The First Time I Killed Me

I was looking forward to the hunt with all of the eager expectation a twelve year old could muster. I had loaded the pristine weapon with 25 rounds of brand new ammunition. The shinny bronze balls glittered in the mid morning sunlight as I placed each one in the loading tube. These were brand new .177 steel balls of death, not at all like the plastic wimpy balls of today. I was now ready to do as I pleased as I sought out some prey of the flying variety.

I must admit that in my daydreams I was a much better shooter that in reality. So over the years I contributed many pounds of steel to the environment around my parent’s property near Onaway, Michigan in the attempt to see what it was like to hit a live target. On this particular sunny June day I went out seeking a mark, knowing that my grandmother had purposely told me over breakfast not to kill any birds. Hiding behind the barn, out of site from my grandmothers prying eyes I sought my prey. To this day I can see the dark blue barrel lowered toward the branches of the old twisted apple tree. With my trigger finger poised to release the compressed air that I had pumped ten times in the barn out of earshot from the birds, I drew down on a lonely sparrow perched on a branch. I picked out a feather on his chest and released the steely little messenger of death from its prison. Out of the barrel with a whisper and a pop to my amazement the bb struck the bird exactly where I had aimed and it fell over dead onto the ground.

At that moment I felt several things at the same time. I felt like I had closed my eyes while batting and hit a double in the all star game after never having a hit before (which I had experienced a couple of years previous to this occasion) and then when I saw the bird up close and personal I knew what I had done was totally unnecessary and pointless. Then, immediately, like the voice of God himself, I heard my grand mothers voice cry out “Craig your not shooting at those birds are you?” I don’t remember if I answered her or not, but I know I ran and got a shovel and buried the little guy beneath that apple tree on that sunny day in June and with it a little piece of me died too.

We want so many things that on this side of getting them, seem so attractive and exciting, but in the end, leave us guilty and empty inside. I don’t know what you are seeking today but I have a question for you: Is it Jesus? Do you need the Holy Spirit more and more to touch you, guide you, and move in you? I do. Come Holy Spirit revive this dead life again!