There was once an imperfect man who loved. He loved because it was lovable. It had purpose. It was such a great thing. It came at a time. And there you have it. It was amazing. So much good came.
Well kind of …
As time went on, the man would be invited to what he thought was safe, but when he placed his hand in the safe place, it was not safe. It would bite the man. It would not only bite, but would wildly shake the hand of the man and damage the man’s hand badly.
Time would go on. The hand would heal, but it was scared. The man though, did not seem to care. He kept loving it anyway. It was lovable. It had purpose.
Time passed. Life was good. Enjoyable. Hopeful. Those in the house observed and were blessed. Even the neighbors observed and joined in. Amazing. Greatest time.
But then … oh my … it happened … again …
The man was invited again to the safe place. He thought “it will not be the same. It’s better now.” It was not better. The man pulled his hand back in dismay that he had injuries worse than before. Worse because he could see the scars from the first bite. And then the new scars. The man was damaged not only physically but emotionally. A soul wound.
But then an amazing thing happened. It quickly crawled over, humble, and laid next to the man. The man was stunned again. Didn’t know what to do with it. He just sat with it. Then, he raised his hand of the right side of his chair and pet it. The man could feel the humility and love. It actually slept in peace.
The hand healed again. It actually enjoyed, engaged, and encouraged. And the man, well he was so tender and gullible. He just seemed to move on as if the wind were in his hair. He never told the house or neighbors about the first two bites. Seemed so unneeded and dishonorable for him to embarrass it or hurt it now. So …
Time passed …
Life lived …
Surely no more … right?
The question became “would that man put his hand in the safe place again?” A third time? He has been bit twice.
A crown of thorns
It happened again.
The man walked up to the safe place. The walk was not malicious in motive or action. As he got to the safe place, he looked in. There it was. Seeming to look like a tender shepherd ready. The man’s mind was processing going in yet at the same moment his eyes lowered to glance his right hand. It was then he got it.
A crown of thorns
The question became “would that man put his hand in the safe place again?” A third time? He has been bit twice. And he needed use of his hand. His hand helped him also.
The smile of the shepherd was so appealing and seemed wise, but in that moment standing at the safe place the man saw in its face a wildly ravenous wolf.
And at that the man turned to never go to that safe place again.
It was forgiven already.
But trust was gone.
The man’s hand grew steady.
The man moved on.