“Look at this,” Josiah called me over to the edge of the porch where he’d dropped his shovel while digging holes. A five-lined skink sprawled across his back. His sudden movement must have spooked the little fellow, since he scampered up over Josiah’s shoulder and disappeared down his sleeve. Truly disappeared since we couldn’t find him, though I peered under layers of shirts.
My poor head is filled with a fast and furious piano piece that I simply cannot get worked out my fingers. Parts of it come, but so much more is scrambled up somewhere between my mind and my ability. Will I ever possess enough skill to really express myself or am I just fooling myself and others?
Josiah interrupted my complaining composing with a complaint of his own. “Is he in there? That lizard. I think he’s up my shirt still—by my shoulder blade. Otherwise I’ve got some serious muscle spasms.” Compliantly I peeled his sweatshirt up and felt all over his back. Perhaps it was a secret ploy to get a back scratch. My fingers discovered nothing of the reptilian species. “I’m sure he’s not there,” I informed Josiah. “That was just after lunch. It’s been hours since then.”
Papa arrived home late from work, having run a half dozen errands on the way. That’s what happens when I don’t go into town. He walked through the door and greeted us cheerily. “What’s that lizard doing on the table?” And there he was, the little stowaway, sprawled placidly on the dinner table, critically examining our venison and cauliflower soup. Truly, the lizard you may grasp with the hand, but it is in king’s palaces.
Dissecting the scriptural record of Rahab the harlot, I was struck by her attitude of trust. “Faith is the evidence of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen,” scribbles the author of Hebrews. The description fits Rahab perfectly. Raised in a wicked city, leading a sinful life, she heard of Yahweh and His powerful works. While the rest of the city melted in terror, she hoped. Her certainty that Yahweh would prevail led her to receive His messengers in peace, risking her life to help them on their way. When she through herself upon the mercy of God, He regarded her humility and trust and offered His protection. In the beautiful unfolding of His redemption He saved her out of a wicked city devoted to destruction and made her to be a part of His people, and a thread in the scarlet cord of redemption leading to His Son. In a final tribute to her trust, the writer of Hebrews lists her beside the patriarchs and Moses, beside the prophets and judges as a hero of the faith. She was a low-down, filthy Canaanite prostitute, but she trusted in Yahweh and was not disappointed.
Lord, Thy scarlet thread of hope
Runs thickly through the tale Thou penned
Of love that runs more thick than blood
For men Thou made, though we have sinned.
And always is Thy mercy shown
To those who, helpless, seek Thy face
And dare to cling to threads of hope
That Thou wilt offer saving grace.