Tag: animal kingdom

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Hungering On

We humans are different from other creatures – birds and fish, beasts making up earth’s animal kingdom. As with animals, humans do of course get hungry. We grow thirsty. We are fueled with a drive to reproduce.

And yet.

We stand much apart from the families of cows and of dogs and of giraffes.

Humans have souls. Another way of putting it is we are souls. Among the most ancient writings found in what is called “wisdom literature” – we are offered a remarkable idea. Human beings are created as “image bearers” of God.

This is a big thought. That we share important qualities found inside the nature of God himself. Though we certainly are not God, nor could we ever become God.

Ancient Bible texts make the bold claim, “So God created human beings in his own image. In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27 NLT).

For some of our readers, such an idea as this may come as a new thought. Let us look a little closer.

Assume that we are made by God for relationship with him. If so, such a condition might give rise to a certain nagging hunger within us. Such a hunger does exist. It is a kind of hunger straining within every culture and among every generation. We grapple with the yearning again and again. We are hungry creatures indeed.

For me, my hunger for God went like this.

In my most quiet and private and honest moments I sensed a “knowing” – an awareness that something was missing.

“What if the something is God” I wondered, “my designer, my maker, a someone who keeps me going?”

Opening the ancient texts (the Bible) my questions continued. . .

“What if God is the one being in all the cosmos who knows me through and through? “And suppose, furthermore, that he is perfectly wise and is the full embodiment of what we feebly call love.

“What if he has fashioned me so that he and I – along with others – may actually enter a living relationship together. Growing ever richer in peace and joy (inseparable companions of love), continuing on and on forever?”

This was, I realized, what the Bible was telling me.

My appetite grew.

(c)2022 Jerry Lout

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Qualities that Count. ‘Attentiveness

Attentive –  thinking about or watching something carefully : paying careful attention to something.  merriam-webster

  My son, be attentive to my wisdom; incline your ear to my understanding, Proverbs 5:1

 A mark of sensible intelligence is paying attention (attentiveness) to wisdom. Being with wise people, reading wisdom literature, practicing being wise; all these lead toward a good life.  Attentiveness can even make a difference in the animal kingdom. As my friend, Ben, saw in Uganda.

* * *

The house cat, her eyes trained upward to an adjoining room, lowered  her body along the floor.  Assuming a stalking posture, she began her move.

Ben – a young missionary living with his uncle and aunt in Kampala – sat his beverage aside.  This could be interesting.

Seated where he was, Ben could take in the full view. He intertwined his fingers behind his head and watched.

A large circular bird cage hung on a secure hook from the living room ceiling. On a simple roost in the cage sat an African Gray parrot. The house cat licked her lips.

Ben’s uncle and aunt owned a third pet, as well – a dog – which, at the moment, was nowhere in sight.

The cat was viewed by the canine as a bothersome presence – so would find herself at times racing through the house – the dog barking in hot pursuit.

A straight-backed chair had been left directly under the parrot cage – a detail not lost on the cat. She leapt onto the chair and placed her front paws atop its back support. Her leaping advantage established, she eyed the bird a final moment. Before pandemonium struck.

Unknown to the predator house-cat, the Gray was a keen observer. Not only was she taking in her every move, from her perch she had often watched the dog-and-cat-chase through the house.

Suddenly, the bird dropped to the cage floor, raced round and round on it. And vigorously barked – perfectly mimicking the dog’s strong bark.

Throwing his head back, Ben broke into a long, rollicking laugh – as a shrieking bundle of fur bolted through an open door to freedom.

©2016 Jerry Lout

 

 

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Foreboding

The further up-river we had driven the more we had felt the VW straining against a different-textured sand, more refined. The VW bogged down. Again and again. My friend’s idea made sense,

“Whichever of us is driving the Bug while the other pushes it, the driver must not slow the vehicle, no matter what.”

Simple enough. . . The guy behind the car, the one pushing, will likely hoof his way out, reuniting with car and driver out on the bank. We could then happily leave our water-less tributary behind us. We simply had to get the VW out of here and back to the dusty road. All this, of course, in the dead of night.

My turn to push.

“Come on, little bug”, I coaxed, my energy seeming to drain out my boot soles. John’s foot to the accelerator, the vehicle picked up speed.

“Good”, I panted, “keep going, keep going.” Traction picked up and my Kiwi partner shifted to second gear. The car was on its way. My reserves now spent, I couldn’t marshal strength needed to leap aboard the rear bumper as I had wanted. Unreasonable thought.

Shoulders adroop, I waved John on. The car gained more speed and as the distance between us grew I remembered our pledge. . . Keep the car in motion. The bug mustn’t slow and risk her tires spinning again into “stuck” mode. And I remembered another thing. This is Africa’s Wild, I’m in. Where the term “ferocious” links itself to many names in the animal kingdom.

My panting slowed and I squinted, surveying what landscape I could yet make out. Sketchy outlines of treetops marked what I knew to be distant river banks at either side. Apart from this, everything between the forests and myself was entirely dark. A cry of some undefined animal sounded from a distant place.

Turning to the direction of the vehicle, I watched the car grow smaller – the space between it and me widening. Nothing captures the isolation I felt when that car passed out of view, its dwarfed taillights vanishing around a bend far up-river. The motor sound faded. Softened further, then went silent. The dark about me seemed tangible, so much I knew I could feel it. My body tightened.

I was afraid. I had never been more afraid.

©2017 Jerry Lout