Mistaken Identity

I saw a mouse,’

‘Where?’

‘There on the stair’

‘Where on the stair?

‘Right there…

A little mouse clogs on

Well, I declare

Going clip clippity clop

On the stair…right there’

I read about a mouse in a newspaper this afternoon. A woman saw a mouse, not on a stair and not wearing clogs or clip clippity clopping in windmill. It was just there, not really moving at all. She phoned someone, an agency that dealt with vermin. It all sounded very urgent so the man and his van, a mask and a pair of gloves, came round to deal with the infestation.

‘I saw a mouse,’

‘Where?’

‘Just over there’

‘Where over there?

‘Right there…’

Sure enough there was a mouse, calm as you like, right there. It wasn’t moving. The man hazarded a guess that the mouse was dead. It stands to reason that it would have disappeared down a mouse hole if it was alive. The mouse allowed itself to be captured.

‘I have a mouse,’

‘Where?’

‘Here in my hand’

‘Where in your hand?

‘Right here…’

It turned out to be a toy mouse, looking like the real thing, but fashioned from soft plastic. There were no clogs, no clip clippity clop on the stair, just a plastic mouse not moving anywhere.

What else looks like the real thing but proves to be something else entirely?

My dad was a practical joker so I’m told. I remember an incident when I was very young. He came marching into the sitting room. He had all the appearance of an angry man.

‘Someone has been sick on the bathroom floor!’

He stabbed a finger in my direction. I hadn’t been sick. I would have been crying if I had. I was a pathetic creature with very little backbone in those days. Some would say that I haven’t changed much since then.

‘You,’ he said, ‘get a mop and bucket and clean it up. Now!’

I didn’t argue. I wasn’t my sick, but I fetched the mop and bucket and headed up stairs. My father followed me up the stairs and stood leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over.

It was there on the bathroom floor. A pool of sick. Were those carrots floating around in it? I slapped the mop in the middle of the pool, one hand covering my nose. I dragged the mop towards me. In its entirety the puddle moved with the mop. The carrots did not float off in a different direction but held their place. There was no wet, slurping sound and there was no unpleasant aroma.

It was just a piece of plastic, sick coloured, dotted with plastic carrots. It looked real but it wasn’t. My dad howled with laughter. The siblings crowded round the door laughed too. I think there might have been a big, wet tear sliding down my cheek.

What else looks like the real thing but proves to be something else entirely?

I hate to say it but there a lot of people claiming to be Christians. They look the part, polished up nicely for church on Sunday. They tick so many of the boxes we associate with a faith confession. When it comes to that last day, when they knock on the door of heaven, will Jesus say, ‘Go away. I never knew you.’?

What looks like the real thing isn’t always.

 

 

 

Lying Down Among Lions

 ‘My soul lies down among lions, who would devour the sons of men. Their teeth are spears and arrows, their tongue a sharpened sword.’ Psalm 57:4 RSV

I was reading this on Thursday morning. Perhaps any other day this verse would have slipped by me, but the events of Wednesday drew my attention to it.

Wednesday actually began on Tuesday and Tuesday isn’t the starting point. The starting point was some three years previously. If I haven’t told you the whole sorry story, count yourselves one of the lucky few. It began with a police spot check, pulling drivers over to see if they could read number plates at 20 metres. There were eye tests and cataracts and laser surgery. There was covid and things took a long time.

Tuesday the clinic phoned. Someone had cancelled and did I want to take the appointment? Daft question, you think, right? Over three years is a long time. I had got used to not seeing clearly, I had magnifying glasses and books with large print.

It has all been a bit of a mystery why I wasn’t seeing clearly. Scans revealed a messy back of the eye. Maybe the optic nerve was not getting a clear read. However, looking closely at the left eye lens, the doctor realised that the lens had folded over around the edges. It happens, he said. Would I like it sorted, he asked? I was settling myself in for another long wait, but he hauled me into another room and grasped a laser. Even now I am not sure what he did. He warned me that it might not help, but I would be no worse off.

It is hard to put into words the miracle that happened later that night. I was seeing clearly. I could read things, lines from books, newsprint, poems – awesome.

The next morning, in my quiet time, reading Psalm 57, God said to me, ‘Did not your soul not down with the lions?’ There were things I could have done that I didn’t – I just put up with things. I laid down with the lions.

Other versions of the Bible make it clear that this is not a Daniel scene in the lion’s den. This is not God closing the mouths of the lions. The lions are people – men on fire, angry men, violent men, Some versions label the lions as simply ‘the enemy’.

This lying down was like an act of surrender that said this situation, this eye complication, was nothing I can change. I didn’t try. I just built my life around the problem. I adapted. I bought magnifying glasses and printed documents off in extra-large font. I did not know I could do anything else. Friends told me to phone the clinic, chase up the appointment, but I didn’t.

My lack of clear vision didn’t stop me doing things. I just made use of things, and people, Joe in particular, to help me. I was not immobilised. But now the vision is back I realise how hard I had to work and how draining it all was.

I don’t know what your lions are. I don’t know if your soul is lying down among them. They don’t have to be angry people who wish you ill. Your lions might be disappointments, illness, money troubles – the list goes on. Let me tell you now that you don’t need to lie down with it. You don’t need to tell yourself or let anyone else tell you there is no solution.

