That has become a frequent lamentation of my soul, a rather comical and last ditched cry of frustration, Lord, there just aren’t enough pigs! It’s a reference to Matthew 8:28-34, where Jesus goes to the country of Gergesenes and meets the demon possessed said to be, “exceeding fierce, so that no man might pass by that way.” Jesus being all-powerful, simply casts them out into a herd of pigs, which than jump off a cliff and into the sea.
I myself am not all-powerful. One might even say I am challenged to fight my way out of a wet paper bag. Actually, I managed to sprain my wrist the other day engaged in battle with a ball of yarn….
Lord, I’m going to need more pigs. It’s just a metaphorical reference to being immersed in so much “exceedingly fierce” darkness that it threatens to swallow one up. One must be careful what one prays for however, because God does seem to have a sense of humor and will sometimes give you exactly what you ask for.
Pigs, I now have pigs in the neighborhood, those pampered pot-bellied things, the pets of the day. Or the pets of days gone by. I was speaking to a lady at church who Knows These Things, and she told me pigs as pets have now gone out of style, so nobody has them anymore. Apparently we are a neighborhood of nobodies, frequently a day late and a dollar short, and rather retrograde in our trend setting, because we now have pigs, 3 of them that I know of.
So a while back at 2 Am the cops knock on my door and announce they have found my pig and so began one of those nonsensical conversations that become somewhat surreal. I happened to have just been dreaming about God granting me more pigs, when I was awoken by the cops banging on my door and attempting to deliver a pig to me, literally. So naturally I said, “praise the Lord, He does indeed answer prayer!”
Naturally they took this as an affirmation of my gratitude that they had found my pig and proceeded to hand him to me. “No, no, that is not my pig,” I tried to declare, but of course, now they assumed I was either lying or in denial or something because they did not want to believe me. No doubt they wanted to be relieved of their pig responsibilities as soon as possible and I was not being very cooperative. So began a game of good cop, bad cop at 2 AM when I am not at my best, or perhaps I do not give myself enough credit because I did manage to evade all of their questions with my nonsensical answers. After attempting a clear “No, not my pig” that just fell on deaf ears, I back tracked, softened my tone, and resorted to vague innuendos, “It is unlikely that is my pig.”
“To the best of my knowledge, that is not my pig.”
“Anything is possible, but I have my doubts as to whether or not that is actually MY pig.”
“Do you like pigs? I like pigs!”
Eventually they either decided to believe me or determined a conversation with me was simply too much work, because they took the pig and fled.
There is no moral to my tale beyond the fact that God is exceedingly kind to hear my prayers, to make His presence known to me, and to keep me entertained and encouraged. He does indeed answer prayer, but even better, He speaks my language and understands my many references to the banal and ordinary things of life.