This land of Togo, West Africa, holds a milky way full of surprises. About once an hour I find myself in a situation that causes me to think one of two things. "How is it so that I'm 5,985 miles from home and completely unsure where my next breath is coming from?" or "God looks out for little children, fools and drunks. That's me, the fool."
About a week ago, one of these revelations struck me with the speed of a drugged turtle.
It was one of those mornings in which life unfolds exactly like you planned. That is, until the plot twist of adventure plows over an unsuspecting prey. Sudsy wash water, dirty dishes, a dripping drain rack, and thoughts far away from my task made for a normal prelude to the following drama.
The screen door is wrenched open, and an 8-year-old cyclone rips into the kitchen, yelling "Snake! Snake!" I rushed out to inspect the invader. Our compound had not yielded any such dreaded deceivers; we knew it to be a matter of time.
The little guy was zooming around in our water barrel. About 6 inches of murk passed for a decent swimming whole; the half-cup of bleach soon added did not. Mr. Snake keeps writhing and coiling, undeterred by poisonous chemicals.
"I'll just use a scissors and snip his head off." This naive white girl wondered at his black tongue, pearly white skin, but, deeming him non-poisonous, advanced with her shears nonetheless. After several failures stemming from fear, I did indeed get a snip in, but there was no expected fatality of deathly fangs. Eventually, a brave native girl of perhaps 7 years old scooped the creature out with a stick and I turned over my executioner duties to the man of the house holding a trusty, longer-than-scissors machete. We bid a hasty farewell as the snake disintegrated into numerous minute chunks of flesh. Along with it disappeared my first adventure with Africa's deadliest: the black mamba.
The snake is like sin in the world. Somewhat removed from the purity of a Christian's heart, but aware to us just the same. One day, we wake up to the realization that it's no longer outside our hearts. There's a little bit which snuck in, but the snake is right beside the wall, and definitely contained. We can't leave it alone; it's exciting to knock around a little, testing our ground of bravery or ability to be tempted and succeed in refusal of inclusion. Oh, of course you won't find me bitten; I'm to quick, and it's such a little sin!
Yet, we continuously return for another round of gaining knowledge. We dump in the bleach of Truth, a half-hearted experiment to watch the reaction, but the snake just grows angrier. So, grabbing the bull by its horns, (or, pertaining to my case: attempting to snip a snake's head with scissors) we advance with bravado and fearlessness. Somewhere, in the scramble of removing sin, we fail to comprehend how close death is! No matter how nonchalant my attitude was, those fangs were still just mere inches away. It is only by God's grace and mercy that we are spared an agonizing death. It may take awhile, but we will realize that God is the only One who holds the sin-removal tool. And He's just waiting for us to relinquish ‘control' and turn to Him. I know two things for certain: the machete is sharp and His aim will not miss.
Deuteronomy 13:4-5
“Ye shall walk after the Lord your God, and fear Him, and keep His commandments, and obey His voice, and cleave unto Him.
And that prophet, or that dreamer of dreams, shall be put to death; because he hath spoken to turn you away from the Lord your God, which brought you out of the land of Egypt, and redeemed you out of the house of bondage, to thrust thee out of the way which the Lord thy God commanded thee to walk in. So shalt thou put the evil away from the midst of thee.”