Danger Or Rescue

A fat, little frog squatted on the asphalt, enjoying the summer night. There was nothing to disrupt his evening hop across the countryside except the occasional lowing of cattle grazing in the field on the other side of those odd, evenly spaced iron rails that dissected the asphalt trail the fat, little frog was traveling. It was such a peaceful evening that he almost forgot to break the stillness with croaking calls to other frogs that might be taking their evening jaunts.

From the distant lengths of the iron rails, a rattling rumble came tumbling into the fat little frog’s quiet evening. He held tightly to his spot on the asphalt as the rumbling intensified, and in a moment a massive, thunderous machine pounded past him, just 10 feet away, in an eternal procession. The vibrations reverberated in the poor creatures lungs, but couldn’t make the fat little frog quake any more than he already was from sheer fright. If he could think, he was probably wondering if he would live long enough to hatch a plan of escape from the monster machine.

Alas, his evening took a worse turn, if that were possible. Another metal machine with glaring, blinding lights in front was approaching on the asphalt, hissing as it ground to a stop. The fat, little frog blinked as a living creature many times his size left the machine and—horror of horrors—walked toward him. It seemed intent on driving him from his little refuge on the asphalt where he still had not concocted an escape plan, so, in desperation, he fled before the oncoming feet of the advancing creature.

As the fat, little frog disappeared into the grass on the side of the asphalt road, I watched the train blast off into the night; the cross arms blinked goodbye as I strolled back to the car. Listening to the croaking in the grass while I drove across the spot recently vacated by a particular fat, little frog as he had fled before my prodding, I could nearly have imagined his beady eyes bulging from the excitement of his recent escape as he regaled his fellow frogs with the tale of his night of terror.

It amused me that the fat, little frog couldn’t tell danger from rescue. For all he knew, I was just as dangerous as the thunderous train and the hissing, glaring car—in fact, I must have been more frightful, since he held his ground in the presence of those monsters. In his mind, he had narrowly escaped death; and he had. His frantic hopping away from those approaching feet took him out of the path of all the cars waiting to pile over the railroad tracks as soon as the train rumbled into the distance once again.

Some days I feel like thundering monsters are flying by, much too close for comfort; in every other direction it seems like other monsters hiss and glare, while, worst of all, mysterious feet advance, intent on driving me off the little plot of ground I still hold as my own. You know you’ve had those days too, when the obstacles just keep mounting to dizzying heights. Do you, like me, try to pull together some solution, only to find yourself running away from yet another terror?

The amusing part is…we can’t tell danger from rescue either. The most horrifying experiences, the most terrifying of obstacles, might be our safety net from something worse—but, in our finite vision, we never even recognize it. God stands near us, directing us out of the way of pain, difficulty, or sorrow, and our hearts pound with fright because His instrumentalities are lost on our perception. Later we squeak out the tale of our narrow escape from utter ruin and breathe a sigh of relief for having survived the day.

And I think He must smile a bit sadly knowing that the peace we lost through our fear was unnecessarily sacrificed. Another day He may let the terrors fly by us again as He tries to give us faith’s vision that can perceive the difference between danger and rescue.

Falling Sparrows and Missing Kittens

My heart throbbed with abject terror and anxiety. The worry stood out on my brow in knit furrows, and tears threatened to come. Knowing the only One who could bring a solution for my predicament, I knelt down, attempted to regain my composure, and began to send an urgent plea for help.

I was five years old and my cat was missing. This may not seem like such a serious matter to you, but five-year-olds and runaway cats are very important to our heavenly Father; or at least so I thought, and hence I was kneeling in our backyard, hands grasping the chain-link fence, pouring out my troubles to the Creator of small girls and wayward kittens.

If you grew up in a Christian home, you probably remember doing similar things as a child-praying for some small, insignificant detail that was very important at the time. We’re taught that God hears our every prayer, and we take it very seriously. Through childhood years the Lord hears frequent petitions for everything from “Don’t let Mom get mad about that broken vase,” to “Please help my kitten find her way home.”

But somehow, growing up often alters our view of prayer. We still know that God hears our every prayer; however our outlook on the world has changed. As children, our world consists of Mom, Dad, siblings, more distant family, and a few friends. We usually know little of distant continents and diverse populations, let alone the colossal size of the universe.

The older we get, the more we learn and the broader our horizons become, we begin to realize the enormity of life—and of God. For God to be able to create and control such a massive operation, He becomes more of a distant Mastermind, rather than our loving Friend and Brother. Of course, He is really both, but growing up seems to change our emphasis. It suddenly seems very childish to pray for such insignificant and simple needs.

Maybe for you, adulthood hasn’t changed your discernment of prayer. Perhaps you escaped the customary effect growing up has on our perception of communication with God. If so, congratulations are in order. But more likely, you’ve found it hard to have that childlike simplicity that will pray for silly things like kittens. Do you still believe that God can do anything, but a questioning mind continues to whisper “Doesn’t God help those who help themselves?”

For instance, when was the last time you thought it too trivial to ask your heavenly Father for help with finding a parking spot near the door in the pouring rain or to help you remove that ketchup stain from your best shirt? Have you thought that with all the war and suffering in our world, He is too busy to keep guard over the purse you left in the parking lot!

I was driving back from Michigan, the car full of sleeping skiers worn out from a very active weekend. My brain replaying scene after scene from the weekend, I was blissfully inconscient of my surroundings as the Trailblazer whizzed across the bleak and deserted scenes of the Illinois winter until suddenly the realization that I had not checked the fuel level in caused me to look at the gas gauge. My worst fears took a record leap to become reality in the nanosecond that my eyes took in the needle…lodged perilously below the ‘E.’

If only I’d checked the gauge sooner, if only there were an exit nearby, if only it wasn’t winter, if only…But wishing would do no good, so I turned to prayer. For the next ten minutes I prayed and drove, until at last we reached an exit where, as I stopped to get gas, I fervently thanked God that we had not arrived there on foot.
Was I being childlike again? I hope so. It reminded me that God wants me to talk to Him about everything that concerns me, no matter how big or small the issue may appear to me or anyone else.

If our God is powerful enough to create all the wonders around us, and loving enough to send His Son to die for us, then it follows that He would be powerful and loving enough to listen to, and answer, our smallest, most insignificant prayer. In spite of all our mistaken ideas about God being too preoccupied to notice every little need of ours, Jesus said, “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall to the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10:29-31)

God doesn’t hear and answer our least prayers exclusively because He loves us, but also because as we observe His faithfulness in our everyday problems, we’ll begin to trust Him for more significant and important choices. When we see His providence in what we might term “minor” things, it becomes easier to rely on God for the major dilemmas we may face. How can we expect that future crises will bring us to Christ in complete confidence and faith, if we’ve never experienced His intervention on account of our petitions for past difficulties?

Mrs. E. G. White says, “We have nothing to fear for the future, except we forget how God has led us in the past.” This is how our “insignificant” prayers become very important! Because of them, we will have a past of answered prayers, no matter how small they were, that increased our foundation of faith in God.

“Meow,” sounded a guilty voice behind me. Tears forgotten, I happily cuddled the furry prodigal; and a five-year-olds faith was confirmed once more.

“I’ve been worried about you!” I exclaimed. “Now where have you been?”

Probably out plotting the fall of some poor sparrows!