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A grizzled old man observed with trained eyes and alert ears as the novice young man did his best to hold his own at a table filled with experienced, skillful gamblers and crooked card sharks. Needless to say, things were going from bad to worse.
At the end of the long night, the elderly gentleman quietly followed the dejected fellow who now walked with much lighter pockets. He watched as the angry and humbled wannabe used his room key and then slammed his door closed behind him. Noting the room number, the old man shuffled to his own room, sat down at the room’s little desk and began to write.
Young man,
Listen to me. Yes, I know, you don’t know me, and have no reason to trust me. But I am the old man you may have glimpsed sitting quietly in the corner of the room earlier. Watching and listening.
Son, I’ve been watching you. Losing, again and again. How much longer do you think you can keep this up? How long before you lose absolutely everything that is valuable to you?
I’ve been a professional gambler for more years than you can even count. You could say I wrote the book on gambling. There is nothing new at any table that I haven’t already seen. I’ve experienced it all, and I’ve played it all. I’ve already seen every con, scam and every trick there is, from every kind of shady and crooked player.
Young friend, don’t try to take gaming shortcuts that look promising. They don’t work. Sure, they look shiny and great at first, like a sparkling diamond glittering in the sunlight. But shortcuts are fake roads and always end up putting you in the ditch…or worse.
Believe me and take this chance I am offering. Meet me downstairs in the restaurant at noon tomorrow. Don’t worry ‘bout finding me, I’ll find you. And I promise, if you will listen to me, learn what I will teach you, and mimic my methods, you will win.
Your friend,
One Who Knows
The old man folded the note, and sealed it in an envelope. He then slowly and stiffly walked to the room of the foolish young gambler, leaned down with aching joints and slid it under the door. With a tired sigh that was a mixture of hope and a certain amount of resignation, he returned to his own room and fell into bed.
Now, read this story again. Only this time, substitute your Creator God for the grizzled old man in the story. And your own name instead of the foolish young man.
The game? This life that you’re trying to live. The crooked card sharks? The devil and his demons. The shortcuts? Every time you have attempted to play on your own, and lost more than you have ever won. Winning? Here… and in eternity.
A lot of truth can be found in a game of cards.
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