A tangled snare begins quite small, but quickly grows either into a thing of beauty or takes advantage of other living things to sustain itself.
Beneath the surface it worms it’s way through the fertile soil and takes hold of each and everything in its path. Slowly it saps the life out of the gems of the garden – choking, squeezing, cutting off all defense,
The garden – the farmer’s field – the soul of man. We all fall victim to the evil that lies below. It may come when we least expect it. We may not even see it coming. It can deceive us with it’s enticing appearance, but we can’t ignore it.
Our minds, our bodies, our hearts are all susceptible. The trap has been set. Our foolishness pulls us in, but something hangs tightly – with a fervency and strength our minds can’t comprehend. Some call it instinct, some see it as their positive aura or conscience. I believe that grip belongs to our precious Savior. He won’t let go – surrender.