Tired of Scratching God's Hand

It was weird. Weird. I have a friend who just got a cat and the cat is a biter. "He is young and just wants me to play with him," the friend says. Biting cats and the owners who love them. Part of the magic and wonder that comes with the world of pets. But today I actually learned something in church and it connected strongly with this biting cat.

The vicar told a story about a father who gives in to his kids' nagging wishes to pick up a mangy kitten on the side of the road. He stops the car and goes to grab the cat. It is mangy, thin, unhealthy, hungry, scared and flea-infested. He goes to grab the mangy kitten and it absolutely scratches the fire out of his hand and goes crazy. The dad sort of wallops it around a bit and grabs it by the scruff of the neck and goes to toss it in the back seat with his kids. He warns them not to play with it because it is probably leprous. They take mangy cat home, clean it, love it and take care of it. They choose to keep it and it becomes another addition to the growing zoo of animals the father complains about. One day dad comes home and as he is reading the mail, he feels something rubbing up against his leg. It is the formerly mangy cat. Only now instead of arching its back and bearing its claws it shows its affection. It isn't the same cat. And yet it is. The father looks around, sees nobody looking, reaches down and strokes the cat. Now the cat is able to accept the love of the same hand that lifted it out of the pit not too long ago.

The vicar then said it. It ruined me. "God blessed me. He stuck his scarred and scratched and bloodied hand into my life and blessed me." I am tired of being mangy. I am tired of being flea infested and fighting the loving hand that wants to just take care of me. I pray, so deeply and desperately pray that I have finally learned to love that hand now. I don't want to be walloped anymore and tossed into safety against my will. I want to finally recognize the loving hand, the same hand that I fought so terribly against.

And finally, years after being lifted from the pit, I am a better me. Finally. I can recognize that the hand of God, the righteous right hand, leads my way, loves me completely and perfectly and relentlessly and lifts my weary head.

I looked at me and was just so disappointed in what I had become and who I was. So mangy. And now? Well, I would like to think I am fairly new. There is room enough in my life for the most important thing on earth for me now. God created the space.

And that is smooth.