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Twice a year, most of us here in North America (at least the US) go through a ritual where we change the time on our clocks. “Spring forward, fall back” is how I keep it straight when to lose an hour or when to gain an hour. Of course, we don’t really lose anything because the sun keeps on going as usual. It’s a human invention. We talk about turning the clock back an hour, but that doesn’t give us the ability to really re-live the past hour or undo things we did during that time. We all wish we could be the master of time on occasion, I’m sure. There are even movies about the ability to time-travel or go backwards and change things, especially things related to relationships. I suspect that is a fairly universal human wish from time to time.
I recently read this and I thought it deserved your attention. This is not about me and my dog, but the point is every bit as valid:
“My dog, Copper – an Irish Setter – will probably be dead by the time this is published; he is over fourteen years old, nearly blind, partially deaf, has arthritis, and a chronic infection that flares up every now and then. Only his nose seems to work well; it still takes over when I turn him loose in our backyard.
“But frequently I remember the first time I turned him out into the backyard of another home; he had never been off a leash during the first six months of his life. He gingerly stepped off our back step into the first snow of a Minnesota winter. He took a few tentative steps in the snow and then, suddenly, he discovered that he was not on a leash this time. He began to run wildly, in circles, and he dashed around the large, fenced-in backyard, leaping into the air, twisting and turning in a glorious dance of freedom and joy. He was meant to have this kind of life – free from ropes and leashes, free from people who would not let him run as he was meant to. (He wasn’t even bothered by the four-foot-high fence that he would later attempt to leap over.)
The next morning, when I put him out again, I discovered that his paw prints, and body prints where he had rolled over in the snow, seemed to be everywhere. Hardly a spot in the backyard failed to show the marks of his previous night’s jubilant romp in the snow. How I would love to see him do that again! But I know it is not to be, he can’t turn his physical time-clock back fourteen years.
“You and I are different, because Christ turned the clock back to the very beginning, to the Garden that God created, and has renewed our broken relationship with his Father and ours so that we really have new life in and through him, our Lord.”
And that, my friends, is perhaps the greatest miracle of all time…
PRAYER: Thank You, Lord, for reclaiming for us what we gave away in the Garden! In Jesus’ name, Amen.
© 2015, Galen C. Dalrymple.
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