Nearly every time I play...
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Nearly every time I play racquetball, one of my opponents catches me on the backside
with a ball. I've been hit on the head, my legs, and just about everywhere in between. It's
usually my fault. The player in front is supposed to allow a lane for his/her opponent to
hit through. If you don't get out of the way, a rubber ball rocketing up to 100+ miles per
hour smacks you. Though they smart some, I'm usually proud of those stinging bruises.
They make me feel macho.
I can't imagine the pain from having a large rock hit me, however, followed by a pummeling of stones thrown by passionately irate men. Stephen died from angrily thrown stones. In the midst of his pain, he asked God to forgive the throwers. He wasn't trying to be macho. Neither did he fume with resentment. Jesus' love in him pardoned his killers. I pray for that kind of love.
I can't imagine the pain from having a large rock hit me, however, followed by a pummeling of stones thrown by passionately irate men. Stephen died from angrily thrown stones. In the midst of his pain, he asked God to forgive the throwers. He wasn't trying to be macho. Neither did he fume with resentment. Jesus' love in him pardoned his killers. I pray for that kind of love.
