When I was probably 6 or 7 years old, a married couple built a new house across the street from us. They had moved in, but the house wasn’t totally finished yet. When you’re a little boy, new houses in the neighborhood are fun because there’s a ton of mud or dirt piles to play in.
One rainy day I was playing outside in my yard. I had my raincoat and my big rain boots, so I was all set. Our yard already had a lawn, so it didn’t really have many puddles. Since the house across the street wasn’t landscaped yet, it had all kinds of puddles and mud to go stomping through.
I knew the neighbors, and they were nice, so I crossed the street and started splashing through the grossest part of the yard. I don’t think the gutters were installed yet, so the water ran right off the roof and into the yard, making for some thick, goopy stomping. My plan was to go knock on the front door to say hi, but it was starting to be a tough slog. The mud felt like it got stickier and sticker, sucking on my boots as I tried to pull them up.
It got to the point where I couldn’t pick my feet up anymore. The rain boots were already much heavier and clunkier than the shoes I normally wore, and now it got even worse with the mud’s suction. My boots were stuck in the mud, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
I started to panic. I tried shaking them loose, but that didn’t work (it probably made it worse). I think I was afraid to pull my feet out of the boots and walk across the mud, scared that my actual feet would get swallowed by the muck. Defeated and out of ideas, I squatted down (afraid to sit, for fear of getting stuck) and started to cry.
I don’t know how long this went on, but soon the front door opened and Joyce, my neighbor, poked her head out. With a look of worried concern, she saw me in my helpless and pitiful situation, and right away got some shoes on, came close enough to grab me, and lifted me right out of the mud.
Cherished readers, this is the story of the gospel, plain and simple. I was in a mess that I couldn’t escape on my own. The difference with the gospel is that we’re all born stuck in the mess, we didn’t wander into it because we made a bad choice.
People have different reactions to being stuck like this. Some choose to just wallow and enjoy the mud as best they can. Others look at the situation and focus on it being a futile, meaningless struggle. To each and every one of us, though, a hand is extended, offering us a way out of the muck and mire. It’s not forced upon us; it is merely offered. This hand, friends, is the hand of Jesus Christ.
If you’ve come to realize that you’re stuck in the mud and would like a way out, I urge you to look into what Christ did for you. He’s gently knocking on the door of your heart. He’s not going to force the door open; He waits for you to open the door. Won’t you consider letting Him in?
It’s better than being stuck in the mire. What do you have to lose?