It was about 5 in the morning.  I was flying out of the Houston airport.  I had just turned the rental car in. It was like a graveyard.  No one anywhere, walking or driving.  I was sleepy and tired and on my way home to Seattle.  I got on the shuttle, went to the back seat to avoid conversation with the driver who looked a bit weird through my unfocused bleary eyes.

He got in and we started toward the airport.  I was the only passenger. That is when it happened.

He looked at me in the rear view mirror steadily until I acknowledged his stare. I thought he wanted to know what airline I was using.  As I tried to focus on his small image in the mirror, he said it.

He meant it.

It was not a joke.

Shivers ran down my spine.

I thought, uh oh, I am in this van with a nut!  Very loud and with absolute conviction, almost like a challenge, he said…

“ELVIS IS ALIVE”!

I froze! If I laughed he might shoot me.  If I ignored him, he might go crazy.

I will tell you one thing, I was no longer sleepy!  I was wide awake.  In a millisecond I decided the safest way to navigate these dangerous waters.  I decided to act like he was perfectly normal and everyone knew good old Elvis was alive.

I said, “How do you know?”

When he spoke there were now shivers on my shivers.

His piercing stare looked at me and he said, “Because I have seen him”.

Well, about this time, I am desperate.  Can I jump out of a moving shuttle before he tackles me?  Is there an emergency cord I can pull?  Should I fake a heart attack? Maybe tell him Elvis is my first cousin to win him over?

So wanting to laugh at this incredibly absurd situation I am in with this nutcase, half scared, I replied, “How does he look”?

I am not sure what happened in his mind, or what was left of his mind, but he stared straight ahead without any more utterances or sounds.

When we got to my terminal, he placed my suitcase on the ground and stepped back.

It was then the “Martyn Ballestero Syndrome” kicked in my devious brain toward this lunatic who had robbed me of some valued sleep and scared me pretty bad.

I looked into his glazed eyes and said, “Elvis is my cousin.  Tell him you met his cousin Ken, and say hello for me”.

I turned and walked off.  After about 30 steps or so, I looked back.  He was frozen in stupefied awe and adoration to know he had met Elvis’ cousin.  That is the last I ever saw him.

I try not to rent cars in Houston.

I hate to disappoint the Elvis fans out there, but honestly, Elvis died and was buried.  Just like every other mortal man who has ever lived.  Just like Budda and Confucius and Mohammed.  Just like every politician, leader, guru, shaman, and great man.

But there is one….one who died, but didn’t stay dead!

He got up!

After three days He rose from the dead, made His bed, and left the door open so the whole world would know that He got up and left!

His name is Jesus, and I actually do know Him!

If you have never met Him, He would like me to introduce you to Him.

He told me to let you know that tomorrow somewhere near you will be a church.

He will be there and would like to meet you personally.

Thanks for reading today!

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