Why Can't You Just Use Your Sword?

I purchased a Gerber machete a short time ago. Being a DIY-er, prepper, and general outdoors enthusiast, this addition was a no-brainer. Add to this the increasing likelihood of a zombie apocalypse, a purchase of this nature nears the naturalness of a child sucking a popsicle. And as this child can so simply consume his cold treat, so too could my cold steel consume the undead.

There’s no brain-tease about it: this no-brainer purchase is a proclamation to the brain-eaters that my brains are off limits.

Now, this machete is by no means the survivalist’s panacea—in a box of crayons, there are many colors needed to produce a fully fridge-worthy work. And so my quest turned to hunting knives—swell for skinning and cutting meat, but also fatal to flesh-eaters during the final global walkabout. You can’t tell me that Dundee won’t be one of the last men standing.

I mentioned in passing to the wife about this next purchase. Her innocent reply: “Can’t you just use your sword?” By “sword” she meant the machete. I chuckled inside. How funny! I need a giant hunting knife for skinning and cutting game. Swords aren't for this! And they certainly aren't the same as a machetes. Swords are better for distant dueling and thrusting, and I definitely don’t have anything like that. She just doesn’t under... wait a second... I don’t have anything like that!

And the prepping goes on.

Good thinking, honey. ;-)

Moses

Assertive? Affirmative.

Courageous? Of Course.

Preachy? Probably.

Bold? By all means.

Chosen? You choose.

I often can’t help but to think that Torin is some kind of Moses clone. He exudes the above traits (and then some) in common with that man. But it goes beyond that.

I have heard stories from parents (of many faiths) claiming to observe a young child speaking with “angels” or some other type of heavenly persons. The parents’ explanation of this phenomenon is usually either 1) the child’s freshness from the world beyond means communication lines are still open or 2) the child’s purity renders him worthy of such visitations.

Whether or not this indeed happens, I do not doubt. And although I have not candidly caught Torin in such a situation, he has displayed some unworldly connectivity. For example, he becomes most vocal and preachy when he has courageously perched himself high aloft a ledge, stone, bucket, couch, chair, or other scalable object. These elevated lectures consist of wild, yet orchestrated hand gestures accompanied by assertive absolutisms. Where has this come from? How did he learn this? Does he feel his voice projects more effectively from above? Why, oh why, doth he speak from on high? Whatever the reason, this soap-box boldness captures me. What does he know that I don’t (or have forgotten)?

“Ouch,” says Torin when viewing a picture of Jesus. He knows the meaning of this word yet persists to use it in connection with Him. I was initially baffled by this, assuming that Torin was referring possibly to His shepherd crook. Maybe he thinks it is a sharp (ouchy) stick or tool. Or perhaps it's the corners of the picture frame that look sharp enough to qualify as ouch? But these theories were busted when Torin saw other images sans any sort of “ouchy” object or frame. And so again and again I insisted that there is nothing “ouch” about Jesus or His pictures, and he insisted otherwise.

And then one day as we bantered about this, there was that indescribable, revelatory moment. Torin pronounced his stance once more and peered into my eyes, into my soul, as if to literally say, “Dad, you’re not thinking on my level. Jesus isn’t ouch; Jesus feels ouch inside.” The implications of this statement rained on my brain like a hundred E. Honda body slams. War. Adultery. Deceit. Rape. Violence. Lust. Drugs. Murder. Envy. Molestation. Crudeness. Injustice. Theft. False idols. Addiction. Greed. Pride. Love of money. This monsoon of thought brought to mind the incredible wickedness of this world. So of course Jesus is ouch! It’s no wonder. He watches mankind and deeply aches inside.

So now when Torin sees Jesus and unmistakably proclaims the usual, we meet eyes and nod in sullen affirmation of this awful truth: our poor decisions can cause Him to feel ouchy inside.

If for no other reason, I feel that my Moses was indeed chosen—chosen to teach me such wonderful things.