hero or villain?

I saved a raccoon’s life the other day. Or did I just prolong its agony?

I hope it’s the former, but fear it’s the latter.

My quiet time with the Lord was interrupted as the raccoon floated by in the swollen creek next to me. I was close enough to hear it gasping for air as it bobbed up and down in the water.

I jumped to my feet, found a broken tree branch and reached out to try and snag it and bring it to shore. My plan seemed to work as I was able to drag it next to some tree roots, but the raccoon wasn’t able to climb ashore and continued floating downstream.

Discouraged but not willing to give up, I sprinted down the path until I got ahead of the floating animal, slid down an embankment, and then stretched out a second time to snag it with the branch.

Once again I got it near the shoreline, but now it was completely underwater and no longer struggling. Fearing the current would sweep it away yet again, I did what I really didn’t want to do: I reached out and picked it up by the scruff of the neck and laid it on the bank next to me.

Once ashore it began clicking its teeth and shaking all over, and I could see that its eyes were wide open. I was absolutely elated thinking I had actually saved its life. But after a minute or two it fell on its side and kept shaking and rattling its teeth.

Thinking it might need a little CPR, I gently pushed its belly with the side of the branch, hoping it would expel any water and help with the whole breathing thing. Things didn’t change, however, and after several minutes of watching it laying on its side and struggling I decided there was nothing else I could do.

As I headed back to my car, I was on cloud nine, thinking I had actually saved the thing’s life. But my glee quickly turned to concern as I began wondering whether the thing was shaking because of rabies instead of being cold and in shock. That unsettling thought made my feet turn around and quickly make their way back to the creek where I washed my hand thoroughly in the water.

You know, just in case.

It was then when the worst thought of all came washing over me: Maybe I didn’t save the thing’s life at all—maybe I just pulled it out of the water so it would die a slow and painful death on shore. Maybe instead of letting it drown quickly in the water I was merely prolonging its pain.

What if I was really a villain instead of a hero?

The thought haunted me for quite some time and I couldn’t help but try and make an application to people who are in so much pain they would rather be dead. Though they yearn for it and would welcome it with open arms, family, friends and doctors do everything they can to keep the person alive and kicking, no matter how poor the quality of life may be.

Even if the person would rather just give up—even if the person would rather just die than live in such excruciating pain.

Doesn’t it seem…I don’t know, a little cruel in some way and on some level? Are we merely prolonging their pain? Are we actually dooming them to spend the rest of their lives—however long or short—in agonizing pain?

How—exactly—is that compassionate?

If you’re wondering whether I’m a closet fan of Jack Kevorkian, I’m not. Just the opposite, in fact.  So no need to worry.

And yet…now, today, I think I better understand the other side of the argument.

Just saying.

"Why did I not perish at birth, and die as I came from the womb?
Why were there knees to receive me and breasts that I might be nursed?
For now I would be lying down in peace;

I would be asleep and at rest.”1

1  Job 3:11-13

hope

As soon as I got the message I called the hospital to talk with him. Chest pains are nothing to sneeze at.

Me: “How are you feeling?”

Him: “With my hands.”

Oh how I wish I could have that kind of sense of humor at such a difficult time. While I’ve been told I have a good sense of humor, I’m painfully aware of its tendency to go AWOL at particularly dark times.

It’s during those times that I have to diligently guard against throwing a temper tantrum and yelling for my mommy.

Being an adult, hundreds of miles from my mum, and possessing an intense desire to be masculine, I choose instead to seek help in the form of hope.

Without hope, there’s nothing.

Feeling the urge to yell “Mommy!” this afternoon, I used my Bible software to find hope. Found out the word is used 165 times in the NIV, and since I’m partial to Psalms, I was especially interested in what was there.

I found this:

“I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope.”1

I like this verse. Very much.

God’s “word”—the Bible—is full of hope. There’s hope for the sinner and for the sufferer. And I’m both.

So are you, my friend. Like me, you’ve sinned. And like me, you’ve suffered. Our experiences may be vastly different, but we’re both doing the best we can here on this planet filled with temptations and pain.

