In 1956 when I was a young boy, I spent a whole summer vacation with my cousins on my Uncle Adolph's farm in South Dakota. That was an adventure I will never forget.
One of our favorite hot summer afternoon pastimes was to cool off in the stock tank. One day, while we were taking a dip, a lone calf came in from the pasture to get a drink. Like most boys, we had some mean streaks in us and decided not to share our water tank with him.
But it was hot and he was thirsty and persistent. In spite of his every effort to get near enough for a quick drink, we were determined not to let him; we kept him at bay by yelling a
nd throwing dirt clods. Pretty soon he started lowing and so we began to mimic him. He got louder and we got louder. Then his mooing turned to a sound like I had not heard before. It was almost as if he were wailing but we just kept on tormenting the crying calf.
We were having great fun until, suddenly, I looked up and there, on the crest of the hill above us, stood every bull, steer, and male yearling in my uncle's herd. They were lined up like Indians in an old western movie. All at once, they started charging down the hill toward us.
We grabbed up our clothing and scrambled for the fence. I just barely made it over. All of them were snorting and pacing along the fence line almost as if to dare us to come back over. I think back at that event and realize that although that little calf was intimidated, he was never really in danger. Why? Because he was just one cry away from help and resources.
If God's creatures are that responsive to the cries of their own, how much more responsive must God be to the cries of His own? Just one cry away we have unlimited resources.
“The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous and His ears are attentive to their cry”
Ps. 34:15
One of our favorite hot summer afternoon pastimes was to cool off in the stock tank. One day, while we were taking a dip, a lone calf came in from the pasture to get a drink. Like most boys, we had some mean streaks in us and decided not to share our water tank with him.
But it was hot and he was thirsty and persistent. In spite of his every effort to get near enough for a quick drink, we were determined not to let him; we kept him at bay by yelling a
nd throwing dirt clods. Pretty soon he started lowing and so we began to mimic him. He got louder and we got louder. Then his mooing turned to a sound like I had not heard before. It was almost as if he were wailing but we just kept on tormenting the crying calf.We were having great fun until, suddenly, I looked up and there, on the crest of the hill above us, stood every bull, steer, and male yearling in my uncle's herd. They were lined up like Indians in an old western movie. All at once, they started charging down the hill toward us.
We grabbed up our clothing and scrambled for the fence. I just barely made it over. All of them were snorting and pacing along the fence line almost as if to dare us to come back over. I think back at that event and realize that although that little calf was intimidated, he was never really in danger. Why? Because he was just one cry away from help and resources.
If God's creatures are that responsive to the cries of their own, how much more responsive must God be to the cries of His own? Just one cry away we have unlimited resources.
“The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous and His ears are attentive to their cry”
Ps. 34:15
1 comment:
Beautiful post.
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