Even though there are many parallels between the story of the crate and the story of Easter, I’m very cautious about drawing any direct comparisons; what happened on that morning centuries ago changed the world, I’m just hoping to influence a small part of it.
When dad was growing up, looong hours on the pews gave ample opportunity to find humor in the Bible; you can only spend so much time looking at the pictures in the middle or the naps in the back. One particular instance was the story of Lazarus, when it was said that he had been dead four days and “he stinketh”. “Stinketh”? I can imagine that the scribes had to giggle like little schoolgirls when translating that from the original Hebrew; I know dad still does.
Well, that word surely described me, as I was in the crate much longer than four days. Poor Zach, his truck smelled like the devil’s armpit for weeks after giving me a ride home; I’m sure a tomb would have smelled like a Febreze factory in comparison. Nevertheless, a new life awaited and there is no vestige remaining of the crippled, starving dog I was then.
Ever feel that way yourself? It can be a harsh awakening to discover we’re so far gone that we stinketh, but whether you chew your way out of your crate as I attempted, or someone releases you from it, be assured that a new life awaits; I have to think that when Jesus resurrected Lazarus, he also took care of the whole aroma issue at the same time.
It can be the same for you; there is no reason that any of us have to bear the stink of our previous crates; hope riseth in the morning, but I prefer to sleep in…