Monday, July 11, 2022
But he said to me, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9
Snakes by Jim Ladrini
Reading scripture, devotional and another book that was recently shared with me, my journal entry today took me back some years.
I was raised in Alaska. A very small town at the end of the Kenai Peninsula. Homer. There were no snakes in Homer. There were no snakes in Alaska for that matter!
But I was a kid. What did I know about snakes? We weren't taught about snakes because there were none.
At twelve years old how was I to recognize a snake? I'd only seen them in a book, or in a cartoon.
Did I pick up the snake? How could I know? I didn't recognize it, couldn't identify it. But I didn't pick up the snake. The snake wrapped its coil up around me.
The action of a snake initiated what would become a tighter coil around me as time progressed. It wasn't a bite that made me suddenly sick. It was deceit that went undetected by a community and a child, children I now know that couldn't expose the deceit because the snake didn't look like a snake. It didn't show its rattles or fangs. He was welcomed, respected, and trusted.
Snakes aren't always seen, and if they are they may not be recognized. So then, how do you survive a snake bite? How do you avoid the coil wrapping silently, softly and slowly around you? How do you ask for help when you don't know it's needed?
Sometimes I think I would have preferred a different path for my life. Then I look around today and thank God he brought me right where he needs me. Now I get to do my part with the gifts he gave me.
I've been snake bit too many times to count. But the bites didn't hurt near as much as that first interaction with a snake. The one that was venomous without showing fangs. The one that wasn't coiled up but the one that was so deceitful. Nearing sixty now, I still wrestle with that one. That too though, even as it put other events in motion, is part of my story. Part of my witness. Part of my testimony.
This story isn't about me. This story is about God. This story is about others. I've learned, perhaps am still learning, this story is about others. This story is about those made in His image.
He is wonderful. He is gracious. He is compassionate.
