Hooked!

When I read about David in 2 Samuel 11-12 I can't help but think of fishing with my Dad. Dad loved to fish, I'm sure I must have been a chatty little girl because he would always say "shh...you're going to scare the fish away". When I was real young he would get my line out in the water in just the right spot and then hand the pole over for me to wait. Waiting is such a hard thing to do and at times can be very tiring especially for a young girl who just wants to catch a fish and make her Daddy proud (we can get ourselves in all kinds of trouble when we are tired or bored) Dad would get the worm set just right on the hook to hide it so that just a little bit of the worm would hang down to entice the fish to come and bite upon my hook. When I would get a little nibble I'd yank the line right up out of the water and would be so disappointed when there wasn't a fish on the other end. Dad would have to put the line back in the water in that special spot and I'd have to wait again. He would say, be patient once you feel a little nibble just leave the pole right there don't move a muscle. Let the fish come back and get another little taste and once he really bites down then give it a little jerk and set the hook, once you get him hooked he will try and swim away with your worm then start reeling him in - you've got him then. 

Thinking of this I can't help but be reminded of what Hebrews 12:1 says - Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. How many times have we found ourselves hooked and square in the middle of sin - so easily entangled, but we have our hope in Jesus Christ who died for our sin which enables us to throw it off and run the race God has marked out for us to run!

To this day I can remember when Dad took me fishing and allowed me to cast my own pole. I remember his instructions and telling me how to watch the line and the hook as I put it over my shoulder then watch where you want it to land in the water, throw your cast then turn the handle just once on the reel and sit and wait for the fish to bite. There's that word again "wait". I did as he said but I didn't see it land in the water so I gave it a yank and then Dad screamed, I had hooked his left ear and when I looked over all I could see was the hook pierced through the top of his ear and the worm was wiggling all over his ear. My casting lesson ended at that moment but his fishing lessons live on.

In the season he was in David was in a place where he shouldn't be, kings would go to the battlefield in the Spring but David stayed back at the palace -nibble nibble. Then when a sleepless night and boredom set in that was another nibble on the worm. Looking at something or someone you shouldn't be looking at - nibble nibble. Then learning she was married, David sent for Bathsheba anyway - nibble nibble. Sleeping with her set the hook and he was easily entangled in his own web of sin. Sin leads to death of innocence, not only did David have Bathsheba's husband killed but the son that was born of this relationship died. 

At each crossroad David had a choice and he chose self gratification instead of seeking God's will in the situation. There was a king in place and David was the king of Israel but he wasn't seeking God as King of kings and Lord of lords to rule over his decision making - anytime we don't do that it's sin. We are separated from God due to our sin. Isaiah 59:2 But your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden his face from you, so that he will not hear.  Sin separates us from God because of His holiness. We need to be in an intimate relationship with Jesus and we need to live with Him as Lord of our lives. David made the choice when he felt the conviction of his sin to turn and repent.

In Jesus we have redemption - Romans 8:35-39 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: "For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered." No, in ALL these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. - It's spelled out Christ has a love so deep for us that he was willing to come to this world taking on flesh allowing his flesh to die on the cross bearing the full weight of our sin all sin for all time. He didn't spare himself, he didn't get entangled by his flesh but laid it down for us because of his great love he bridged the gap between God and man that sin caused. Nothing trumps Christ's love for us - may we receive the fullness of his great love and mercy and draw closer to him in an intimate way. May we seek him first and then be ready to receive every good gift he has for us. We all have fallen short of his glory and we continue to fall short. But Christ extends to us his righteousness and when we allow him to be Lord of our lives he makes us right with God.  

Ragman by Walter Wangerin, Jr

from 

"Ragman and Other Cries of Faith" 

I saw a strange sight. I stumbled 

upon a story most strange, like 

nothing my life, my street sense, 

my sly tongue had ever prepared 

me for. 

Hush, child. Hush, now, and I will 

tell it to you. Even before the 

dawn one Friday morning I noticed 

a young man, handsome and strong, 

walking the alleys of our City. 

He was pulling an old cart filled 

with clothes both bright and new, 

and he was calling in a clear, 

tenor voice:  "Rags!" (Ah, the air 

was foul and the first light filthy 

to be crossed by such sweet music.) 

"Rags! New rags for old! I take 

your tired rags! Rags!" "Now, this 

is a wonder," I thought to myself, 

for the man stood six-feet-four, 

and his arms were like tree limbs, 

hard and muscular, and his eyes 

flashed intelligence. 

Could he find no better job than 

this, to be a ragman in the inner 

city? I followed him. My curiosity 

drove me. And I wasn't disappointed. 

Soon the Ragman saw a woman sitting 

on her back porch. She was sobbing 

into a handkerchief, sighing, and 

shedding a thousand tears. Her knees 

and elbows made a sad X. Her 

shoulders shook. Her heart was 

breaking. 

