I flew to Arizona for a five day retreat to visit my 78 year-old father in Green Valley. Just up the street from my dad’s home is a beautiful condo collection, one of which I rent each spring. My condo this year overlooked the sensitive contour line of the Santa Rita Mountains. Being the first week of May, the cacti were blooming, mid-day temperatures were in the high 90s, and the sun was bright with no cloud covering. What a wonderful escape from the below average temperatures of Wisconsin!
Slowly and carefully, I took one of the kitchen bar stools and moved it close to the thrasher who was trying frantically to escape through a window pane where he could see his freedom but could not secure it for himself. My heart broke for the poor creature. I knew that the only way he would have freedom was if I captured him and carried him to a place where he could fly free, but I knew that such a capture would cause his little heart to pound wildly thinking that he was doomed to die in the hands of his captor, this predator.
As I watched him eat the fruit, I thought about myself being a thrasher in the hands of God. How often do I wander into unknown, potentially dangerous territories laden with spiritual predators? How often do I helplessly thrash about trying to find some escape route from the dead ends of life? How often do I long for freedom to be what God created me to be—to fly freely instead of risking potential injury to my soul by walking voluntarily into situations where I do not belong and have no experience? How I long for a savior in such times who does not deliver what I expect but, instead, gives what I did not dream or deserve? Love. Life. Freedom. Grace. Only Jesus. I have studied and searched all other world religions. My conclusion? Only Jesus sets the captives free. We are all captives to something–some fear, some obsession, some passion–whatever grasps us more firmly than Jesus offers no release in the end.
Thank you God for allowing Mr. Thrasher to enter my condo and my consciousness today.