“Hey, these dirt clots “explode” when they hit the ground! We can play war.” My cousin announced. To our youthful minds it looked pretty cool when the dirt clots “blew up.” So cool that we added the appropriate sound effects. The dried clumps in the hog pen worked the best, maybe it was because of the manure/dirt mixture that made them especially volatile, I don’t really know. But once the battle began, we found places to hide behind and then would jump out, throw our dirt grenades and run for another hiding place. We all got hit from time to time. This was great fun until I got hit with a mud-covered rock on my upper arm. It wouldn’t work, it just hung there. I tried calling medic, but my two cousins, who just happened to be brothers, attacked me viciously. The attack did not stop until the elder cousin declared the battle over and that he had won.
My cousins celebrated their victory as they walked arm-in-arm to the house. I trailed behind holding my lifeless arm, feeling sorry for myself as the wind blew dust off of me. I did relish the reception my cousins received when they tried to enter the house. The fun was over.
Because of this clotting, I can understand just a little bit of what a recipient of a stoning must feel. I can only imagine watching a group of people, with hate in their eyes, pick up stones and begin moving toward someone.
It’s interesting that just like in the world today, Jesus is not a threat to anyone. Yet, He is hated.
“Then the Jews took up stones again to stone him. Jesus answered them, Many good works have I shewed you from my Father; for which of those works do ye stone me? The Jews answered him, saying, For a good work we stone thee not; but for blasphemy; and because that thou, being a man, makest thyself God.” John 10:31-33.
© copyright Kevin T Boekhoff