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Meditations on a Guinea Pig Being an animal lover and a techno sort of guy, I decided the other day to put a picture of my guinea pig on my web page for the world to see.        I didn't happen to have a picture of him though, and wanting the proper background for him I decided to take him outside so I could get him in a natural setting and it would give him the chance to get some exercise and get out of his aquarium. Being proud of myself for this mutually beneficial idea I carried him out to the middle of the yard, a nice clear spot with good light. His name is Cinnamon, it should have been Lightening, or better still, Lucifer. If anyone that reads this has a guinea pig and if they get the idea to let it have some freedom outside, I have two words: bad idea. It amazed me that he could move his fat little butt so fast, he was like a little bullet as soon as his feet hit the ground. In 2 seconds he was so far away from me that I had to drop my $900 camera in the leaves so I could chase him. Any football team would have been proud of him the way he darted in and out of my pouncing range. I don't know if he finally got tired or whether he just decided to make a bigger fool of me than he had already done but he shot into a bush and sat there looking at me. I know he was laughing at me, I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his squeak, he was rebellious, and this pig was mocking me.  Being civilized, and being an easygoing sort of guy, I tried to reason with him. I pointed out the fact that if he was alone out here then the carrots and celery would stop, his nice full water bottle would be gone and since it was January he was highly unlikely to find water for some time. And then there were cats, dogs, crows, hawks, owls, coyotes, and lions (he didn't know we don't have lions here but it reinforced my case). Who would protect him from all of the critters that would invite him to lunch? His answer was to crawl back into the leaves so I couldn't see him, just hear the leaves rustling around. My first thought was to get my shotgun, but deciding that a bullet would have cost more than he was worth at the moment I gave up that idea. I considered letting our dogs flush him out, but since we have a dachshund who doesn't believe in physical exertion unless there is food to be gained and a Chihuahua who is smaller than the Guinea Pig and is afraid of him I decided that this too was a foolish idea. Finally he made his break, he sprinted out of the bush and down the side of the house half covered by leaves (camouflage, no doubt) and I saw my chance. Using all the energy I could muster up (couldn't be outdone by a rodent), I stumbled after him. I caught the little devil finally, but he wasn't amused. He screamed at me in rage, it was the first time he ever tried to bite me. I didn't dare release my grip as I needed my fingers to type with I carried him by the scruff of his hairy little neck and dropped him rudely into his aquarium again along with a volley of words that I can't repeat here and shouldn't have said there. And there he sat for the rest of the day, no carrots, no celery, no kind words, didn't get his water bottle filled. He got ignored. The next morning I was doing my usual chores around the house while reveling in his screams and squeaks of protest. "Shut up, you little brown devil," I finally shouted after I got tired of hearing him, "or you'll get a nice long run in the clothes drier." I never did that before but right now the idea was appealing to me. I was so mad at him, I tried to help him out, I tried to do something that he would have liked, and look how he treated me. It was right about then that the thought occurred to me. Its funny how these things pop into my head at the strangest times. Jesus tried to do something for us, and look how we treated Him. We didn't run from Him, didn't try to bite his fingers. We killed Him. We mocked Him, insulted Him, rebelled against Him, and then we killed Him. He came here to pay a bill that he didn't owe. He willingly took the fall for something we did. He served a term in a prison that we could neither survive nor escape from. Why? Because we couldn't do it and He could. Because He wanted us home with Him. Because every word ever written, every song sung, every thought pondered by the human race about love put together can't understand its magic and beauty the way He understands it. Consider some things: God knows everything, He knows past, present, future. He knows the movement of every atom of the universe, He knows the thoughts of every man, woman, child, guinea pig, and every other thing that has breathed since the beginning of time. Everything that we have discovered or dreamed, He already knew. He knows the answer to every question, even the ones that we don't know enough to ask. God exists everywhere. He surrounds me at this second while I type, He surrounds you while you read, and He is at the deepest part of the ocean, the deepest part of space. There is no place that He doesn't exist and He is in all of those places at the same time. God can do anything. His power is absolute and complete. He created the entire universe by the power of his words alone. He didn't have angels to help Him create, only He has that power. He and He alone did it. Knowing this, consider that Jesus knew everything that would happen before He ever came here. He knew that we would mock Him, He knew that we would hit Him, He was well aware that we would insult and spit on Him. He knew that we would kill Him even though He only came here to save us from ourselves. Yet He still came. When we spit on him He loved us, when we mocked Him He loved us, when we hit Him He loved us, and when we drove nails through his body He loved us. It's one thing to know what will happen and that one can't change it, it's one thing to know that it isn't deserved, it's one thing to know that the people one is trying to help will kill them. But it's another thing entirely to know all of this, have the power to crush those who would mock and kill, and yet still endure it. At the least He could have just walked away. At the worst... well, I can't imagine what He could have done if He had really been mad. But I can imagine a hundred million angels appearing behind Him, angelic swords drawn and the fire of God in their eyes, and I can imagine the looks on the faces of the people holding the hammers and positioning the nails. I can imagine the look on the faces of those who mocked Him earlier as He looked at the sun and it winked out like a candle snuffed by two giant fingers. Going through what He went through for me just because I am too evil and weak to follow his orders is something that I cannot understand nor imagine. But then, even though I think like a guinea pig God doesn't think like me. If He did, if they had insulted my son, had they mocked me, had they laid a single finger on my gentle, perfect, loving son in anger or disrespect I would have crunched up the world like an empty beer can and tossed it to the junk pile. I might have decided to try again but the next time I wouldn't let them make their own choices. The next time they would do things MY way, they would be happy even if they didn't want to be. I'm glad I'm not God, it would go to my head. I could think of a lot worse than a jog in the clothes drier for people that made me mad. I scratched my pig behind the ears, filled his water bottle, and gave him some carrots.
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