the turtle had rotated to view us with his seeing eye, he knew we were there. Somehow I would have to casually swim closer to the turtle long enough for him not to view my presence as a threat. In a very short time, I needed to show him I wasn’t interested in harming him.
I told Troy of my plans and asked for his help. He agreed to gently block the opposite side of the turtle to keep him circling as long as possible. By doing so, we all slowly swam together. Though I was on his blind side, the young turtle knew I was with him. He swung his ailing head in small circles, trying to locate exactly where I was. After several moments he seemed convinced I was not going to hurt him and allowed me to move closer.
I knew I would get only one chance to free this little guy, and I needed to make sure I was in the best possible position. We were runningout of time. The turtle swung his head away from me. He was already beginning his slow descent back into the depths. This was it.
I darted in and grabbed the trailing line under his carapace and wrapped it twice around my hand. The turtle felt the line pull deeper into his flesh and instinctively dove straight down, taking me with him.
Together we plunged headfirst toward blackness. My ears popped repeatedly as the gray light from the surface rapidly dimmed. Unable to reach his head as he plummeted, in a final effort I yanked as hard as I could and felt a snap.
Kicking back toward the surface, I looked at the line I’d pulled free. It was only a portion of what I knew was still snarled around the turtle. For all my good intention and effort, what I’d done hadn’t helped the turtle at all. I looked down in mounting grief as the dying turtle dove deeper into the inky water from which he had come.
My frustration rose with my tears. I had failed. A dying soul needed my help, and the best I could do was cause it more pain.
Again I questioned:
Why, God? In Your world so full of beauty, how does this senseless tragedy fit? What am I supposed to learn from this?
The rain, which had fallen softly earlier, now came down so hard that the surface of the sea appeared to boil. It seemed that even the sky was crying for this doomed turtle. The firmament appeared even more gray. My attention alternated between the fishing line still in my hand and the black abyss into which the turtle had plunged.
With rain spattering on my head, the voice of the Lord began to gently fill my heart:
Look at this consuming blackness, My child, and never forget. This is—exactly—what it looks like when you allow yourself to become entangled in sin. You become snared and infected, blinded by all you choose to value over Me
.
In moments of despair you call on My Name … and I come. Releasing you from your bondage can be painful, especially the longer you let the bonds grow into your flesh. When I try to tear your entrapments away, you have a choice. You can be still and know that I am your God. You can patiently allow Me
to free you, to heal you. Or you can turn away from Me toward your own understanding and, just like this turtle, plunge into utter darkness, toward your own destruction
.
This is what it looks like when you turn away from Me and try to solve your own problems
.
Remember
.
Remember
.
I’ve kept a fragment of that fishing line to this day.
T IME TO S TOP R UNNING
The more we run from the Lord, the more we become entangled in the traps of the enemy. We have but one escape—to stop running away and start running toward the welcoming arms of a loving God.
Sins—even “little” ones—have a way of turning into something terrible. They’re not content to stay in the corner where we believe we’ve confined them. Instead, our hoarded indulgences will mimic the invasive behavior of an abandoned kudzu vine. Left unattended, they send up growing tendrils that invade every area of our souls. Like any parasite they multiply at an alarming rate. Our sins wrap and curl a black, threadlike
I told Troy of my plans and asked for his help. He agreed to gently block the opposite side of the turtle to keep him circling as long as possible. By doing so, we all slowly swam together. Though I was on his blind side, the young turtle knew I was with him. He swung his ailing head in small circles, trying to locate exactly where I was. After several moments he seemed convinced I was not going to hurt him and allowed me to move closer.
I knew I would get only one chance to free this little guy, and I needed to make sure I was in the best possible position. We were runningout of time. The turtle swung his head away from me. He was already beginning his slow descent back into the depths. This was it.
I darted in and grabbed the trailing line under his carapace and wrapped it twice around my hand. The turtle felt the line pull deeper into his flesh and instinctively dove straight down, taking me with him.
Together we plunged headfirst toward blackness. My ears popped repeatedly as the gray light from the surface rapidly dimmed. Unable to reach his head as he plummeted, in a final effort I yanked as hard as I could and felt a snap.
Kicking back toward the surface, I looked at the line I’d pulled free. It was only a portion of what I knew was still snarled around the turtle. For all my good intention and effort, what I’d done hadn’t helped the turtle at all. I looked down in mounting grief as the dying turtle dove deeper into the inky water from which he had come.
My frustration rose with my tears. I had failed. A dying soul needed my help, and the best I could do was cause it more pain.
Again I questioned:
Why, God? In Your world so full of beauty, how does this senseless tragedy fit? What am I supposed to learn from this?
The rain, which had fallen softly earlier, now came down so hard that the surface of the sea appeared to boil. It seemed that even the sky was crying for this doomed turtle. The firmament appeared even more gray. My attention alternated between the fishing line still in my hand and the black abyss into which the turtle had plunged.
With rain spattering on my head, the voice of the Lord began to gently fill my heart:
Look at this consuming blackness, My child, and never forget. This is—exactly—what it looks like when you allow yourself to become entangled in sin. You become snared and infected, blinded by all you choose to value over Me
.
In moments of despair you call on My Name … and I come. Releasing you from your bondage can be painful, especially the longer you let the bonds grow into your flesh. When I try to tear your entrapments away, you have a choice. You can be still and know that I am your God. You can patiently allow Me
to free you, to heal you. Or you can turn away from Me toward your own understanding and, just like this turtle, plunge into utter darkness, toward your own destruction
.
This is what it looks like when you turn away from Me and try to solve your own problems
.
Remember
.
Remember
.
I’ve kept a fragment of that fishing line to this day.
T IME TO S TOP R UNNING
The more we run from the Lord, the more we become entangled in the traps of the enemy. We have but one escape—to stop running away and start running toward the welcoming arms of a loving God.
Sins—even “little” ones—have a way of turning into something terrible. They’re not content to stay in the corner where we believe we’ve confined them. Instead, our hoarded indulgences will mimic the invasive behavior of an abandoned kudzu vine. Left unattended, they send up growing tendrils that invade every area of our souls. Like any parasite they multiply at an alarming rate. Our sins wrap and curl a black, threadlike
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