For you know it is best to kill the lion while it is a cub.
John Ploughman’s Talk, by C.H. Spurgeon
My eyes tripped over that statement several years ago in Spurgeon’s collection of wise and pithy sayings, *John Ploughman’s Talk, a little gem I purchased from Lamplighter Publishing www.lamplighter.net. I jerked my gaze from the book with a ‘humph’, stared straight ahead, then contemplated its meaning.
For you know (actually, no, I hadn’t) it is best to kill the lion (seems kinda harsh, Lord) while it is a cub (oh, but, they’re so darn cute).
I marked the statement in ink…
Even dog-eared the page. Good golly, did I have cubs in my midst? Or even cubs in my heart, my mind, or my soul?
Apparently, yes. Enough to fill a zoo.
~When my child stood his ground and refused to leave Target because I wouldn’t buy the trading cards he wanted, I left his backside near the checkout counter, circled the front of the store in my car until he surrendered. Had to kill the cub.
~When Sunday mornings became the target of complaint, any post-worship service requests for a Happy Meal were denied. Had to kill the cub.
~When my child’s tone of voice became snitty and her room left a mess, the coveted cell phone privilege was revoked. Had to kill the cub.
~When dishonesty disfigured my child’s face, intent on erecting a rampart in his heart against Almighty God, the car keys became mine. Had to kill the cub.
Oh yeah. Then there’s me. When the spirit of unforgiveness began to make a nest in my soul, I had to kill that cub. Or when I began to sink in the mire of ingratitude, why that not-so-darling little cub had to be killed, too…before it bred into a pride of lions.
Left alone and ignored, these cubs would have grown to corrupt, confuse, conquer, or kill. And who wants that?
The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.
Matthew 3:10, Luke 3:9
*Every minister has put his hand to the plough; and it is his business to break up the fallow ground. That I have written in a semi-humorous vein needs no apology….There is no particular virtue in being seriously unreadable. C. H. Surgeon