Eaten by a Snake

 

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Matthew 10:16 Contemporary English Version

¹⁶  I am sending you like lambs into a pack of wolves. So be as wise as snakes and as innocent as doves.

 

When Dad was teaching at Helderberg College, we lived in one of their houses across the valley from the college. It was one of a row of five houses nestled in a peach orchard. On occasion the farm manger, Lionel Webster, would have the ground ploughed between the peach trees to keep the weeds down. On those occasions I would set out, barefoot, through the freshly ploughed clods to my friend John Raitt who lived next door.  I would take frequent, short steps and trample out a path we could use to visit each other.

On one such occasion, I came across a small snake. Much like young Gerald Durrell on Corfu, I was enamored by the wealth of plants and wildlife that flourished in the Western Cape of South Africa. I already knew about many of the venomous African snakes such as puff adders, cobras, and boomslangs. I didn’t even think of these snakes as I leaned over and picked this snake up by the tail. This one was clearly not one of those poisonous serpents.

I held it up by the tail, intrigued by three lumps under its skin, each about a handsbreadth apart from the other. The snake’s head was well off the ground, even though I was only about seven years old. I held it out at arm’s length and watched, entranced, as the little lumps slid slowly down the snake’s body towards its head. Suddenly the naked, slime covered, pink body of a baby mouse came out of the snake’s mouth and dropped gently to the ground. This tiny pink, furless mouse was galvanized into immediate action. It raced towards the nearest dark gap under the clods and disappeared from sight. Looking back at the snake I was delighted to see a second lump materialize into another naked pink body that also disappeared under the clods. The third lump followed suit.

I dropped the snake and knelt on the soft ground to see what had happened to the baby mice. They had totally disappeared. I have long since wondered how they could have lived in the body of a snake for who knows how long with no air and whether they died because they had no fur and so dried up into a frizzle or actually survived and lived the normal life of a mouse.

I also can’t help but think of how Satan is often compared to a snake. He wanders around doing his best to gobble up innocent souls. Then, sometimes, along comes a messenger of God and releases the soul to give it another chance at life. If we are fortunate to be released, do we dash away from Satan's fearsome grip?

Thank You, Lord, for freeing us from the pitiless clutch of Satan and aiding us as we dash away!

 

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[1] http://gallery.kingsnake.com/data/68690DCP_0757.JPG

Hold Out to the End

 

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Matthew 24:12-13 Good News Translation

¹² Such will be the spread of evil that many people's love will grow cold. ¹³ But whoever holds out to the end will be saved.

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While a student at Andrews University, I discovered the joys of being in an academic environment. Many of the students had interests in all kinds of things; curiosity was popular and encouraged. I had discovered the fulfilment that came from picking up languages. In high school I learned Afrikaans and could speak it fluently. Then as a sophomore in college, I found myself at Seminar Marienhöhe sweating to learn German. By the end of the semester, I was speaking it fairly easily. At the end of that semester, my brother Elwood and I were shipping out to the States through Rotterdam in the Netherlands. From a Bbile Society booth, I picked up the gospel of Mark in Dutch. Totally unaware of the pitfalls of language, I spent several weeks reading the gospel and, using my Afrikaans to understand the meanings of the words, wrote up a grammar for Dutch and felt pretty good about knowing the language. When I got to Holland, I quickly discovered that I had done well and understood all that was being spoken. However, it took a couple days to pin down the fact that the Dutch I had taught myself so diligently was very old fashioned. It was like King James English—understandable, but totally outdated. The gospel I had used was probably the Statenvertaling of the Bible and was published in 1637! However, by the end of four days, I was getting around very well in modern Dutch.

