The Den of Danger
April 2006
I heard my sons calling my name. The sound was coming from my bedroom. Frantically they screamed at the top of their little lungs, desperate to get me to come and rescue them from some horror that they were obviously facing. Alarmed, I took off running from the kitchen where I was washing the dishes. I turned the couple corners from the kitchen to the living room, hallway and finally the opening of my bedroom. I raced inside to find my boys on my bed in a pool of tears, screaming. There they sat, clutched in the vice grip of my husband. Immediately, I knew what was going on. It had started as a tickling match and had gone from fun to juvenile torture as my husband dug in fingers into their chubby inner thighs, ribs and necks. He had them both cornered now and they were calling for me. I did what I always do in this situation, join in the game. Here's how it goes: I rescue them, they come to me sweating and crying and frustrated. They rest their heads on my shoulder as I strip them away from their father and race out of the room to get them into the "safe zone". There we sit, eyes peeled on the door just incase "he" comes running after us.
After a few moments of safety, they always calm down and catch their breath. They look at me with little adoring thankful eyes but then begin to push their way out of my protective arms. Almost every time, they each start hesitantly walking towards the doorway that leads them back into the den of danger they have just been rescued from. I look, shake my head and say, "Don't do it guys. He is really going to get you the next time." They listen for a moment but can't help themselves. I go back to the dishes while they scamper away into the bedroom to play with danger. They stand before their dad who pretends to ignore them while they dash in and out of the room doing things that they know will aggravate him and get him back into "the game". One will turn off the television their father is watching and run away while the other carefully creeps up to him to tickle the bottom of his feet. With each of these small adventures, their eyes sparkle and their laughs ring out as they wonder when their big teddy bear of a father will take the bait and run after them.
I'm washing dishes quicker because I know the drill. It will only be a few minutes now. The high pitched shrills tell me that Dad has now engaged. He has capture both of his prey and they are without escape. Suddenly, hilarious laughter fills the air as they are each tickled to the point of complete exhaustion. There is less mercy for these two each time they choose to willingly come back for more. I take off my yellow dish washing gloves and prepare for what I know is coming next. The laughter begins to deepen into a low groveling beg for mercy. The two, now worn out from trying to get away on their own are caught in a trap made of two large arms and legs. There is no way for their tiny frames to escape. "Mommy, Puuuhhlease come and save me"! That's my cue. I'm off like a jack rabbit to save my boys.
As the cycle continues, I wonder why these boys continue to return to a situation that they know will end is disaster. They know going in that tickling is only fun for so long and that they will soon be trapped with no escape. Yet, still they choose to dance with danger. It's not fun when tickling turns to torture.
Have you ever done the same thing with your life? I have. I played games with the very thing that I knew would cause me much frustration. We often tangle with the very thing that we know will soon end in our own misfortune. We know how it goes because we have been in this position before. We have gone into the den of danger and gambled. We wonder how close we can get without actually getting caught. For some reason we remember the tickling but forget that it will soon turn torture. We keep pushing the limits and before we know it was have been captured again by the enticing indulgence that once satisfied our senses and excited our fancy. We are held by the pleasure and for a while experience the fun of engaging. But soon the shrill of excitement lessens in intensity as we realize that we are getting the air knocked out of us. We are in over our heads and cannot catch our breath. The very thing which brought us so much joy is now the very thing causing us so much pain. We struggle to get away but we can't, we have been "so easily entangled" (Heb 12:2) in a vice that is far too large and has too tight of a grip on our tiny human frames. It is the seduction of the affair, the lure of the addiction, the enticement of the money, the attraction of the glory that draws us in, promising fun without letting us read the fine print. Maybe for you, its the call of another drink, another man or another friend. Maybe more power, more recognition, more honor, more fame. Whatever "it" is draws and calls and we dance and play until we realize we have gotten ourselves in a web we cannot get out of. Then the mental, emotional, spiritual and physical torture begins.
My boys have learned that the only way for them to be safe is to steer clear of the den of danger. They must overcome their desire to play with fire and just stay far, far away. When they finally do they are grateful. They find relief and many other joyful options that are equally as fun but don't end up in the same disastrous results.
I always hope they won't be caught again in my husband's tickling torture game. It's not enjoyable for me to watch but my boys always know that just in case, I am just a call away. There is always Someone else nearby, waiting in the wings, prepared for us to call His name so that He can rescue us. And as soon as do we can be sure, He will come running to loosen the clutch of sin and death and allow us to rest on His shoulder; let us sit comfortably there and never turn away from the One whose grip can always sustain and keep us.
O people of Zion, who live in Jerusalem, you will weep no more. He will be gracious if you ask for help. He will respond instantly to the sound of your cries.-Isaiah 30:19(NLT)
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