Quit Squirming—We're Trying to Save You

My teenage daughter breeds reptiles for fun. 

Her fun—not mine.

Last week we spent hours attempting to transfer a baby lizard from the parent enclosure into the infant enclosure, a safe space for the hatchlings since (speaking of fun) this particular breed of reptile has a habit of eating its young. Our job was to trick the baby into running into a cup so we could scoop it out of the danger zone and into a place where it could thrive.

It did not cooperate.

We cajoled it with mealworms, nudged it with a stick, chased it with human fingertips ten times the size of its head, but the little speed demon eluded every maneuver and burrowed deeper into the substrate, refusing to be rescued.

“You know if you don’t let us help you, you’re going to become somebody’s lunch.” I spoke English to the lizard. Desperate times.

“Come on, little buddy.” My daughter whispered into the glass. “We’re trying to save you.”

Now if that isn’t an analogy for the Christian life.

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.” (Psalm 32:8)

How many times has God tried to nudge me with a stick? Often that “stick” looks to us here humans like a weapon, big and scary and dangerous, when in fact it’s the opposite: a rescue.

Like the lost job that leads to a better job, the one God knew was best all along.

Or a health procedure that leads to discovering a bigger risk before it becomes incurable. You’ve heard the stories, right? Guy breaks his arm and gets a scan that detects cancer while it’s still in the early stages. Who knew a broken arm could save a person’s life?

Or sometimes the big, scary stick is just a change of plans—a disappointment or interruption—that leads to open doors we never would have noticed otherwise. These are the doors God invites us to walk through, because they lead to His continued course for our lives.

I don’t know about you, but if there’s one place in this world I want to be, it’s on the road to God’s plan. Even if He has to poke or pinch me to get there.

After a few days of failed attempts, my daughter and I eventually managed to catch the baby lizard and gently transfer it to a lamp-heated enclosure of its own, safe and snug. And some day, when it has grown big enough to withstand greater transports, my daughter will sell it to another reptile enthusiast who will ideally tend it with lots of love and humidity and feeder insects. The good life. For a reptile.

And for you and me? What is our good life, after all? 

It’s one where we trust God through every nudge, believe He has our best interests at heart, and let Him capture us, transfer us into His care, and tend to our needs as only He can.

With the perfect love of a Heavenly Father.

No cannibalism involved.