On a recent trip to Costa Rica, my husband Brent and I went on a little river trip. We were accompanied by our captain, a guide (let’s call him “Larry”), and three strangers from Canada. (Not that it matters, but if this was Gilligan’s Island , I think that I would be playing the part of Mrs. Howell.) This particular river is chock-full of crocodiles. In fact, according to Larry, it’s the second most crocodile-infested river in the world. And those animals are no joke. They are HUGE…like make-you-believe-in-dinosaurs huge. When you see one slyly swimming along and following your boat, with just his eyes poking out in front of him and his giant tail cutting S's in the brown river water behind him, it makes a land-loving girl like me question the sea-worthiness of the vessel. I mean, these massive creatures can grow up to 20 feet long, for Pete's sake! Fortunately, we all made it back in one piece, but while aboard, Larry told us an interesting story. This stretch of the river is hemmed in on both sides by jungles teaming with all kinds of wildlife, including primates. We heard peaceful howler monkeys before we ever saw them, their throaty calls warning each other about our presence. We also saw capuchin monkeys. As cute as they appear to the casual observer, they can be aggressive and bloody-thirsty. Larry told us about one little fella named Caesar, after a character from The Planet of the Apes movie. (As far as I know, Caesar didn't give himself the name. Larry did. Although you can never tell with those smart, little monkeys!) Apparently, Caesar was a part of a family of capuchins, but he developed a case of mange, which Larry claims he got from eating cookies and other junk food given to him by well-meaning tourists. One day, Caesar’s family tried to push him out of a tree so that he would fall into the river and become a snack for the crocodiles. His troop saw Caesar and his sickness as a liability, so they wanted him gone from the group. Lucky for him, he was able to hop onto the roof of a vessel similar to ours, and the captain ferried him over to the other side of the river, where he could eat nutritious food and recuperate far away from his would-be assassins. Over the years, Larry would regularly reconnect with Caesar, now healthy and strong and still living on the other side. While the river in this section isn’t especially wide, the two sides might as well be a million miles apart for the existence of those sneaky, hungry crocodiles. Larry said that we had a 1% chance of swimming successfully from one side to the other without being eaten. (I can’t actually say if that statistic is true because none of the passengers and crew aboard that Costa Rican S.S. Minnow tested his math.) It’s a commonly held belief that primates resemble humans. This phenomenon can be observed in the ways we communicate, have fun, display emotions, use tools, and, I’m sad to say, how we function as a part of a community. How often do we dismiss those who are struggling or displaying weakness? How about when someone seems to be dragging us down? Do we find ways to help him, or do we calculate the costs and attempt to shove him out of a tree to save ourselves the bother? One thing that separates us from capuchins (besides our capacity to eat cookies without developing mangey fur...thank goodness) is our ability to examine the life of a man named Jesus and try to live like Him. Through Christ, we see someone who touched lepers, ate with tax collectors, and spoke to women with bad reputations. He welcomed the outcasts. In our communities, we’ve got at least three choices: we can be the selfish, shoving capuchins or we can be the cruel, prowling crocodiles or we can be the boat—a safe vessel to transport the hurting to where we know (from experience) is the best place to heal.
On a recent trip to Costa Rica, my husband Brent and I went on a little river trip. We were accompanied by our captain, a guide (let’s call him “Larry”), and three strangers from Canada. (Not that it matters, but if this was Gilligan’s Island, I think that I would be playing the part of Mrs. Howell.)
This particular river is chock-full of crocodiles. In fact, according to Larry, it’s the second most crocodile-infested river in the world. And those animals are no joke. They are HUGE…like make-you-believe-in-dinosaurs huge. When you see one slyly swimming along and following your boat, with just his eyes poking out in front of him and his giant tail cutting S's in the brown river water behind him, it makes a land-loving girl like me question the sea-worthiness of the vessel. I mean, these massive creatures can grow up to 20 feet long, for Pete's sake! Fortunately, we all made it back in one piece, but while aboard, Larry told us an interesting story.
This stretch of the river is hemmed in on both sides by jungles teaming with all kinds of wildlife, including primates. We heard peaceful howler monkeys before we ever saw them, their throaty calls warning each other about our presence. We also saw capuchin monkeys. As cute as they appear to the casual observer, they can be aggressive and bloody-thirsty. Larry told us about one little fella named Caesar, after a character from The Planet of the Apes movie. (As far as I know, Caesar didn't give himself the name. Larry did. Although you can never tell with those smart, little monkeys!)
Apparently, Caesar was a part of a family of capuchins, but he developed a case of mange, which Larry claims he got from eating cookies and other junk food given to him by well-meaning tourists. One day, Caesar’s family tried to push him out of a tree so that he would fall into the river and become a snack for the crocodiles. His troop saw Caesar and his sickness as a liability, so they wanted him gone from the group. Lucky for him, he was able to hop onto the roof of a vessel similar to ours, and the captain ferried him over to the other side of the river, where he could eat nutritious food and recuperate far away from his would-be assassins.
Over the years, Larry would regularly reconnect with Caesar, now healthy and strong and still living on the other side. While the river in this section isn’t especially wide, the two sides might as well be a million miles apart for the existence of those sneaky, hungry crocodiles. Larry said that we had a 1% chance of swimming successfully from one side to the other without being eaten. (I can’t actually say if that statistic is true because none of the passengers and crew aboard that Costa Rican S.S. Minnow tested his math.)
It’s a commonly held belief that primates resemble humans. This phenomenon can be observed in the ways we communicate, have fun, display emotions, use tools, and, I’m sad to say, how we function as a part of a community. How often do we dismiss those who are struggling or displaying weakness? How about when someone seems to be dragging us down? Do we find ways to help him, or do we calculate the costs and attempt to shove him out of a tree to save ourselves the bother?
One thing that separates us from capuchins (besides our capacity to eat cookies without developing mangey fur...thank goodness) is our ability to examine the life of a man named Jesus and try to live like Him. Through Christ, we see someone who touched lepers, ate with tax collectors, and spoke to women with bad reputations. He welcomed the outcasts. In our communities, we’ve got at least three choices: we can be the selfish, shoving capuchins or we can be the cruel, prowling crocodiles or we can be the boat—a safe vessel to transport the hurting to where we know (from experience) is the best place to heal.
A boat for the outcasts
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