Sunday, August 2, 2009

One of Them There Pastoral Metaphors

Visa, that's the name of my calico cat, Visa, I said as she sat on my lap while I sipped my first morning latte, you sure do smell funky. Have you tangled with a skunk? Did you sleep under the house last night?
Finally, I said, Visa why don't you get down so as to let me drink my morning's caffeine in olfactory peace? So she left, but the funk remained.
Then I had an epiphany. My wife has been gone for about five days so the level of debris around my easy chair has grown as it is wont to do. So sure enough there in the pile right in the middle of a clean dirty paper plate was a dead mouse in the middle stages of ripe. It was obvious a sacrifice and gift from Visa to me as homage or just in case I got hungry.
As I pondered this, it occurred to me that our little sacrifices to the Lord must sometimes seem to Him like that ripe little mouse. I recall that such was said in the Bible somewhere, maybe in the OT, that "their" sacrifices were as a stench in the nostrils of God.
I don't remember what God did about that, but I threw out the sacrifice, poured out my coffee, and aired out the temple.


Carol said...

Oh dear. I love it. I'm glad Visa is taking care of you.

Trixie said...

I'm just glad you found it and disposed of it before it got worse. And before you wife came home.

Dr. Bill Loney said...

Just make sure that there rodent came from yur cat and wasnt victimated by quail eggs that done turnt.

If it did come from Visa, watch might have to end up payin 24% interest on that joker.

For what its worth, Malachi mentions bringing unacceptable sacrifices to the Lord--blind, lame, sick. He said for such there would be some curses and metaphorical dung on their faces.

Course, ol' Paul wrote in Hebrews that sacrifices had in themselves no value and that theys was only a shadow of good things to come. He pointed the worshippers forward to the coming of the great High Priest, who, when time got full, offered hisself once for all time to bear the sin of many.

It figures sacrifices wuz fer a temporary economy...a system of types and emblems what did their purposes and have now passed away, beings the one sacrifice for sins done perfected for ever them what been sanctified.

Course, bear in mind, these comments is comin from somebody that figures that one week past the lil date on the milk carton means....buttermilk!!

drlobojo said...

Bill done tried to feed some of the quail eggs to the cats. No way they say. The Raccoons will eat them however.

Geoffrey Kruse-Safford said...

Our cats had a field day with mice in our previous house. We lived hard up on a huge corn field and every harvest, they would scurry inside to avoid the grim John Deere Reaper. One morning, maybe 2000, maybe 2001, I awoke, put my feet on the floor and one landed on, well, you guessed it.

Another time, one of our cats entered the bedroom and hopped up on my wife's side meowing over and over again, because she had killed a mouse and left the offering for her. She was so proud of her accomplishment, poor darling . . .

drlobojo said...

Visa brought in another mouse and another bird today. I guess she thinks I'm not eating well enough or something. I am on high alert now for these "gifts". Wife, come home soon before she fills up the house with these things.

Okie Book Woman said...

I am not happy to read this post. I am not returning for nearly two more weeks. Please, please, please try to stay alert and take those dirty dishes back into the kitchen and load them into the dishwasher. You worry me.

drlobojo said...

Well, hello OBW. Dirty dishes? What dirty dishes? BTW I love you too.