At Andrews the Greek scholar, Leona Running, announced that she would be teaching New Testament Greek on Friday evenings in the Seminary Chapel. As a kid I had spent a lot of time delving into various historical fonts and knew the Greek alphabet very well. So, I showed up to the Seminary Chapel and got myself a seat near the front. The chapel filled up so there was standing room only as Dr. Running began her first lecture. She had me enthralled. I observed, in total surprise, that over the next ten weeks there were significantly fewer attendees at each meeting. For the last few meetings there were only about four of us attending. Prof. Running was not surprised.

About ten years later, I was a graduate student at the University of Iowa working on my PhD in mathematics. I was toying with going to teach math at Middle East College in Beirut, Lebanon. Two Egyptian students at the university announced a “class” in Egyptian Arabic. I signed up and made excellent progress in Arabic. Again, I noticed the same phenomenon as in the Greek class. The first meeting or two we had a huge class, but towards the end there were only a handful of people who were still coming. I did not go to Lebanon; instead, I went to Helderberg College in South Africa. However, I’ve often wondered how I would have done with Egyptian Arabic in Lebanon. As it is, I never used the Arabic and so have forgotten it, except for some cognates of Swahili words I had learned during five years teaching math and learning Swahili in Tanzania.

In Biblical stories, remember Noah’s Ark? I have a feeling that when Noah started building it, he had a large number of helpers. However, as more than a century went by, many helpers’ love or enthusiasm grew cold, and they deserted him. Eventually only three of his sons, and he probably had many, entered the ark with their wives and were saved. Most of the antediluvial patriarchs started their families during their first or second centuries, whereas Noah’s sons Shem, Ham, and Japheth were all born around the beginning of his seventh century. Very likely he had other children during his younger years, but they never went into the ark to be saved. That must have been tragic for Noah and his wife.

Christ was aware of our human nature to start things but then give up along the way. Hence His encouragement in our text.

Continue to remind me, Lord, that I must hang in there with You, or all of our cooperation of effort will be in vain.

 

[1] https://blissfulroad.com/the-importance-of-persistence-in-achieving-your-goals/

Lively Stones in the Spiritual House

 

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1 Peter 2:5 (King James Version)

 ⁵Ye also, as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.

 

Growing up in the South Africa of apartheid I attended a white school. The law insisted that I do so. I attended the Helderberg College Church. Our family always sat on the front row. This was ostensibly because my grandfather was hard of hearing, which he was. But we continued the practice even after he had died.

White students and white families filled the church. Because there was no church nearby that the blacks could attend, they were allowed to come to our church. But they had to sit in the very back row of the balcony. Up there they would not be noticed by guests coming to our church.

When I was twelve, my grandfather died. Our family moved from South Africa to Solusi, a black school in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Here all of the white missionaries sat in the front few rows of church. This was to set an example to the “poor benighted” blacks who filled the rest of the church. We wore suits and ties. Our shoes were polished. Our hair was neatly combed.

I knew that many of the missionaries really sat in the front so that they would not be contaminated by coming into contact with the blacks. They seemed afraid to be too closely associated with people who came to church barefoot because they owned no shoes. Afraid that their “Sabbath” dresses and suits might brush against the only dress or shirt a person owned, and in which they had walked maybe a mile or more so that they could go to church.

I was, of course, not immune to picking up on some of this superior attitude. As a child growing up in the home of a college teacher at Helderberg, I felt superior to the poor kids who were simply students living in a dormitory. We all felt superior to the blacks sitting in the back row of the balcony to whom no one deigned to speak. They were a real embarrassment to the church.

Once in a while I would express something that hinted at my feeling of superiority. My mother would call me aside, look me square in the eye, and say in tones of rebuke: “You didn’t make yourself white!” Often this would be followed by a pointed lecture about my real place in society. We were simply each one a stone that God was building into a His spiritual house.

In Rhodesia we didn’t have the strict apartheid laws. On a regular basis Mom would invite the older (black) people into our home for a feast. She made no bones about the fact that these women were her friends. Other missionary families, trying to preserve their thin veneer of superiority, frowned on this practice. Nor would any show their faces near our home during one of Mom’s feasts. The local people loved her. They regarded her as their friend, too.

