The bird and the cat

I went to a customer's house to pick up some parts that were shipped incorrectly. They were in a box on the front porch since no one was home. As I walked to the front door I heard a rustling in the bushes and noticed a cat there. Big gray cat. Pretty one. Then I saw the small bird in front of him. A little finch I think. The cat was just lying there lazily swatting at the bird occasionally. When the bird fluttered the cat would swat again. I grew up with cats. I know their behavior to some extent anyway. Probably no one knows much about a cat, right? They're not like dogs. Dogs wear all their emotions on their sleeve. A dog can't conceal excitement or fear while cats mostly just seem aloof and I think they think they are smarter than us. A dog knows we are the rulers, top of the creation story on earth. God rested after creating humans. Dogs are aware of this and they know their place. They love their place. They live their lives having fun barking at the slightest sound of a UPS truck 15 miles away or chasing squirrels that ALWAYS make it back up the tree to safety. A dog shows unfiltered excitement when you come home from work as if he just won the lottery. A cat is nothing like this. A cat's Bible reads differently. After God made man he mused, "What would it be like if I made a small furry creature with needle-like teeth and claws that always confounds the man and the woman and defecates in a box of dirt near the washing machine?"

This cat looked up at me from the bushes and I reached down for the helpless bird. Gray Cat made no effort to keep or guard his prey. Almost like he was finished and resigned to the fact that this poor creature had no flutter left in him. I picked up Small Bird who made no attempt to fly. He weighed nothing. I thought about some science class years ago when I learned about the hollow bones of birds which are built with these criss-crossing struts to make them stronger even though they're very light. One little claw clung to my finger and the other one didn't move. He studied me with still open eyes while I carried him to a place down the driveway far away from Gray Cat. I found a sheltered place where I hoped he would be safe to recover or unmolested while he died.

I prayed and told God I was embarrassed that I felt this way about a small bird. He knows I feel this way about all animals. If Gray Cat was fighting for his life with a Big Dog or a Hyena I would feel the same way. I asked God if He would help me not get too weird about animals so that I reserve the correct compassion for people; especially those who are more difficult to love. I thought back to a couple Bible scriptures that I always loved:

Romans 8:19-22  The creation waits in eager expectation for the revelation of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not by its own will, but because of the One who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until the present time.

All of creation was subjected to death because of Adam's sin in Genesis chapter 3. I see no death of any creature in God's creation until God made clothing out of animal skins for Adam and Eve AFTER they rebelled against God. Now all of creation is groaning and waiting until that final day when God makes all things right and hunting and death is no more. Then there is this joyous picture:

Isaiah 11:6-9  And the wolf will dwell with the lamb, 

And the leopard will lie down with the young goat,

And the calf and the young lion and the fattened calf together;

And a little boy will lead them.

Also the cow and the bear will graze,
Their young will lie down together,

And the lion will eat straw like the ox.

The nursing child will play by the hole of the cobra,
And the weaned child will put his hand on the viper’s den.

They will not hurt or destroy in all My holy mountain,
For the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD
As the waters cover the sea.

A little boy will lead a lion and a calf. A hunter and it's prey will no longer be wired to kill or flee. I've seen paintings of a wolf lying down in a pleasant sunny meadow with a lamb snuggling next to him. A small child will be playing around a cobra and will have no worry. His parents probably standing by and smiling. The new creation. All of the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord. It's stunning to me that knowing Him brings a re-creation like this. Knowing Him brings order and peace.

I set the bird down and walk away. I groan too. 

Worship

The smell of sweet perfume filled the room. They were sitting next to each other, Lazarus and Jesus. Lazarus' eyes slowly filled with tears as he watched his sister caressing Jesus' feet while she poured more of that perfume on them and wiped his feet with her hair. The room was heavy; heavy like everyone was watching something very private and very awesome. For a fleeting second Lazarus thought of that most holy place. That place in the temple beyond the veil. That place he could never see, only the high priest could go in there once a year. Why did he suddenly think of the holy of holies now, he wondered? It was odd and unthinkable but it seemed their little dining room was that very place... right now. Even Martha, busy Martha who always bustled about making sure everyone's cup was full, she was even sitting now watching this scene unfold.

Worship! That's why he thought of the holy of holies! This was worship! His sister was ministering to the Messiah now and they were all watching. They were all participating with her somehow. Could it be?

