The other day Muffy walked up and rubbed her head against my leg. Since that is a pet me request, I bent down, balancing on my toes, and did as she asked.
While I was there I saw the L-A-P look come into her eyes. In the seconds that I had before she jumped on the “lap” she had found I grabbed the counter with one hand. Then she proceeded to make herself very comfortable on her new-found lap. She sat there and purred and purred and purred. But my petting her with one hand simply wasn’t enough. She kept pushing at my other hand. Being an intelligent adult, I switched hands, and began holding on for dear life with the other one. She wasn’t fooled. She started pushing at that one. This went on for quite some time—until I finally figured out another way to balance myself so that I could pet her with both hands. When she had gotten her pet tank filled she happily jumped down and went about her kitty business.
As I gratefully straightened my aching knees a thought struck me. Muffy was totally unaware that at any minute her “lap” was in danger of collapsing and crashing to the floor. The foundation that she was trusting was no foundation at all. It just looked like one.
How may times do I do the same thing? How often do I put my trust in the wrong things? How many times am I blissfully ignorant of the danger of collapse? It’s only the mercy of my Father that has kept me from crashing to the floor and hitting hard.
My kitty helped me remember that there is a “tested stone, a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation; the one who trusts will never be dismayed”—Jesus Christ. He is where my trust belongs. He is the only one worthy. He is the only one who will not collapse and fall.
©Micki Parkinson, an editorial from the SPEP church newsletter