It is the end of a long week. I am tired. I am sick. I am forcing myself
to get through the rest of the necessary work for the day. Finally the
work is done. I walk to the house and see a mat laying outside. "Should
I pick it up so it doesn't get stolen over the weekend?" I ask myself.
"I'm so tired," I respond to myself, "I think it can stay there. Chances
are it will be OK. Besides, Sabbath is almost here and I need to bathe
and be ready."
"Go pick up that mat," I hear a strong impression in my thoughts.
"I think I'll just leave it. I'm tired." I walk toward the door now.
Again, came the unmistakable impression: "GO PICK UP THAT MAT."
"OK, I'll do it," I think to myself.
As I lift a corner of the mat start to fold it, I look for scorpions as
is my habit every time I move something on the ground. Something catches
my eye. It is a small snake. It coils its body, leans it's head back,
and flares its neck as wide as it can. It strikes toward me a couple
times, but is small enough to not reach anywhere close to me. As far as
I can tell, it is a small cobra. Near him is a tiny baby mouse,
apparently immobilized by venom, but not eaten yet.
I whack the snake on the head with a piece of metal I find laying near
me and he dies.
As I reflect on this seemingly ordinary event, I see the love and mercy
of God. If I had not moved the mat, I would not have seen the snake.
And perhaps Gideon or some other person would have been bitten by that
snake had the mat not been moved until after the weekend. I thank God
for the voice of the Holy Spirit.
When He speaks, listen.