After working in Africa for 40 years, my parents’ time came to return to America for rest and retirement. But Mom’s heart couldn’t take the impending separation from her friends. Six weeks before they were scheduled to leave, she had a heart attack. Now she is buried amongst her friends in Africa; one stone amongst the many in the spiritual house God is still building.

Help me remember, Lord, that in Your sight I could count as nothing, but You have given me the honor of being a stone in the spiritual house You are building.

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[1] https://www.standout-cabin-designs.com/small-stone-cottages.html

Grace vs. False Accuser

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Galatians 6:1 Good News Translation

6 My friends, if someone is caught in any kind of wrongdoing, those of you who are spiritual should set him right; but you must do it in a gentle way. And keep an eye on yourselves, so that you will not be tempted, too.

 

We arrived at Helderberg College near the end of January, 1976. I had been hired to teach math and computer science there. Folks there warmly welcomed us, and we moved into a house on campus. We appreciated coming from a Michigan winter into full blown summer with temperatures reaching over 100º (40º C).

We took our oldest child, Esther, down to Helderberg Primary School and registered her and got her a uniform to wear. She seemed to enjoy going to school and making friends there.

A week or so later we got a call from Children Services. They told us that they knew that we had a child of school age and that we were subject to a fine for keeping her out of school. I was stunned. Someone was after our blood. After informing them that Esther was indeed in school, they calmed down, and we never heard any more about it. I’m sure they checked in with her school and found out that what I told them was correct.

We could stand on our front porch and view the beautiful, blue False Bay forming a grand panorama in front of us; framed by Table Mountain and the Cape peninsula on our right and the Hottentots Holland Mountains reaching out into the Indian Ocean on our left. Behind us towered Helderberg Mountain on whose slopes our home was built.[2]

This was the beginning of our tenure at Helderberg. A string of little things made what should have been a wonderful time in what is truly one of the most beautiful sites in the world, the winter of our existence.

Many of the Christians there believed in a judgmental Christ. They drove themselves nearly to death trying to keep all the biblical law in order that they might somehow earn their way into heaven. It is a discouraging life and often makes the practitioners very critical of everyone else.

The book of Galatians in the Bible contains Paul’s scolding of those who try to live by the law. He emphasizes that we are saved by grace through believing in Jesus Christ. In chapter 3, Paul calls the Galatians foolish for trying to earn their way into heaven. Many of those trying to earn heaven become critical believers. They even refuse to accept Galatians as an inspired part of the Bible; therefore, they don’t read it. Some of them warned me about reading the book and told me I should be aware that it would land me in hell for sure.

I encourage you to take your Bible and read Galatians and form your own opinion of it. Try reading it in several different translations just to get the feel of it.

Lord, thank You for giving us salvation through Your Son Jesus Christ. Help us to love all of Your children and treat them gently.

 

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[1] https://travel.sygic.com/en/poi/false-bay-poi:20406237

[2]  The Hottentot Holland Mountains stretch from the left edge of the picture all the way across the center of the picture until they plunge into the ocean on the right. About a third of the way across the picture is a tiny spur with round rocks pointing upwards: this spur is Helderberg Mountain. Our home was on the right most slope of this mountain,

The Glory of the Stars

Psalm 23:4

King James Version

⁴ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;

 

On his 85^th birthday, Grampa suffered a stroke. He deteriorated gradually until in his fifth week, he lapsed into a coma. He had become a very good friend of mine. Two years before, I had become very interested in the stars and astronomy. Dad taught at Helderberg College in South Africa, and the college librarian, Mrs. Gorle was a friend of our family, so she welcomed me into the library as a full-fledged member. I methodically read book after book in the astronomy section of the library. Grampa watched me reading these books.

Concerned, he said to me one day, “What are you reading?”

Enthusiastically I told him what I knew about the stars and planets.