Suddenly, like the grating sound of a startled dog barking, somebody broke the silence, the beautiful moment of worship. One of the twelve men who had come to dinner with Jesus said, "Why was this ointment not sold for 300 denarii and the money given to the poor?" The moment of worship, that beautiful time of love and Lazarus' come-out-of-nowhere thoughts about the holy of holies all but evaporated. It felt like he had been rudely shaken from a sweet sleep. The question hung in the air.

Lazarus thought back to all those times he had been in the crowd with Jesus and his twelve disciples. Jesus always taught and told stories. Stories which could make you feel at one moment thrilled with joy and the next naked, exposed and ashamed. Yet he always hung on every word. So did everyone else. Even in those shameful moments he always wanted...needed to hear more. There was an undercurrent of hope in everything he said. But always someone would ask him a prickly question. It was usually one of the intelligent ones, like the leaders. Now it was one of his own followers.

Lazarus studied the face of the man who asked the question. He couldn't keep all of their names straight. He thought this one was called Judas. Often it was Peter who came out with stupid remarks - things Lazarus may have thought but would never say. This question from Judas though, this one was painful.

Lazarus looked at Jesus. His eyes were still on Mary. He looked sad. Mary's head was turned and Lazarus couldn't see his sister's eyes yet he felt embarrassed for her. He supposed Judas was right. It would have been wiser to do as he proposed. So many poor....so many needs. And Jesus was always helping them. Yes, it would have been better to sell the expensive ointment and help the poor.

Lazarus looked back at Jesus just as he raised his eyes to address Judas. Briefly, only for a second, Lazarus caught a flash of something strange in Jesus' eyes. Was it anger? Jesus spoke softly but strongly, "Leave her alone. She intended to keep this for the day of my burial." Burial? What does this mean? Will Jesus die? Will the very one who raised him from death and decay lay in a grave? Wait...he was still speaking. "The poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me."

Fear crept into Lazarus' heart as he thought about these words. He suddenly knew Jesus would indeed die and he felt like it might be soon. That's why the sadness and this talk about burial. But his friend didn't seem fearful as he looked down again at Mary. A tender smile appeared on Jesus' lips. Here it was again. That sense of worship, all of them in the holiest of places, awestruck before the mercy seat. Lazarus no longer concerned himself with where his thoughts were coming from. He closed his eyes and worshiped, drinking in this sweet moment.

After awhile he glanced at his friend again and now Jesus looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. What might be going through Jesus' mind right now? Lazarus glanced at John, on the other side of Jesus, and watched him move closer. Slowly John's head fell until it rested on Jesus' shoulder. Lazarus did the same. He looked around and glimpsed Peter pacing the room, Martha was openly sobbing and most of the others' eyes were filled with tears. Lazarus felt confusion about Jesus' words but he no longer felt fear. It was gone and in it's place he felt a weighty and deep peace. He knew, as daring as it was to think this way, that he was in the presence of God. And he would worship him forever. Come what may and regardless of the cost he was safe with his Lord whom he loved.

"Look to Me"

I always love to hear how Charles Spurgeon first came to believe:

“I sometimes think I might have been in darkness and despair until now, had
it not been for the goodness of God in sending a snowstorm one Sunday
morning while I was going to a certain place of worship. When I could go no
further, I turned down a side street, and came to a little Primitive Methodist
Chapel. In that chapel there may have been a dozen or fifteen people. I had
heard of the Primitive Methodists, how they sang so loudly that they made
people's heads ache; but that did not matter to me. I wanted to know how I
might be saved, and if they could tell me that, I did not care how much they
made my head ache.

The minister did not come that morning; he was snowed
up, I suppose. At last, a very thin-looking man, a shoemaker, or tailor, or
something of that sort, went up into the pulpit to preach. Now, it is well that
preachers should be instructed; but this man was really stupid. He was
obliged to stick to his text, for the simple reason that he had little else to say.

The text was,

"LOOK UNTO ME, AND BE YE SAVED, ALL THE ENDS OF THE

EARTH."

