On the morning of my cataract surgery I rose early unable to sleep in anticipation. At 3:30 I sat in my brown velvet recliner just before dawn. A plaintive cry broke my thoughts. It sounded like a kitten calling for its mother.
The cries persisted until I turned on the porch light and looked out. I caught a glimpse of a tiny tan and white paw disappear under the plant bench next to the door. The cries ceased.
When my wife Nancy stirred and began to ready herself for the day, I told her about what I had heard. “I’m sure it’s a lost kitten, but if so, he’s really small.” Nancy looked but saw no trace of the animal. We assured ourselves it had long fled our premises.
Later that day, after successful surgery, Nancy drove me home. I had orders to rest the remainder of the day. Nancy, an R.N. would attend to my needs. However, as we exited our car at the side of our house, we heard the cry that I had heard earlier. It came from the thicket of Japanese bamboo lying between our yard and the creek.
Nancy crawled into the bamboo jungle. She called from within. “I can see a kitten. He’s very young hardly old enough to be separated from his mother. He keeps running away.” Feeling abandoned, I retreated to the house. I needed to follow doctor’s orders. Besides, I could see little through the dark goggles the doctor had given me.
Nancy persisted in her pursuit of the displaced creature. She called in reinforcements. My homeschooling daughter and her four pet loving charges, armed with cat treats, arrived. However, despite attempts to surround the kitten, he successfully evaded capture. Nonetheless, he never went far and always circled back to the same spot. His plaintiff call for help continued.
After two hours, I heard the crew come in our back door. My daughter nursed scratches and a superficial bite–war wounds. My sixteen-year-old granddaughter held a box with something scuffling inside. I looked in and saw a ball of tan and white fur.
The first day the kitten hid under the recliner in our sunroom. However, he ventured out for food, water, and the litter box. Now he has accustomed himself to the pleasures of being a housecat–attacking toys, sitting on laps, crawling across keyboards, and the like–free from fear of abandonment. We named him Elijah, a “voice crying in the wilderness,” for that is what he was in our backyard.
Our pet addition’s story reminds me of a struggle that takes place every day. A sinner abandoned in the wilderness of an evil world makes a frantic call for help. His cry goes out and he knows not who hears, but still he cries. The Master of Creation has heard and opens the door to a new life, but the soul is afraid. Perhaps he fears losing his freedom or his place in this world, but just like our kitten, he runs from the very One Who loves him and can provide every need. And so, this lost soul runs from the place of safety and light into a world full of darkness.
But his loving Creator does not give up. He hears the sinner’s cries wherever he roams in the wilderness of sin. He pursues until at last He surrounds the soul with everlasting love until the wayward one surrenders, saying “Lord be merciful to me, a sinner. The Father brings him into His family where he enjoys all the benefits afforded to God’s children: love, joy, peace… and so much more. The sinner has passed from death to life.
Matthew 11:28 says, Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. And in Revelation 3:20 we hear this call, Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. If you are wandering in the briars and brambles of life, will you open your heart today? Your loving Savior has heard your cry and is ready to receive you in love. Will you receive Him?
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