“You know,” he said, “Stars are only balls of gas; they’re not really important to your life. You’re just wasting your time.”

This didn’t deter me; my interest had been piqued. One day I came home with a book entitled Astronomy and the Bible, published, if I remember correctly, about 1905. Interested, as usual in what I was reading, he picked it up and read the title. Then he leafed through the book. He had the habit of studying the Bible every day, and the title caught his interest.

“Mind if I borrow this?” He asked.

“Go right ahead, Grampa!” I encouraged him

He disappeared into his room and read it from cover to cover. The fascination of astronomy had caught him, too. Now he was competing with his ten-year old grandson to get the next astronomy book from the library. One day he came back with a brand-spanking-new copy of The Glory of the Stars, by Merlin L Neff, that the library had just put on their shelves. I was super excited and not a little jealous that he had found it before I did. We both read it and had a lot to talk about together.

Now, not much more than a year later, he lay in his bed dying. One morning he woke up from the coma. People gathered around, and visited with them on a one-by-one basis. Then he asked for me. I went in. He was as lucid as he had always been, although he was very weak. “Wilton, as you can see, I’m dying. Promise me that you will see me again in heaven.”

I promised. I was not yet a baptized Christian, but I promised and meant it. He died later on that day.

By your grace only, Lord, I am relying on You to help me keep that promise. And I ask you, Dear Reader, to make that same promise!

 

 

You Will Trample Snakes

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Psalm 91:13 

Good News Translation (GNT)

¹³ You will trample down lions and snakes,
    fierce lions and poisonous snakes.

On a pleasant Saturday afternoon in the late 1970s I took the family walking on the slopes of Helderberg Mountain. We were on a logging road with a tall bank on one side and a steep downhill slope on the other. I was curious about what was on the bank, so I ran and jumped and hooked both hands on the top. Then I pulled myself up until my head came up level with the top.

There, staring me straight in the face no more than six inches from my nose was the face of a puff adder. It was looking me straight in the eye, and its tongue was frantically flicking in and out. This puff adder was fully grown, maybe three feet long and as big around as my wrist. Its bright yellow color showed it had recently shed its old skin. Puff adders can strike from any position without coiling first and have the reputation that a person or animal, once bitten, dies very quickly.

Deciding instantaneously that I had seen enough, I pushed myself back away from the bank and dropped onto the logging trail below. Although they strike extremely rapidly, they are otherwise somewhat slow and methodical. So we walked away from the spot and enjoyed the rest of our outing.

That evening we invited a bunch of science and math students to our home where we made popcorn and homemade ice cream with a hand cranked White Mountain freezer. This was a favorite Saturday night entertainment, and many students came and brought their current romantic interests. While we were talking and playing games, I mentioned my close encounter to the group. Some of them got very excited. One of them used to catch puff adders and turn them in to a place where they were milked for venom to make anti-venom serum.

The next afternoon about four or five students came to our house and then hiked up to where I had found the puff adder. One of them carried a forked stick, and another brought a hessian sack to put the snake into. We climbed the bank at a different place and then crept up on the snake. It was still lying in the same spot soaking up the sunshine. One of the boys pinned the snake down behind its head with the forked stick. Then another brought the sack up. I took one side of the sack opening while he held the other, and we brought it up to the head of the snake.

Being more careless than I should have been, I allowed my hand to get close enough to the snake’s head so that it struck at my hand even though it was still pinned down by the forked stick. I felt the edge of its mouth strike the end of my thumb. Fortunately my thumb was not quite close enough for a fang to pierce my skin. Needless to say, my thumb did not remain there for a second attack. The students and I quickly got the snake into the sack, and we hiked back home.

Thank you, Lord, for being ready to rescue me even when I’m being careless with a death dealing snake!

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[i] https://www.pinterest.cl/pin/353251164519422743/?lp=true

[ii] http://itsnature.org/ground/reptiles-land/puff-adder/