We saw the precious little fawn as soon as we rounded the curve. Living in the foothills of the mountains for many years now, we are blessed to regularly come across deer, turkey, foxes, possum, rabbits and even, on occasion, a black bear or two.
On this particular day, mama deer had jumped an old, discarded section of fence in a briar thicket; all the rest of the fence had apparently been removed years ago. Baby fawn, clearly just a few days old, was trying to follow, but was too small to jump the fence and too scared to think clearly enough to run around it.
When it saw us, it panicked and attempted to dart through the section of fence instead. But the poor little thing got its back leg trapped, badly. As I went to it to see if I could free it, I quickly saw that, unless something changed, that baby would not get out unless its leg was viciously broken.
To hear it bleating was pitiful. To see its mother on the other side panicking, torn between fear of us and concern for her young, was heart-wrenching.
I rushed back to our vehicle, praying that I had something I could use to get it free. My eyes fell on a small pair of electrical snips. I knew they could not cut that steel wire; it was a very heavy gauge, it would take bolt cutters to do the job. But I have also learned that, when we do all we can do, God often picks up the slack in the most remarkable of ways.
I waded through the briars, put the snips on the wire and, as I squeezed, it felt like I was going through butter. With an easy “snap” the wire was cut; I bent it up, and the little fawn immediately jumped up and ran to be with its mother.
I looked at my hands. Blood. Cuts. There would be some scars.
That fawn was so very fearful of me. I had it in my power to do it great harm, even to destroy it. But the only desire of my heart was to set it free, even though it could not fully grasp that fact or the depth of my compassion for it.
How could I miss the obvious parallel? Fallen man was caught, and there was no way out. Psalm 38:4 says, “For mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me.” God, the God with the power to destroy us, came to where we were. As we thrashed about, as we cried out in fear, God subjected his own hands and feet to the piercing and scars of crucifixion, he shed his own blood so we could be free.
He did not do it for his benefit; he was doing just fine before there ever was an us. Everything he did was for us, just as everything I did was for that baby deer.
The insignificant pain I experienced is nothing, absolutely nothing at all compared to what Jesus went through for us. Oh the depth of love that led him to be beaten, battered, spat upon, scourged, have his beard yanked out of his face, have nails driven through his hands and feet, experience dehydration, hang in nakedness or near nakedness for people to mock, and then have the Father turn his back on him as all of our sins were poured out upon him.
2 Corinthians 5:21 says, “For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.”
Why? What was his motivation for doing all that he did that fateful day on Calvary?
It is pretty simple, really; he did it all so that we could hear the “snap” that cut through the seemingly impregnable chains of sin we were enslaved in. He did it all to set us free. If that is something you are interested in, please feel free to contact me, I would love to tell you more.
Bo Wagner is pastor of the Cornerstone Baptist Church of Mooresboro, N.C., and the author of several books available at www.wordofhismouth.com. Contact him at 2knowhim@cbc-web.org.