Things Aren't Always as They Seem

The year was 1973.  I was a new creation, having professed faith in Christ at the age of nine.  The revival at our church that began a few days after my decision set the stage for memories that will be with me for life.  Freddie Gage... Pulpit in the Shadows Ministries...straight from Houston into small town America and I was all eyes and ears as the revival began.

Sunday morning, I took my place conspicuously on the front row, directly in front of the pulpit.  I now realize this was my parents’ doing because they both sang in the choir.  From that distance, I was still able to receive an effective dose of the ‘look of death’ from the choir loft that would put an end to the inappropriate behavior in which I may have been engaged.  Not that I am confessing…I am just saying I was told to sit on the front row and there were a few times that I got the “head slightly  tilted-lips pursed-barely detectable nod –that screamed “DON’T MAKE ME COME OUT OF THIS CHOIR LOFT”.   Even so, I was there soaking up every word as a new believer. 

I was mesmerized as the evangelist began to talk about a life that was spent ministering to folks that like him had been in the shadows of society.   Stan Redding is quoted in the preface of Freddie’s 1970 book, Pulpit in the Shadows, as having said, 

“Freddie Gage is an ordained minister of the Gospel. But there his link with religious convention is severed. In the legions of the Lord, he is a rebel. In the staid hierarchy of the ministry, he is a non-conformist. In the carefully thought-out, polished oratory of the pulpit, his is the rash and dissident voice.
Before the Bar of Heaven, Freddie Gage is the “mouthpiece” for the hustler, the prostitute, the dope fiend, the hood, the killer, the alcoholic, the scuffler, the restless and the troubled. His story is – of necessity – the story of those who people the shadowy domain which society, properly or improperly, terms the “underworld,” where Freddie Gage has set up his pulpit.”

As he preached, I cannot help but believe my mouth was probably a gape.  He used the “cool” vernacular of the day and was unlike any preacher I had ever heard. 

As the invitation ended with many flooding the aisles, I stood taking it all in.  WOW!  This was like nothing I had seen. And according to Freddie, there was more in store.  It was at the end of that first service that he uttered the words that I knew would somehow change my life.  He laid out the plans for the week and talked about different people from his ministry that would be coming to our church and giving their story of redemption from a life bound by sin.  And then he said it…the highlight of the week…he would be bringing in a young man ‘with a monkey on his back.’

At first, I thought I had heard wrong.  But, as he continued to talk I realized he was talking about MY Church!  He was coming to MY Church!  This was beyond my hopes and dreams.  I had been asking Santa for a monkey for some time.  I dearly loved “Cheetah” on Tarzan and I wanted a chimp of my own! This would be my one chance to get up close and personal with a monkey and I could not contain myself! 

Throughout the week, I daydreamed of this man with a monkey.  How long had it been on his back?  Why was it there?  Why wouldn’t it get off his back?  Although I didn't understand what was so bad about having a monkey on your back, I knew I was really good with animals and I was the one person who could coax that cute, little chimpanzee right off his back and into my arms…it was going to be a great week.

And then the day came.  At the proper time, Freddie introduced a young man that made his way to the pulpit.  He began to talk about a life that had been wrecked with drugs and loss.  He talked of how through the outreach of Pulpit in Shadows, he had come to know the Lord.  I listened intently to what he had to say, all the while straining to get a glimpse of his back.  For a monkey, it sure was quiet.  And then, the young man moved to return to his seat and in full view of everyone…was his back…sans a monkey.

I was so disappointed.  All week long I had dreamed about what it would be to hear from a man ‘with a monkey on his back” and instead, we had heard from a drug addict.  Deflated on the way home, my mom explained that having a ‘monkey on your back’ actually meant you were addicted to drugs.  The man had clearly stated what torment his life had been.

I grew a little that evening.  I learned that things aren’t always what they seem and that God is even bigger than a ‘monkey on someone’s back”.  I also learned that maybe monkeys were not all they were cracked up to be… and just maybe Santa had been wise to overlook that request on my list.

The Hummingbird

The conversation had been interrupted by the shadow that intermittently passed by the transoms looking out onto the patio.  Could it have been a wasp or possibly a wayward butterfly?  My parents and I picked up the conversation where we had left it.  The last few months had been hard, a struggle – physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  And as usual, our conversation was both cathartic and just plain fun.

Spiritually, I was in a desert.  I had allowed circumstances that I had no control of to rob me of joy.  During my quiet time, I had begun to pray the first half of Psalm 51:12, “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation…”  I needed to remember the full extent of what Christ did for me.  The things going on around me had so captured my attention that I felt hidden away.  And I knew if I could be reminded again of His great love, refreshment would come.  This was the place I found myself that day.

As we continued to talk, I walked to the patio door and looked out to see a hummingbird traversing the perimeter of the patio, either unable or unwilling to fly out from under the overhang to freedom.  As I walked away from the door, it disappeared from sight.  Thinking it had finally found its way out, I turned back only to find that it had attached itself to the brick- wings outstretched- to cup the wall. 

Immediately, a rescue attempt ensued.  Broom in hand, I attempted to get the bird to attach to the straw end so that I could gently remove him before my cat did.  As the broom neared the bird, he let go and fluttered down to the window sill near where I stood.  I reached down to pick him up believing at any moment he would dart out of reach and be gone.  Instead he lay perfectly still.

It wasn’t until I picked him up that I realized he was bound, beak to tail feathers, by spider webs.  Every part of his tiny body was affected by the silken threads.  I proceeded to my sewing room to put him under the magnifying glass and light to carefully pluck off the webs with tweezers.  My mom, who just happens to be a hummingbird aficionado, took to the kitchen to make nectar for his recovery.  As I worked, he continued to lay motionless, though his eyes were bright and watching everything going on around him. 

Once the webs were gone and he was allowed to drink the nectar we set out to release him in my back yard.  I took him near a bush that was covered with blooms and carefully opened my hand.  He didn’t move.  Not knowing what to do, I brought him back inside.  It occurred to me that my hand is rather small and though I was trying not to, I was certain that my grip was too tight.  There was not enough space to keep him confined, in the event he suddenly recovered, and yet room to breathe.  It was then that I placed him in my dad’s hands. 

Once again, we took him outside and as my dad stretched out his hand, the tiny bird took flight and landed on the lowest limb of a nearby tree.  He peered at us for a few moments and then disappeared in a blur.

Soon after, my parents headed home and I was left with my thoughts of the close encounter with the hummingbird.  It was then that I heard the voice that speaks directly to my heart and understanding followed.  God used one of His tiniest creations to answer the prayer that had been on my lips that very day. 

You see, He reminded me that just as the hummingbird was bound by the webs, before I accepted Christ as my Savior, I was bound by sin.  The little bird had completely surrendered his will to mine when he fluttered to the window sill, trusting me.  Likewise, unable to save myself, only the complete surrender of my will to Jesus' was necessary to make me whole again.  What I did for the hummingbird, in plucking the bindings that had disabled him, is what Jesus did for me on the cross.  He freed me from the sin that “so easily entangles.”  And finally, just as I placed the hummingbird in my dad’s hands, true freedom came for me when Jesus placed me in the “Father’s hands”.  

 I will not soon forget that experience. Thankfully, it is not exclusively MY reminder, but a picture of a love so great that He would set aside His life as a ransom for that which was lost.

John 10:29

Hebrews 12:1