He did not even pronounce the words rightly, but that did not matter. There

was, I thought, a glimpse of hope for me in that text. The preacher began
thus—"My dear friends, this is a very simple text indeed. It says, 'Look.' Now
lookin' don't take a deal of pains. It ain't liftin' your foot or your finger; it is
just, 'Look.' Well, a man needn't go to College to learn to look. You may be
the biggest fool, and yet you can look. A man needn't be worth a thousand a
year to be able to look. Anyone can look; even a child can look.

But then the text says, 'Look unto Me.' Ay!" said he in broad Essex, "many of you are
lookin' to yourselves, but it's no use lookin' there. You'll never find any
comfort in yourselves. Some look to God the Father. No, look to Him by-andby.
Jesus Christ says, 'Look unto Me.' Some of you say, 'We must wait for the
Spirit's workin.' You have no business with that just now. Look to Christ. The
text says, 'Look unto Me.'

Then the good man followed up his text in this way:
"Look unto Me; I am sweatin' great drops of blood. Look unto Me; I am
hangin' on the cross. Look unto Me; I am dead and buried. Look unto Me; I
rise again. Look unto Me; I ascend to Heaven. Look unto Me; I am sittin' at
the Father's right hand. O poor sinner, look unto Me! Look unto Me!” When he
had gone to about that length, and managed to spin out ten minutes or so, he
was at the end of his tether.

Then he looked at me under the gallery, and I daresay, with so few present, he knew me to be a stranger. Just fixing his eyes on me, as if he knew all my heart, he said, "Young man, you look very miserable." Well, I did; but I had not been accustomed to have remarks made
from the pulpit on my personal appearance before. However, it was a good
blow, struck right home. He continued, "And you always will be miserable—
miserable in life, and miserable in death,—if you don't obey my text; but if
you obey now, this moment, you will be saved." Then, lifting up his hands, he
shouted, as only a Primitive Methodist could do, "Young man, look to Jesus
Christ. Look! Look! Look! You have nothin' to do but to look and live."

Spurgeon said, “I saw at once the way of salvation. I know not what else he

said —I did not take much notice of it —I was so possessed with that one
thought. Like as when the brazen serpent was lifted up, the people only
looked and were healed, so it was with me. I had been waiting to do fifty
things, but when I heard that word, "Look!" what a charming word it seemed
to me! Oh! I looked until I could almost have looked my eyes away. There
and then the cloud was gone, the darkness had rolled away, and that moment
I saw the sun; and I could have risen that instant, and sung with the most
enthusiastic of them, of the precious blood of Christ, and the simple faith
which looks alone to Him. Oh, that somebody had told me this before, "Trust
Christ, and you shall be saved." Yet it was, no doubt, all wisely ordered, and
now I can say,—

‘Ever since by faith I saw the stream, Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming

love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.’”

Your Heart Will Break with Joy and You Will Never Leave My Side

"Why oh why, rebellious sheep, do you turn away from me? Why are you dismayed? You see me moving among the ewes and lambs. Among your siblings you see me walking, giving them pastures, watching for predators, healing their wounds and saving them. But you don't notice my hand tenderly petting your head. You don't see my delight in you. You have grown and your eyes are bright. Your belly is full because of my gentle care.

"Listen to your brothers and give heed to the voice of your sisters. They see my hand on your head and detect my pride. They remember my delight when I chose you from the wicked sheep herder who cared not for his flock. They remember your small frame. Let them recount my labor as I nursed you to health. Hear their tales of my rod, deftly flung and striking the wolf who was poised to pounce on you. Oh weak, struggling creature! Always a prey for the claws of the bear and teeth of the lion.

"Hear their words and see my love. Whom do you suppose poured oil on your head to save you from the flies? Do you believe your own senses led you to clean brooks for drink? When you became fat and were helplessly cast on your back, your hind legs scraping the air and finding no tread, who picked you up? And, when the others passed under my rod while I carefully counted and I found you missing, who searched frantically for you; my brow creased in anguish until I saw you in the distance. Straying further and eating all the more you were oblivious to the danger. Whom do you suppose picked you up and returned you to the fold?

"One day, maybe soon, you will hear of me from the others. One day you will suddenly feel my hand caressing your mane. 'What is that sensation?' you will wonder. Then you will look up, your eyes will meet mine. You will know that I have loved you with an everlasting love. Your heart will break with joy and you will never leave my side."

