On the ground
Why are you twisting
Round and round?
It was a fresh morning after a night of heavy rain.
As I walked to the door of my red Pontiac, pulling it
open, a design on the dirt-laden concrete caught my attention.
Ringlets.
Beautiful, deep ringlets embossed into the grime left over from the previous
night’s downpour. If ever beauty was
created in dirt, this was it. Swirls
twisted in the ground and circled my feet.
As I wondered as to the cause of these beautiful marks,
my wonder was quickly answered with a sad sight.
A still, tiny earth worm lay on the concrete by what its
valiant struggle to find earth—sustenance, life—had created.
How sad that the seeking of nourishment—the failed
seeking—had created such a tapestry in the murkiest of canvases.
Always the child growing up who was kind to bugs,
rescuing them from bullies, puddles, and whatever else beheld certain death, I
paused, believing it too little, too late to save the little artist.
As my eyes were about to leave the landscape, I stopped.
For what I believed to be a worm past its prime, life
over, plug pulled, was really a worm that refused to die. It seemed to wave at me.
One half-hearted, exhausted wiggle gave way to the
understanding that this little creature had mustered up its last strength to try
one last time to save himself, hoping to find his way. Mere biology, yes, but a message from God, so
much the more.
Had he not made one last attempt, had he not summoned up
his last wiggle of energy, I would not have turned back. I would have gone on my way, leaving
him. I would not have plucked him from
his troubles, from his death, and set him back in the greenery, the breath of
life.
And in so many way this leads the mind to a vision of God. That He needs to (and wants to) see us
fight. He wants to be there in our
struggles—our struggles that, by the way, create beautiful tapestries,
tapestries that are the mastermind of God’s hands at the spindle of our lives.
So, keep fighting.
Keep fighting.
Create beauty. Keep the faith.
For at your last moment, your last ditch effort, the
moment exhaustion has taken captive your mind, body, and spirit, it is His hand—His
loving, faithful hand—that will pluck you from the beautifully crafted muck and
mire, placing you precisely where you need to be.
It’s the last wiggle, the last wave, the last cry that
will be your loudest, and will fiercely pierce the ear of a Father who is dying—and
literally did die—to help.
God will do His part.
You do yours.
Fight on.
Arise from the dead
(Ephesians 5:14).
