I jerked Bookie away from the snake, then stomped on the snake’s head and crushed it - immediately after I first cut off its head with a shovel. In case you didn’t already know, a rattlesnake is not your fwend. “Look! My fwend!” And there, directly at his feet, was a small rattlesnake. I strolled over and asked, “Bookie, where’s your fwend? Is it an imaginary fwend?”īookie chirped, “No, Daddy!” and pointed excitedly. He was jumping up and down, calling out, “My fwend! My fwend! Daddy, look! He’s my fwend!” We were all doing different things around the yard when suddenly we heard Bookie squealing with delight. One day, when my son Bookie (whose real name is Stephen Craig) was about two years old, he was playing on our front porch. My family lives in a heavily wooded area, where we’re basically besieged by poisonous snakes. Snakes in general freak me out, but bringing venomous vipers into the equation adds another diabolical dimension. It was a serpent that seduced all of mankind into the fall, after all. I hate them worse than Indiana Jones does. Worry reminds me of my feelings about snakes. And when it turns out we don’t have it handled, then it falls to us - not to God - to fix it. We think, I know God’s a good God and all that, but I’ve got this situation handled.
Although I believe in God, I’ve trusted more in my own abilities than I have in his faithfulness.įor Christian Atheists, our worry proves we don’t trust in God as we claim to. Worry (or not trusting God) has been a significant issue in my life.
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