Because He Wouldn't Let Me Go

As a senior at Bryan College, I received a gift from the Alumni Association--From the Heart of a Lion, a devotional consisting of meditations compiled by various college faculty members, students, and Alumni. Today I read a meditation entitled "A Mother Who Would Not Let Go." The author, who chose to remain anonymous, tells the true story of a mother and young son who endured an alligator attack.

The attack happened in the swimming hole behind the family's home. As the boy swam in the water, his mother saw the alligator approaching him. She ran to call him to the safety of shore, and he swam back towards her. The author says, "From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war [ . . . . ] The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go."

The incident left the boy with two sets of scars: the healed wounds from the alligator's teeth and the marks from his mother's desperate fingers. After his recovery, he showed them off to a newspaper reporter: "The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, 'But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my mom wouldn't let go.'"

Then the author continues, "We have scars, too [ . . . . ] Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God refused to let go."

The meditation brought tears to my eyes. Which of my distasteful memories are really the scars created because God wouldn't let me go? I think of a job so difficult that I pried my eyes open early in the morning just to cringe up next to God before I had to face the day. I think of earthquakes in my personal world that made me keen to know what couldn't be shaken. I think of times when things don't go smoothly because if they did, I'd think I could do them all by myself.

The author of today's meditation exhorts me: "[ . . . ] if you have the scars of His love on your arms be very, very grateful."

I'm learning to be.

Would you, reader, like to encourage us with any of your stories of "the scars of His love"?