Tired of Being Tangled

At my youngest son’s recent birthday party, he planned several competitions for his friends.  One of the match-ups involved the challenge of an “obstacle course”

{Technically, this wasn’t an obstacle course since it entailed one event.  Bless the heart of the sheltered, homeschooled boy.}

The competitors were required to race under a large, heavy net pulled tightly and spread over the expanse of the backyard.  There were two teams, and each boisterously cheered as their comrades crawled, rolled, lunged, and shimmied their way to the finish line.

It was amusing to watch the boys attempt to push through the bulky, cumbersome obstacle.  Their gleeful giggles filled the air, and I laughed so hard I cried.  Even big kids joined the fun, as my husband couldn’t resist displaying his agility (at least I think that was his intent).  The elated commotion was quite contagious and roused our dog to pounce in, as well.  He romped atop the net with our boys warning, “Biscuit, get off!”

Biscuit simply couldn’t resist, though.  After only a short time of safely scrambling from one end to the other, our dog became gradually, yet firmly, tangled in the black net.  The more he moved, the tighter the trap enclosed around him.  He panicked and began rolling, desperately trying to break free.  The net choked its way far into his mouth and ground deep between his teeth.  His tongue was pressed to the side against his teeth by the black string.  The chords forcibly wove their way between his paws and dug crevices into his fur.  With each flailing attempt to escape, the grip of the once-enticing-net grew tighter and bound him as a captured victim.

The delectable climate of the day turned quickly to desperation with tense cries for disentanglement.  “Daddy, help Biscuit!”

Please.  Daddy.  Help!

As I watched my husband rescuing Biscuit, and even amidst the clamor, I heard a still small voice.  The One I hear in the midst of chaos.  The One who reminds me so often, through my circumstances, of Who He is and who I am.

A memorable picture began to develop before my eyes-of-understanding as I envisioned myself fully tangled.  Entangled in the world.  A snare is set.  It lures with such an attraction.  So inviting.  I can’t help but pounce in on the seemingly satisfying, contagious commotion at times.  I descend on the net.  I am not yet trapped.  I tromp through temporal treasures.  I am slowly enveloped.  First, loosely.  I frolic in the field of mortal and mundane.  Before long, I am tangled tightly.

No one serving as a soldier gets entangled in civilian affairs, but rather tries to please his commanding officer.  (2 Timothy 2:4, emphasis added)

The entangling in civilian affairs.  I am enticed.  The concerns and pursuits of the world.  I can’t resist.  My attention is diverted from the duty of the Commander.  My desires become divided.  I lose focus.  I find myself tangled in a turmoil of which I regret ever setting my eyes.  I am hindered.

Entangled.

I yearn for disentanglement.  The scissors of the Master’s hand to clip away the worldly interests tying me down.  The net is cut free one oppressive strand at a time.

Slowly.

I feel the load of pressure give way to liberty.

Slowly.

Detachment from the pull of earthly enticements.

That into which I’d welcomed immaturely and ruefully regret.  The material.  The temporal.  Carnal.  Worldly.  Civilian affairs not meant for a soldier under the command of the King of Kings.

God’s sovereign and sanctifying untangling bring freedom.  Sweet, soul-satisfying emancipation.  Refreshing, replenishing restoration.

Liberation is found with each severing stroke of the scissors.  This is not for the dubious and doubtful.  It is for those with dogged determination to be set free.

Those tired of being tangled.

About Cristal

Living life fully as the wife of one, a mother of two and follower of The One.
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2 Responses to Tired of Being Tangled

  1. Vanna Ayars says:

    I enjoy coming back daily to see your musings. I have your page bookmarked on my must read list!

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