He was quite the lover of the chase, this man, I think in England. He loved the sound of the baying hounds as they echoed through the woods – sometimes far away, sometimes close by.
One morning he rose early to that splendid sound… 20 deer hounds or so, baying wildly in pursuit of their target.
Looking out toward a broad, open field in front of him, the man saw a young deer – a fawn – making its way across.
At the end of its strength.
Reaching the rails of the enclosure, it leaped over and crouched within ten feet of where the man stood.
A moment or two later, here came two of the hounds over the rails, barking ferociously.
That’s when the fawn ran straight toward the man and pushed its head between his legs.
He picked up the little animal, held it close to his breast, and swinging round and round, fought off the dogs.
“I felt, just then,” he said, “that all the dogs in the West could not, and should not capture that fawn after its weakness had appealed to my strength.”
“So it is,” the man – I think from England – added, “when human helplessness appeals to Almighty God. Well do I remember when the hounds of sin were after my soul, until, at last, I ran into the arms of Almighty God.”
Be like the fawn. Bring your fears, your tears, your exhaustion and your weakness and hide them beneath the covering of his love and attention.
Be like the fawn. Offer your all at the mercy of One so much bigger and stronger than you. He may be your last resort, but he is no less strong or caring because you picked Him last.
Be like the fawn. Trust those strong arms to hold you close, and to swing wildly and passionately to defend you against the growling and howling of your accusers and attackers.
And if you ever dared to wonder how the Father feels when you have nothing to offer him but the end of your rope, be like fawn… and rest.
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