Alligator Attack

     One of the school fathers read this story for devotions earlier this year. I loved it and wrote it down later so I would be able to remember it. I do not know the name of the original author, but I want to share it with you, too, so here it is in my own words.

    A young lad decided to go swimming one afternoon in the river that ran behind his house. He dove in and headed out to the middle where the current ran deep and cold. His father, mowing the lawn, watched his son's progress. Then he noticed something that sent prickles of fear down his spine. There, directly in his son's path, a long snout was nearly submerged in the water. Two eyes were watching the lithe form of the boy as he came nearer.
    The father frantically turned off the mower and yelled at his son to turn around. The boy did so, and when he realized the reason for his father's cries he made for the shore with all the speed he could muster.
    But no boy is a match for an alligator. The boy, the alligator, and the father all converged on the pier together. As the father reached for his son's arms to help pull him out, the alligator's jaws snapped shut on the boy's legs. A grisly tug of war ensued. No man is stronger than the grip of an alligator, but the father's love lent him the adrenaline and determination to hang on. As his son was slowly pulled from his grasp, the father's fingernails left gouges on the boy's forearms.
    A farmer driving by noticed the commotion and stopped to investigate. When he realized the situation, he ran to his truck and returned with a gun. Together, the two men were able to kill the alligator and the boy was rushed to the hospital where doctors worked feverishly to mend his wounds.
    As time went on the boy recovered. One day a visiting gentleman from another state stopped by. In the midst of the conversation, he asked to see the boy's scars from his encounter with the alligator. The boy showed him the places where his legs were scarred, but nearly healed. After the visitor's curiosity was satisfied, he turned away, but the boy stopped him. 
    "Wait," he said, rolling up his sleeves to expose long, angry scars on his arms. "These scars are better. This is where my daddy held on and wouldn't let me go because he loved me!"
    So is our great and mighty God as well. He holds onto us, clings to us with His great love, disregarding the evil forces that try their best to wrench us from His grasp. Sometimes our flesh is wounded, but it is His love, always only His great love, that will not let us go. May we ever praise Him for His grace and mercy that have granted us the gift of salvation.