So what’s weighing on you today? Whatever it is, know this: God’s “word”—the Bible—is full of hope. Because of that, I encourage you to bow your head right now, ask the Lord for a healthy dose of hope, and then open the book and see what you can find.

It’s there. Trust me.

“I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope.”

1  Psalm 130:5

what will you do?

I smiled as Bob licked the back of my hand. Grateful, I reached up and stroked the side of his head.

I’m guessing he wondered why his master was sitting quietly in the dark, eyes closed and moaning. I doubt whether he knew I had a migraine, but he seemed to sense something was wrong.

So he leaned over and gave me a big old lick with that sandpaper tongue of his. Bob is a good friend, even though he’s a cat.

He did what he could and I appreciated it.

Later, after taking a nap (being unconscious is a good thing), I heard him meow outside the bedroom door. When I let Bob in he walked right up to me, rubbed against my leg and virtually begged me to pick him up and give him a hug. I took him up on the offer, and it felt good.

He did what he could and I appreciated it.

I say again, Bob is a good friend, even though he’s a cat. Somehow, someway he sensed I was in pain and came to my aid.

“Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions.”1

Bob could’ve just meowed his sympathies but decided that wasn’t good enough. So he licked me and then offered himself up for a hug. As a cat, there wasn’t much more that he could do, was there? He gave it his best shot.

But people, oh my, people can do much more, can’t they?

We can pray for and with others. We can listen patiently when they need to talk. And we can hug them and hold them tight when they’re at the end of their rope.

So do you know someone who’s in pain? Surely someone comes to mind.

Now, what are you going to do about it?

Bob did what he could, but he’s only a cat. You, on the other hand, have resources cats can only dream about. Compared to them, you have a vast aresenal at your disposal.

So, what are you going to do for the person you know who’s in pain? Maybe, just maybe they’re sitting in the dark, eyes closed and moaning in pain. And there’s nobody there who can help.

What are you going to do?

“Let us not love with words or tongue but with actions.”

1  1 John 3:18

light at the end of the tunnel

Will relief ever come?

Have you ever wondered, in the midst of your pain and suffering, whether things will ever get better? You know what I’m talking about: When the future looks just as bleak—if not more so—than the present.

What happens when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, and gloom and doom haunt your thoughts day and night?

What do you do?

Let’s start with the obvious: Something needs to change, and change quickly. What you’re going through can’t continue. You need help. 

Duh, right? Except the obvious needs to be stated. Now let’s get specific.

First and foremost, you need to bring your problem(s) before the Lord. Tragically, many people either pooh-pooh the importance of prayer or neglect it altogether. For instance, in the case of a physical illness, our knee-jerk reaction may be to get on the phone with a specialist instead of getting on our knees.

While there’s a time and a place for earthly resources, I suggest instead you start with a phone call to your heavenly Father. Seeking out help from others is important, but I urge you not to overlook the only divine resource available.

If you want to know how to pray and what to say, just read through a handful of Psalms written by King David and you’ll see how it’s done. He was flawed and troubled just like us, but had an ace in his pocket: the Creator of the universe.

“The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.”1

This attitude of dependence is critical in your recovery. The Lord God must be your most important asset, bar none. He’s more important than your doctor, therapist and pastor put together. After all, He has resources no one else on this planet has.

And when you talk to the Lord about what’s going on, for heaven’s sake don’t hold back. Even a cursory reading of the Psalms shows us that David never held back. Ever. Always be respectful, but if you’re hurting, tell Him. If you’re angry, tell Him. And if you’re fed up, tell Him.

Whatever’s on your mind, share it with your heavenly Father. He’s the epitome of the perfect parent, ready and willing to help His children. In this case, His spiritual children.

Is it important to seek out the prayers, support and help from family, friends and others? Of course it is. But I urge you not to overlook the only divine resource available.

When the future looks just as bleak—if not more so—than the present, you need the help of King David’s God. Your God.

“Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you.”2

1   Psalm 18:2

2  Psalm 55:22