King Koi
I haven't felt much like writing lately. Maybe because I am still looking for the LIFE nozzle so I can turn down the fire-hose spray to something a bit more manageable. My brain just can't really keep up any more so I'm just giving up and letting it go by. But then I feel like I'm missing something. Like I'll look back at this time period in my life and think...what happened again? Did I learn anything? And then it will fade away into the distance as time marches on.
With that said, here is at least one life lesson I've been thinking about in the last few weeks. It doesn't involve my foot, or children, or people, or evangelistic crusades...although I'm sure I have many things I could say about all of those. It's about a dog. A dog named King Kong, but nicknamed King Koi.
I first met King Koi as a puppy, when I came to Yap in 2010. He belonged to one of the faculty kids, but of course, all of us got to enjoy his cuteness AND his annoying habit of stealing shoes. When I was feeling kind of down, I would pick him up and pet him, and he would just lay in my lap and fall asleep. He wasn't super hyper or bite-y like most puppies--probably because he was sickly. I was convinced at first that he wouldn't make it more than two weeks. His fur was falling off, and he was bloated. He looked awful. I was actually quite surprised to return to Yap and find him--much bigger, and maybe even a bit healthier. Maybe. He was also a bit uglier, with his small eyes, and huge bat-ears, and crooked tail--bless his heart. But just as sweet and gentle, although he can still act tough with his mean bark.
For the first part of the year, I loved petting King Koi. I don't know if he remembered me or not, but he would always come over to visit if he saw me. But when I returned from my "dengue break," he had a little wound on the tip of his ear, and it was oozing blood. I thought it would heal, but it hasn't because he's always shaking his head and flapping those giant ears, or scratching it--so it's always open, always bleeding. And now, sadly...I don't love it when King Koi comes over to visit. He is still sweet, still affectionate...I just don't want the affection. I don't want his nasty blood touching anything on me. King Koi is "unclean." I try to talk nicely to him, but all I am really doing is whining and telling him to go away nicely. It's a good thing he can't understand what I am saying, or his feeling would probably be hurt even more than they already are. Sometimes I wonder if he feels lonely. Maybe he doesn't understand why people used to like to pet him and give him attention, and now, no matter what he does, everyone rejects him. It breaks my heart...but I still haven't done anything to try to help him, and the nicest thing I do is barely touch his head with one or two fingers.
This really made me think of me--as someone who has been wounded by sin, and my wound is always festering because everything I try to do to fix it just makes it worse. I don't even realize how disgusting my wounds look to an absolutely perfect and holy God. In fact, it's not until I see His perfection, that I also see my imperfection. What would happen if God treated me the way I treat King Koi? If He was disgusted when I prayed, and always tried to avoid me. I am so glad that the Bible describes a God who is not like that. Yes, sin is disgusting and repulsive to Him--but He doesn't reject me because of it. Instead, He sent Jesus. Jesus, the guy who hung out with tax collectors and prostitutes...yes, "sinners." Jesus, the one who touched the "unclean" lepers and made them clean, who replaced death with life with a simple command. Jesus. So He sent Jesus to hold me in His arms, to gently wash away the dirt and infection and blood--in fact, wash all of me--and bandage up my wound and care for it until it is healed. In fact, not only that, the Bible says He actually took that wound from me. So He got my wound, and I am healed, appearing perfect before God. And there is now nothing separating us from a healthy relationship...forever.
I wish King Koi could have such a good ending to his story.
With that said, here is at least one life lesson I've been thinking about in the last few weeks. It doesn't involve my foot, or children, or people, or evangelistic crusades...although I'm sure I have many things I could say about all of those. It's about a dog. A dog named King Kong, but nicknamed King Koi.
I first met King Koi as a puppy, when I came to Yap in 2010. He belonged to one of the faculty kids, but of course, all of us got to enjoy his cuteness AND his annoying habit of stealing shoes. When I was feeling kind of down, I would pick him up and pet him, and he would just lay in my lap and fall asleep. He wasn't super hyper or bite-y like most puppies--probably because he was sickly. I was convinced at first that he wouldn't make it more than two weeks. His fur was falling off, and he was bloated. He looked awful. I was actually quite surprised to return to Yap and find him--much bigger, and maybe even a bit healthier. Maybe. He was also a bit uglier, with his small eyes, and huge bat-ears, and crooked tail--bless his heart. But just as sweet and gentle, although he can still act tough with his mean bark.
For the first part of the year, I loved petting King Koi. I don't know if he remembered me or not, but he would always come over to visit if he saw me. But when I returned from my "dengue break," he had a little wound on the tip of his ear, and it was oozing blood. I thought it would heal, but it hasn't because he's always shaking his head and flapping those giant ears, or scratching it--so it's always open, always bleeding. And now, sadly...I don't love it when King Koi comes over to visit. He is still sweet, still affectionate...I just don't want the affection. I don't want his nasty blood touching anything on me. King Koi is "unclean." I try to talk nicely to him, but all I am really doing is whining and telling him to go away nicely. It's a good thing he can't understand what I am saying, or his feeling would probably be hurt even more than they already are. Sometimes I wonder if he feels lonely. Maybe he doesn't understand why people used to like to pet him and give him attention, and now, no matter what he does, everyone rejects him. It breaks my heart...but I still haven't done anything to try to help him, and the nicest thing I do is barely touch his head with one or two fingers.
This really made me think of me--as someone who has been wounded by sin, and my wound is always festering because everything I try to do to fix it just makes it worse. I don't even realize how disgusting my wounds look to an absolutely perfect and holy God. In fact, it's not until I see His perfection, that I also see my imperfection. What would happen if God treated me the way I treat King Koi? If He was disgusted when I prayed, and always tried to avoid me. I am so glad that the Bible describes a God who is not like that. Yes, sin is disgusting and repulsive to Him--but He doesn't reject me because of it. Instead, He sent Jesus. Jesus, the guy who hung out with tax collectors and prostitutes...yes, "sinners." Jesus, the one who touched the "unclean" lepers and made them clean, who replaced death with life with a simple command. Jesus. So He sent Jesus to hold me in His arms, to gently wash away the dirt and infection and blood--in fact, wash all of me--and bandage up my wound and care for it until it is healed. In fact, not only that, the Bible says He actually took that wound from me. So He got my wound, and I am healed, appearing perfect before God. And there is now nothing separating us from a healthy relationship...forever.
I wish King Koi could have such a good ending to his story.
I hope he does too, Andrea. Thanks for sharing the story. It does make one stop and ponder the grace of God all over again.
ReplyDeleteThat gave me a new picture for understanding my sin in light of God's grace. Thank you, Andrea. I love the happy ending of our story.
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