old man. When he arrived, I was hot and sweaty from thrashing blackberry bushes. When I do hard physical labor, my mind gets busy thinking about the Kingdom. I was primed up with the Word as I greeted the detective.
"I've got this legal problem I thought you could help me with," begins the detective as he pulls out a bundle of papers. "I have these papers to serve. I already know the man has 'died,' but you are the one I need to give them to."
"What for?" I say. "There is no one here to receive them. He has died. He belonged to you; you bury him."
Finally, the detective agrees to keep the papers and turns around and heads out. The car heads up the canyon. Out of the window flies the bundle of papers. I hop quickly in my car and charge up the hill. At a clearing in the road, I swing around in front of him; he stops suddenly. I get out and calmly walk over to him and ask, "Why are you littering at the Embassy of Heaven?"
The man is full of excuses but is persuaded to drive back down the canyon and pick up the papers. I ask him, "How can you possibly call yourself a Christian when I have already caught you in several lies? Don't you know Satan is the father of lies? You certainly have a strange profession - dropping off poisoned apples on people's doorsteps. How can that possibly be loving your neighbor? I highly recommend you find yourself another occupation."
This cool man, who says he's been a detective for 30 years, is now shaking like a leaf, really scared.
"You take back a message to the federal government," I say, handing him a couple ambassador calling cards. "You tell them I'm not a federal child. If they think they have business with Paul Revere, tell them to come in person. I don't want a go-between like you. Now, go back to your master. You'll still get your money, even though you were unable to serve a dead man."
He likes the thought of getting paid, making it obvious that money is the god he serves. I unblock the road and escort him out. . . .
24No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.