Radio Flyers, Dogs, and Pack Mules

Trudie and I went for a walk when I got home from work this evening. It seemed like it was 100 degrees but she was excited when I said "walk". Mostly I spell the word "walk" around her. (Dog owners will understand this.)

I used to think summer in Alabama was the hottest and most humid place in the world. Indeed it may be the the hottest and most humid place in the United States. I've lived in Florida and Alabama is hotter. In Florida you can sweat with anticipation. There's always a beach nearby somewhere. Not so in Alabama. But Hanoi is like summer in Alabama times 3. I was there in June. My buddy Chad and I drank iced coffee almost every day in a little roadside shop (they're all roadside shops on the streets of Hanoi) and we were dripping. I've heard people talk about Venezuela and parts of Mexico and how they shower and leave the hotel and they're sweating before they walk 25 feet. It's like that in Vietnam. You never feel, let's see.... how can I put this.... fresh. You never feel fresh and clean.

So I'm walking along tonight and I see a young dad from my neighborhood pulling his son in a little Radio Flyer wagon. I haven't seen one of those in years. The picture would've been Norman Rockwellian if it hadn't been for the cell phone. I know you've seen it. Mom pushing a stroller or dad in the yard with the kids and all the while they're on a telephone call. This cannot count for quality time. I mean, it's probably like negative quality time. For every 1/2 hour you spend with the kids on a cell phone you have to make it up double. Only for that make up hour you must give your children 100% of your undivided attention. No cell, no smart phone downloading email and no texting. It crossed my mind that in this case dad could have just hooked up a pack mule or an obedient dog to the wagon and accomplished the same result. Oh.... except dad wouldn't have gotten his exercise. Maybe he was really out there for exercise.

Perhaps I'm being a little harsh. I looked at the kid. He was playing with something in the wagon. He was otherwise occupied. He was probably only 2 years old and I wondered if he knew Dad was otherwise occupied. I wonder if he thought it'd be cool to have a mule or a dog pulling his little wagon.

Trudie and I walked our normal route. It's neat how a dog knows when to turn. They are truly creatures of habit. We turned on 43rd Street and walked up to 7th Avenue. Another left and there's dad and son again. He's still on the telephone. This time I hollered to him, "Dude, that's your son in the wagon and he's going to remember how you didn't pay any attention to him! How you couldn't finish work long enough to pull his Radio Flyer and talk with him about his day. He may have seen monsters in his closet and under his bed and you don't even know it! He may want to share his amazement with you about a caterpillar or a bird he saw singing outside his window. Hang up the phone neighbor! You're missing it."

Except I didn't really say that. I walked on and waved at them thinking about wagons, dogs and pack mules.

Sweet Discipline

God disciplined Moses. It was hard. Moses pleaded with God in Deuteronomy 3:25, "Please let me go over and see the good land." After all it had been a tough road to travel. For all their time together the children of Israel turned away from God at the drop of a hat and it seemed Moses was always interceding. Moses had just declared to God, "You have only begun to show your servant your greatness and Your mighty hand." I picture a child imploring with all persistence, "Please Father, please!"

How does God respond? "Enough from you; do not speak to me of this matter again." Wow.... what are we to make of that? I've seen God as harsh in this text before. I mean really, all Moses did was strike the rock instead of speaking to it (Numbers 20:10-12). He had just recently lost his sister too. Cannot a little latitude be given to a grieving brother? But now I strangely see an intimacy in God's words here. Like a parent who needs to be a little stern, "enough about this now.... I don't want to hear any more about it." As if to say, "I know what is best, you don't."

We don't always get what we want.

Fast forward to the end of Deuteronomy. God again reminds Moses what his sin cost him (Deuteronomy 32:48-52). Moses gives Israel their final blessing and Moses climbs Mount Nebo to die. God tells him to climb the mountain and look across at the land and then die up on the mountain.

Now picture Moses in chapter 34. He's up on the mountain, alone there with God. They had spent so many glorious days together; at the giving of the law on Mt. Sinai, all those times in the tent of meeting, even at the burning bush where Moses first met YHWH. Now again he's on top of a mountain alone with his Father. Maybe God was smiling as He and Moses looked out across the land. Maybe they were both smiling when child and Father surveyed the green valleys, the shimmering brooks and the mountaintops in the distance. Maybe God parted the mist with His hand for a moment and said with pride, "Moses, this is the land of which I swore to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, 'I will give to your offspring.' "

"Now Moses, lay down over here by this tree in the shade and die. Lay down and be gathered to your people." Maybe God softly spoke while Moses drifted off to sleep. Maybe He said something like this....

