I delivered a survival tool to a friend in New York the other day. I already knew that he was street smart. I have confidence in the fact that he understands and relates well to people of all kinds. In jest, I wanted to bring this consummate storyteller something that would physically and metaphorically take his defense to the next level.
I delivered a tribal, all bamboo, bow with six arrows. The construction is primitive, basic, and deathly functional. Everything on the box was bamboo, from the connection to the taunt line that launched missiles towards the enemy. The arrows come in two tips, one for deer, the other target practice. The feathered ends show endless care through the different colored threads, each with unique feather angles reflecting different personalities and preferences. Jests aside, this is a weapon of quiet destruction.
We talked, launched, and then fired the arrow in his office. As we stood stunned and silent, we worked are retrieving the arrow that had cut right through 3/8 inch plywood. Someone could die if this was in the wrong hands.
My mouth spews verbal arrows with thought. The mystery comes because as intensely as “God hates…a mouth that lies under oath” (Proverbs 6.16,19), He absolutely and totally adores me. In this situation, I am not unique; God loves each of us as intensely as he does me.
The overlap between the two sets of weapons is more than I want to admit. Both are all natural, built with construction techniques that easily stand up to the passing of time. The result of using either carries a risk of pain and possibly death. We often sit and admire the sound of our own voice, willfully ignorant of just how much pain we just inflicted on another.
This morning brings a decision point. Am I going to assemble my armor and worry about those who might attack me at some point during the day or am I going to worry about the journey of those around me? Will I carry arms at the ready or love?