In the gospel there is a story of the demon possessed man of Gadarenes. It involves pigs running of a cliff. Before the pigs there is the man living among the tombs, cutting himself with rock. I don’t know what requirements there were about relatives visiting tombs of loved ones, but they didn’t. They gave the graveyard a wide berth. They lived with the man and adjusted what they did because of him. Then came Jesus. The townspeople did not have a solution to the man in the graveyard, but Jesus did.

A few weeks ago in Ephesians 1:17 I read ‘I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better.’ Those first three words ‘I keep asking…’ have really lodged themselves in my brain. God does not mind if you keep asking. It is not a lack of faith to keep asking, God does not say, ‘I heard you the first time.’ I keep asking – make it your mantra.

Psalm 57:8 goes on to say ‘Awake, my soul! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn.’ If your soul lying among the lions, it is time to wake up. Worship gets you to the place you need to be and in the right mindset.

There is a way of looking at v4. Lying down has with it a suggestion of sleep. I don’t know whether Daniel in the lions’ den fell asleep. If you were surrounded by lions, would you fall asleep? In Psalm 23 the shepherd makes the sheep lie down in green pastures. Sheep don’t lie down unless they feel safe. It is possible that the psalmist is saying that even though he is surrounded by his enemies, he can still sleep peacefully because he knows God is in control. Are you paying attention?

A final observation comes in v5 – ‘Be exalted, O God, above the heavens; let your glory be over all the earth.’ Can I also suggest that you comfort is not God’s highest priority? Yes, your soul is lying down with the lions. It’s not comfortable. You want a way out. But where is God’s glory best demonstrated? The way you deal with lying with the lions, whether it is the quick exit, or the long journey or the peace you know you have to lie down and sleep untroubled – whatever gives God the most glory is the path you need to take, You are not left ill-equipped to do any of these things.

A Tale of Two Kitties

There is a new family that has moved into the house adjacent to mine. They have a cat. It is a white at with a black eye. It is an outside cat and has claimed our garden as its territory. Its own back yard is paved over and full of bikes. It could walk around to its own front yard and find a lawn and flower beds, but the wildness that is ours suits it better.

This morning it was sitting beneath our tree looking upwards. There was no birdsong, or should I say that in the absence of my hearing aids I couldn’t hear any birds singing. That is rare as our garden is one of the few along the terrace that still has a tree. There is usually a noisy chatter as the birds make conversation and gossip. But not today.

There was a swirl of a tail as the white cat, with black eye, launched itself into the branches. It is a tree that invites a climber with limbs and branches not entirely out of reach. I watched the cat as it stretched limbs, scratched at a branch, and settled itself down.  It did not look comfortable and hopped down.  It resumed staring up at the tree.

I have to confess that I had once tricked my husband into thinking we had a squirrel in the tree. I had tipped a packet of nuts at bottom and hopped and skipped about pointing upwards. He came out of the house to look up at the branches.

The wite cat, with the black eye, launched itself back up into the tree. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement.  Was it a bird? Was it a plane? No. It was a black cat. There would have been a wonderful symmetry has the black cat had a white eye, but it was just black.

The two cats stared at each other. No threatening hisses.

It occurred to me that there might have been a conversation going on.

 

‘Hey, Blondie,’ said the black cat. ‘Any idea how I can get down from here? I have been stuck up here for ages.’

‘Twat cat,’ Blondie replied, ‘It’s not rocket science. We have big cat DNA. Just follow your instincts. ‘

‘The DNA got me up here, but getting down? I just can’t seem to find a way.

‘There’s a branch just over there,’ Blondie pointed with a paw. ‘Sidle over that way. It looks strong enough to take your weight. Then the other branch there…’

The black cat followed the advice given. There was a strong gust of wind and the leaves rustled alarmingly.

‘No! It’s not going to work,’ he said, retreating to where he had been.

‘Hang on,’ said Blondie, ‘I’m coming over.’ She began to step daintily between branches, swaying with the wind.

‘No! Stop. It’s too dangerous. The branch might break. We’ll hurtle to the ground and be killed. Someone needs to phone the fire brigade.’

Blondie sighed. She had met these kinds of cats before. Didn’t he know that even if the branch broke and they fell, they are cats and cats always land on their four feet? It’s almost impossible to help someone who will not trust you.

 

We all know it was just two cats in a tree. The writer in me cannot miss the chance to turn it into a narrative of some kind. The child of God in me cannot help but find a faith-directed metaphor.

We all find ourselves, at times, in places where we would rather not be. Climbing into a tree may be one thing but finding a way down might be a different challenge. There may be people standing at the base of the tree telling us where the next safe branch is and expecting us to trust them, but when someone climbs into the tree, it is something else.

Some people would insist that all religions are the same. God or Allah or Krishna or whatever name a deity goes by, it’s all the same. It is not. Only authentic Christianity has God becoming a human being and joining humanity to lead people out of the mess of Eden, the Fall and sin’s curse. He is like my white cat, with the black eye, that climbs into the tree to lead a black cat to safety. He is there on the branch with me as the wind tosses the tree, not cheering from the side lines.

And do you know what? I get to be like Him, tasked with climbing into the places where someone else has got stuck and helping them to a safe place in Jesus.