The Slimy Pit

slimy pit mud.jpg

I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.  Psalm 40:1-3 (NLT)

We are all standing together in a big hole. It is deep, with slick steep sides. We can look up and see light – the blue sky above us – brilliant and sparkling. But when we look down, obscured by shadows, our eyes gradually adjust and we begin to see the ground moving beneath our feet.

It is mud; sandy and thick and wet. It is much too soft to find a solid foothold. We shift our weight, and it fills in around our ankles. Quicksand; the stuff of Tarzan movies.

It holds tightly to our ankles, gradually creeping up to encircle our calves. We lift our knees high, trying to step above the thick bone-cold mud that holds us in its grasp. We look at each other; we are in trouble. If this stuff has such a powerful hold on us when it is barely knee-high, we will not be able to move by the time it reaches our hips.

 And we cry out, “Help us! Is there someone above in those clear blue heavens above us? Someone who can pull us out of this slimy pit that is beginning to eat us alive?”

 And we hear a voice, “I am here. I will send someone to rescue you. My son.”

 And a mere man, looking just like us, arrives at the edge of the pit. He lowers himself down to stand in the muck with us. And the muck continues to rise.

 “I am here,” he says calmly. “Climb on my shoulders and you will be lifted up high enough to escape from this pit.”

 Some of us take his hand. We pull our mud-covered leg out of the muck and place our foot on his knee. We put our weight onto his shoulder, get our balance, struggle to stand.  He becomes our ladder. It’s a messy affair. We slip and slide and cover him with our mud, but he stands firm and lifts us up.

 Some of us stand back to watch and discuss this rescue mission further.

 “You are just a man like us. I don’t know that you can save us any more than we can save ourselves,” they say, eying him warily. He continues to hold out his hand.

 “There has got to be another way,” another says. “I am going to look around and see if there are other options.”

 “I am here,” the son says, “and I am the only way out.” The muck continues to rise.

 Some argue among themselves that there surely is another plan; a better way. They are convinced if they think hard enough, they will be able to figure it out for themselves. It is obviously naïve and innocent to think that the God of the blue sky would simply send down a man to save them.

 “I think the muck is really not so bad,” another one of us voices. “After all, we are all in this together.”

 “And I don’t think it will really kill us, do you?” another one muses. “I am sure it will stop filling the hole eventually.”

 But others continue to take the son’s hand. He draws them close to climb his body. They are lifted above him and disappear into the blue sky above the hole.

 Some took his hand when the muck was ankle deep. Some took his hand as it began to reach their waists. And others were not ready to trust him until the mud had reached the edges of their lips and they realized they would soon be drowning - the mud filling their mouth, their nose, their lungs. This son was the only way out – there was no other way. He offered them life and the light above.

 We are all in the muck of the pit together. God has sent his son to save us from death. Will you take his hand?

 Lauren Daigle Rescue

Photo by Cori Rodriguez from Pexels

 New Living Translation (NLT)Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.