"Moses, you will see greater things than real estate. You will again stand on a mountain. You will see Me, like you always wanted to, but you will see God in flesh. You will see my very son Moses! You will look into his human eyes, and see his face. You will stand on that mountain with another prophet, another one who faithfully spoke my words to an obstinate people. You both will stand there looking at My son and you will talk to him. His face is going to shine like the sun and his clothes will become white as the light. You will remember the glow you yourself experienced Moses. You will recall how your countenance changed. It was so bright the children of Israel couldn't look at you."

"But this will be more... so much more. This will be my lamb Moses. My spotless one. My only son. One upon whom I will pour unspeakable horror. He will buy the people Moses! He will redeem for me a people from every tribe, every tongue, every nation. Their hearts will finally be circumcised Moses. I will pour My Spirit into them and they will love me. They will love My son and walk in my ways because I will pour My Spirit into them and cause them to be born anew."

"Yes Moses, I do know what is best. You do not understand all these things now my child. Go ahead and look at this land but don't be sad or dismayed. You will indeed see it again on that day. Sleep now.... sleep."

Dogs

Who can make a dog? Really, aren't they the most awesome creatures? Think about it. There are all kinds of animals that serve a purpose in the grand design of life but what about the dear old dog? A dog isn't vital to the food chain (well, at least not in most countries), he doesn't build anything or dam up a river or catch small rodents for the most part. My terrier Trudie caught a squirrel once but I think the squirrel was on his cell phone texting or otherwise distracted because that just doesn't happen as a rule. Most dogs I know of have no purposeful daily function. They're like really great little kids that don't talk, misbehave only occasionally and are hairy.

Not too long ago I used to consider my beloved aunt and uncle and think them a little misguided. Their children were grown and they had these two dogs and a home and this huge bus in which they would travel the country. They treated their little dachshunds as if they were children. They verbally expressed their love to the dogs in embarrassingly ridiculous language. One of their beloved weenie dogs was somehow injured, paralyzed I think, and they had an intricate little wheelchair-like cart for him. They would harness him into this when they took him for a walk. It was like a little doggie rickshaw but instead of carrying paying customers it carried his hind quarters. I remember squelching laughter the first time I saw this. Are you serious? It's a dog for crying out loud.

Then I married into a dog family. I came from cats. Mom always had cats and they were kind of cool. They were aloof and complex. They didn't really require much attention and always seemed to be up to something sinister. I liked to bother them until they flipped on their backs and did that hind leg kick-scratching thing. I always came away a little bloody but that didn't stop me from doing it. A little masochistic now that I think about it.

But then I married into dogs. Immediately I spotted that same devoted parental behaviour I saw in my aunt and uncle. One time my mother-in-law's dachshund (oddly enough another weenie dog) wandered off and there was full scale panic until she returned home. Another time my wife's schnauzer developed what turned out to be a harmless fatty tumor and it brought her to tears. What's up? I remember thinking. It's a dog for crying out loud.

The trick is you can't look into their eyes. Once you start looking, really looking deep into their eyes, you're hooked. My wife had Mattie the schnauzer a couple years before I came into the picture. I remember petting the dog one time and she looked up at me with those big brown eyes that said, "I tolerated you for awhile but now that I see you're going to hang around I guess I'll let you love me". Before she looked away I was hooked.

Now I live alone again.... except for Trudie. I really hope I'm not weird. I hope I don't dote on her like my aunt and uncle did their dogs but I'm afraid I do. I know she's just a dog and I don't ever want to become one of those mentally unbalanced souls that can't relate to humans because they shower all of their waking attention and affection on an animal. I don't want to cross that line. What amazes me and fills me with inspiration though is a Creator who can fashion a creature whose sole purpose seems to be to make me happy. I've never seen such excitement register in such a little hairy body as Trudie's when I come home from work! She is devoted to me completely. She may not be able to kick-scratch but she lives to fetch and play Frisbee! When I lay back in my recliner and she cuddles up in my lap I drift off to sleep and all is right with the world.

Just don't look long into their eyes. You will be hooked.