January 29,
2025
Happy New Year—The Year of the Snake!
Blessed is the one
who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
or sit in the company of mockers,
but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers.
Psalm 1: 1-3
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!
Genesis 3:15
Good News Translation
[God said to the snake] 15 I will make you
and the woman hate each other; her offspring and yours will always be enemies.
Her offspring will crush your head, and you will bite her offspring's heel.”
From across the street, Shirley came breathlessly into our
house yesterday. I was in my office in the back of the house. All I could hear
was impassioned conversation between Shirley and Sylvia. Finally, curious, I
walked into the front room. Shirley described how her grown son, Ivan, who was
on his way out the door, said: “Be careful when you walk out into the backyard.
There’s a rattlesnake out there.”
“Well, aren’t you going to do something?” she asked in half
panic.
“Nah,” He drawled, “Just be careful where you walk,” and he
was out the door.
Shirley told me she placed a tub over the snake and came
over to our house. Her breath was short, and her whole demeanor radiated
distress!
Rattlesnakes live in the hills around our neighborhood.
Katie and I find them occasionally. I have taught her to beware of them and
give them wide berth. She can sense a bit of alarm and warning in my demeanor
when I see the snake. I do fear that she will try and protect me by rushing in
and attacking the snake—which would be a fatal move on her part. So far, she
has yielded to my commands. I don’t kill the snakes in the hills—I feel that
they serve a purpose in keeping the vermin down. And I sense that I am in their
territory. But when they come into our area, they are out of line. I have been
instrumental in getting those snakes killed. All my neighbors concur with this
decision.
“Is it in the open?” I knew what I had to do.
“It’s under the tub! Oh. I’m scared!” she shivered, “What
can we do?”
“Give me a minute!” and I walked towards the back door.
“What are you going to do?” she was desperate and figured I
was doing like Ivan and leaving her to it.
“I’m going to fetch a spade,” I said matter-of-factly.
“He’s going to kill the snake!” Sylvia had no doubts. She has
lived with me long enough to understand me.
Shirley led me around to the back of her house. There I saw
a little red plastic tub lying upside down in the mowed grass. I looked at
Shirley, “You’re brave to have done that! Good for you!”
I stuck the blade of the spade under the edge of the tub and
flipped it. A large western red diamondback rattlesnake immediately began to
take up attack mode. The first thing I noticed was that it had no rattles. The
snake moved rapidly, and my first strike hit it about a foot down from its
head, breaking its back. It’s wide-open mouth, fangs protruding, struck the
spade. My second strike severed the head from the body, leaving it hanging by
only a bit of skin.
“Wow! You’re so brave,” Shirley cooed, “Now what are we
going to do?”
“Do you have a bag?”
She brought a plastic garbage bag stuck in a large paper bag
and stuck it in a cardboard box. She placed this on the ground nearby and made
sure the garbage bag was wide open. I picked up the snake by its rattle less
tail and dropped it into the bag, tied it shut, and placed it in her garbage
bin. I’ve heard that in some parts of the U.S., rattlesnakes are evolving into rattle
less rattlesnakes. This has me concerned because rattlesnakes have always
warned those who approach of their presence by their rattles. If that happens
around here, it will make hiking in the desert more dangerous.
Satan, the old serpent, has been attempting to camouflage
his presence, even getting the more gullible to deny his very existence. In
this way they are not prepared for his attacks.
Preserve us, Lord, from the devil and save us from sin,
so we will be ready for Your soon return.
John 1:5
Good News Translation
5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put
it out.
I stood there. No one was awake at night, and no electricity
existed within 25 miles at that hour. No vehicles of any kind were on the road.
Nyamuswa was pitch black. There were no phones, not even at home. Cell phones
had not been invented. No one knew when I was coming. There was no way I could lug
my heavy luggage the three miles to my home at Ikizu on foot. I knew no one in
the hamlet. There was no gas station, no café.
Puzzled, I stood there in the night. I hadn’t planned what I
would do at this point. Stars were bright in the moonless sky. They made the
white-washed walls of the buildings visible, ghostly visible. About four or
five low thatched roof buildings down on the right was the maternity clinic
that always had several women with complications awaiting their babies. There
would be a caretaker there in case an emergency happened at night.
My mind clutched at a faint hope. Maybe I could awaken her
and leave my bags there. Of course, men were not welcome there, day or night. Every
idiot knew that! I was a foreigner, mzungu. Maybe, just maybe, I could
persuade her to let me store my bags there.
I trudged up to the dark, heavy wooden door. “Hodi!” I
called loudly. I knocked on the door—no one knocks on a door; they always call “Hodi!”
After repeated calling, a highly suspicious voice replied “Ni
nani?” (“Who’s there?”)
“Ni Wilton Clarke kutoka Ikizu!” (“I’m Wilton Clarke from
Ikizu.”) With that I had practically exhausted my Swahili. Fortunately, she
spoke more English than I did Swahili. After some protracted talking, she understood
that I just wanted to leave my bags in her clinic until the next morning. She
showed me where to put them, and I left her with a heartfelt “Asante sana!” I
would be lying if I said there was not a hint of a worry as to whether I would
see them the next morning.
Elsewhere I tell about how the military had been called to Nyamuswa,
and they had shot 9 elephants in the Nyamuswa gardens, so wild animals did come
into this area every so often. I hadn’t heard any actual reports about animals
recently, but I did know that leopards would roam where ever they pleased and
that they often killed just for the thrill of killing. Of course, you’ve heard
about poisonous snakes and other undesirables. All of these things were in my
mind as I started to walk, by starlight, the three miles home.
It was bright enough so I could see where the road surface
was. The stars were brilliant. Orion was high in the sky along with its
accompanying constellations. The Milky Way was spectacular. So, I really did
enjoy the walk. I let myself into the house shortly after three o’clock. Sylvia
expressed surprise and joy at seeing me. Later that morning I went back and
picked up my bags. They had been moved but were totally unmolested.
Thank You, Lord, for the beauty of a still, dark night
with a bit of tension yet filled with Your care.
[1]
https://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/light-pollution-star-night-sky-england-rural-census-orion-campaign-a8873096.html
