This morning I found a mouse at the base of our basement stairwell. Fortunately for all (me, Sally and especially the mouse) it was still outside and I was coming down the stairs, not openning the door from the inside. So as I stood for a moment eying up this little creature, I decided in all my humanitarian kindness that I would rescue this poor thing.
Certainly, some kind of rescue was required. This mouse was doomed. He had no means of escape. The stairs are poured concrete and the walls are basement block. There would be no climbing. There would be no jumping. The little animal did not having the ability to save itself. On top of this there was no material for it to build a ramp or ladder or any other means of escape. In fact, even if I had thrown it the raw materials for a ladder, I doubt the mouse had the skills to construct the ladder. And to add to its dilemma, even if I could have explained how a ladder might be built, I am doubful that its paws could even do the work.
It was then that I realized that I would provide the means of its escape. I would simply place a small bucket on its side and let the mouse run (ok walk or wander) into the bucket. Its salvation would be a cooperative effort. I would provide the means and it would provide the will. And yet, it wanted nothing to do with my freely offered rescue. It had been trapped for most of the night; didn't it want to be free? Couldn't the mouse tell that I only wanted what was in its best interest? Wasn't it obvious that its rescue was contingent on it willfullly choosing to get into my freely offered bucket?
Well, the answer to all these questions was No. It didn't just avoid the bucket. It ran to the opposite corner. As much as the mouse probably hated the stairwell and at some level knew it was trapped and doomed, it clearly hated my bucket even more. It had an instinctual fear and "knew" that nothing good could possibly happen by going anywhere near that bucket.
At that point, my experiment with the free-will salvation of this mouse was over. It was time for some irresistable grace. I retreived a broom from the garage and proceed to attempt to "sweep" the mouse into the bucket. It took more than a few swipes and more than a few laps around the strairwell. It also resulted in a battered little mouse as he ran away from my rescue for every second...until it landed in the bucket and realized it was safe.
From there I carried the bucket, with the mouse bruised and tired, but very much intact, to a field near our house. I released the little creature into a new home, a home much more fit for him than the one he had been trapped in. He has been delivered, not by his own works or merit or skills or even desire. Instead, salvation came by grace, from the outside, unexpected, unwanted and yet in the end graciously received and joyfully embraced.
And if I, one who would just a quickly set a trap or leave out poison, would do this for a mouse that has no lasting value, how much more will the perfectly loving, gracious, merciful and compassionate God save and rescue and redeem and deliver us?
To God Alone be the Glory