The Ragman stopped his cart. Quietly, 

he walked to the woman, stepping 

round tin cans, dead toys, and 

Pampers. "Give me your rag," he 

said so gently, "and I'll give 

you another." He slipped the 

handkerchief from her eyes. She 

looked up, and he laid across her 

palm a linen cloth so clean and 

new that it shined. She blinked 

from the gift to the giver. 

Then, as he began to pull his cart 

again, the Ragman did a strange 

thing: he put her stained 

handkerchief to his own face; 

and then HE began to weep,   

to sob as grievously as she had 

done, his shoulders shaking. Yet 

she was left without a tear. 

"This IS a wonder," I breathed to 

myself , and I followed the sobbing 

Ragman like a child who cannot turn 

away from mystery. 

"Rags! Rags! New rags for old!" 

In a little while, when the sky 

showed grey behind the rooftops and 

I could see the shredded curtains 

hanging out black windows, the 

Ragman came upon a girl whose head 

was wrapped in a bandage, whose 

eyes were empty. Blood soaked her 

bandage. A single line of blood 

ran down her cheek. Now the tall 

Ragman looked upon this child with 

pity, and he drew a lovely yellow 

bonnet from his cart. 

"Give me your rag," he said, 

tracing his own line on her cheek, 

"and I'll give you mine." The child 

could only gaze at him while he 

loosened the bandage, removed it, 

and tied it to his own head. The 

bonnet he set on hers. And I gasped 

at what I saw: for with the bandage 

went the wound! Against his brow it 

ran a darker, more substantial 

blood - his own! 

"Rags! Rags! I take old rags!" cried 

the sobbing, bleeding, strong, 

intelligent Ragman. The sun hurt 

both the sky, now, and my eyes; 

the Ragman seemed more and more 

to hurry. 

"Are you going to work?" he asked 

a man who leaned against a telephone 

pole. The man shook his head 

The Ragman pressed him: "Do you have 

a job?" 

"Are you crazy?" sneeredthe other. 

He pulled away from the pole, 

revealing the right sleeve of his 

jacket - flat, the cuff stuffed into 

the pocket.  He had no arm. 

"So," said the Ragman. "Give me 

your jacket, and I'll give you 

mine." Such quiet authority in his 

voice! 

The one-armed man took off his 

jacket. So did the Ragman - and I 

trembled at what I saw: for the 

Ragman's arm stayed in its sleeve, 

and when the other put it on he 

had two good arms, thick as tree 

limbs; but the Ragman had only one. 

"Go to work," he said. 

After that he found a drunk, 

lying unconscious beneath an army 

blanket, and old man, hunched, 

wizened, and sick. He took that 

blanket and wrapped it round himself, 

but for the drunk he left new 

clothes. 

And now I had to run to keep up 

with the Ragman. Though he was 

weeping uncontrollably, and bleeding 

freely at the forehead, pulling 

his cart with one arm, stumbling for 

drunkenness, falling again and again, 

exhausted, old, and sick, yet he went 

with terrible speed. On spider's legs 

he skittered through the alleys of 

the City, this mile and the next, 

until he came to its limits, and 

then he rushed beyond. 

I wept to see the change in this 

man. I hurt to see his sorrow. And 

yet I needed to see where he was 

going in such haste, perhaps to 

know what drove him so. 

The little old Ragman - he came to 

a landfill. He came to the garbage 

pits.  And then I wanted to help 

him in what he did, but I hung back, 

hiding. 

He climbed a hill. With tormented 

labor he cleared a little space on 

that hill. Then he sighed. He lay 

down. He pillowed his head on a 

handkerchief and a jacket. He 

covered his bones with an army 

blanket. 

And he died. 

Oh, how I cried to witness that 

death!I slumped in a junked car 

and wailed and mourned as one who 

has no hope - because I had come 

to love the Ragman. 

Every other face had faded in 

the wonder of this man, and I 

cherished him; but he died.I 

sobbed myself to sleep. I did not know - how could I know? 

That I slept through Friday night 

and Saturday and its night, too. 

But then, on Sunday morning, I was 

wakened by a violence. Light - pure, 

hard, demanding light - slammed 

against my sour face,and I blinked, 

and I looked, and I saw the last 

and the first wonder of all. 

There was the Ragman, folding the 

blanket most carefully, a scar on 

his forehead, but alive! And, 

besides that, healthy! There was no 

sign of sorrow nor of age, and 

all the rags that he had gathered 

shined for cleanliness. 

Well, then I lowered my head and 

trembling for all that I had seen, 

I myself walked up to the Ragman. 

I told him my name with shame, for 

I was a sorry figure next to him. 

Then I took off all my clothes in 

that place, and I said to him with 

dear yearning in my voice: "Dress me." 

He dressed me. My Lord, he put new 

rags on me, and I am a wonder beside 

him. 

The Ragman, the Ragman, 

THE CHRIST