It's Murder Out There
This twelfth chapter is pretty negative. It talks of murder and pain and violence. McManus is a happy city dweller. When they finally got a home in the LA area, they had a pool that was adopted by some local ducks. Soon the ducks had a nest and lots of baby ducks lived nearby. The situation turned into a nightmare, however, as the McManus family helplessly watched each of the baby ducks get picked off by predators. One time he saw a crow swoop down and snatch a baby duck -- even against the efforts of mama duck. This was too much for McManus to bear, he reveals.
I bet he cried.
One night he was awakened by a quack, which he surely knew was another baby duck getting snatched away to a certain death by eating. It was at this alarming moment that McManus felt an encounter with God. It was probably a thought in his mind, like a conversation with God. The Lord revealed to him that this feeling he was having is how God feels about every human on earth. How He cares for them and guards them and grieves when bad things happen to them.
This chance encounter touched McManus. I can relate to such an encounter. Like the duck scenerio, it was an odd context that a "conversation" happened. I've talked about this one before in this blog. I was having a conversation with God in my head, as if we were communicating telepathicallly. I was voicing my opinion of not wanting to pick out a fat woman for a wife ... as if I couldn't love a fat woman. I don't form any theology out of this next statement about the form of God, but I remember hearing almost a broken voice shouting, "I'm fat! Does that mean you don't love Me?" It was one of those stop-everything moments where the thought pounded me like a 16-ton weight against my chest.
I should not let superficial opinions or perspectives (which are all relative, anyway) dictate how I feel or perceive another person's worth. If I gained nothing else from the "conversation," I at least felt the pain of rejection that a person deemed fat, ugly or unwanted must sometimes feel. That is not the kind of pain I'd like to inflict on anyone.
This chapter is like a love song written to the victims of predators out there. The children kidnapped into a life of prostitution; the child molested by a formerly trusted adult. The love that one person feels towards others makes them want to protect them from predators. When people talk about peace and love, I believe that's the Word from God to the responsible and healthy person. It's like telling the strong person, "Take care of the weaker ones. Look after them. Help them." To show humility and peace and gentleness, it often is a possibility or a choice to and from the person with strength. To be peaceful is like a command or teaching or suggestion or choice to the person of strength. The weaker person has no choice sometimes but to submit to the stronger person attacking them. The strong person, however -- the one operating out of health -- has a choice. They can submit, offer humility and extend peace and love.
One overlooked item in all of this is the protective nature. I think using violence against a predator is okay. I think it's warranted. The person of strength should be peaceful. But if that person has an opportunity to prevent an injustice or a predator's attack to a smaller one and can step in using whatever force is necessary (including violence), I say "do it." There is evil in this world. Opposing it sometimes takes extraordinary courage, strength, and effort.
I think the protective mother instinct we see in nature is God-given, and I think it's appropriate for the person who loves to feel and sense that. But that's just my opinion.
Posted by Doug Van Pelt at August 21, 2007 12:17 PM