The Blueberries and the Frog

Two blueberry bushes in the garden have been there for two years. Previously there were never any berries ripening to maturity because I didn’t cover them, and the fat birds had a feast. This year I reckoned it was my turn for a feast. So I stretched a green plastic netting over the top to allow them to ripen in the sunshine.

Last week Don found a bird dead in the netting, strangled. We hated that, but I was still eager to bring in a berry harvest so left the netting on.

Today I went out to bring in what might be ready and noticed something which I took to be a mushroom having grown up through the netting. It’s been wet on and off the last few days. I flicked the netting up and realized how heavy this brown blob was, and then it started to flail about.

To my horror I recognized a wee frog entangled in the plastic netting. I zipped into the house for scissors and spent a quarter of an hour gently snipping green plastic, first freeing his feet, then his body. Poor wee thing was desperate to escape and began trying to hop, which made me fear for its safety as it too might have strangled itself.

Nothing else for it. I had to gently cradle the frog’s body in my left hand and snip away at the tangled mess under its heaving chest, finally releasing the last bit of plastic gripping his neck. And he was free. 

I was delighted to see him hop away, first rather tentatively. Maybe he was just exhausted. Who knows how long he had struggled in the trap of mesh. Once he’d regained his breath, or his strength, he clambered off into the undergrowth fringe of weeds. 

Our heavenly father often finds us trapped in sin, strangling as we struggle to escape. We must look a bit like frogs (in other words, not exceptionally beautiful!) but our father gently picks us up (without garden gloves, too!) and tenderly disentangles us, bit by bit, until we can stagger off to live another day.

I’m still enjoying the sense of success from freeing the trapped frog. I hope that our heavenly father has a moment now and then to savour the sense of satisfaction from freeing another of his children from the grip of sin. 

We are so blessed. And I am thankful.

Hearts of Flesh

Hypocrisy is one of the most undesirable traits a person can have. Originally it was the word for an actor in ancient Greece, and didn’t carry the negative connotations of dishonesty which it now does. 

Although it’s one of the least desirable traits, and one from which we all would like to be distanced – especially in ourselves, I think it’s very easy for us to be hypocritical in one way or another, to one degree or another. 

Jesus calls us to honesty and truth, the opposites of hypocrisy. While it may be our aim as Christians to be totally honest and truthful, without the Spirit’s help we don’t stand much chance of really being that. 

Paul writes to the Corinthian church that God once gave out a set of rules in the form of commandments written on stone tablets, but that didn’t work. It didn’t work because we are not very good at following rules. Anyone who has raised a child knows that as soon as you say ‘Don’t....’ it becomes the child’s focus to do it.

So God’s tactic changed and after Jesus returned to heaven, he sent the Holy Spirit to, in a sense, be written on the hearts of believers. God had indicated that as a future plan way back thousands of years ago through the prophet Isaiah, when he said that in the last days he would pour out his Spirit on all believers, who would then dream dreams, prophesy, and be full of the knowledge and love of God.

It’s a glorious summer day up here in the northeast of Scotland, and as Dusty and I emerged from the cool shadow of the woods and onto the sunlit path, we found first one wee frog along the path, resting and soaking in the warm sunlight, then another, and finally a third. The last two were hopping around in the long grass, failing to absorb the warmth of the sun which the first wee frog was basking in.

Christians should be like the first frog. Resting in and soaking up the presence of God, not hopping about in our own power, trying to be good, trying to think good thoughts, but deep down, having hearts which still have at least a few pockets of stone which make us judgmental and critical. 

It’s only as we rest in the light of God that our hearts of stone are transformed into hearts of flesh, and our thoughts and impulses match our actions. 

So I’m off to rest in the presence of God for awhile. I don’t want to be a hypocrite with a heart of stone. I want a heart of flesh.