I remember the day my grandfather’s black and white cow gave birth. I was probably 6 or 7 years old and having been raised on a farm, I already knew how baby cows, goats, and rabbits come into the world. The birth was difficult and the black and white cow had paced up and down for a long time with the membrane housing the calf dangling from under its tail. It finally went down on its knees and lay down on its side while puffing loudly and occasionally giving a low mooing sound. All the while, my grandfather and I were waiting patiently for nature to take its course. Eventually the calf’s tiny front hooves followed by a delicate muzzle appeared from the heaving cow’s vulva, and I could tell that my grandfather was happy from his sudden chuckle.
Within a short time, he was squatting at the black and white cow’s side, gently patting its distended belly in encouragement. And when he thought the timing was right, my grandfather held on to the hooves of the tiny calf and pulled with force. As if to compliment his efforts, the black and white cow simultaneously made one mighty heave and a lowing sound and the calf gashed from the vulva, sending my grandfather tumbling backwards and covering his arms with a clear slippery liquid all the way to the elbows, in addition to splashing his clothes with gooey wetness. My grandfather looked at me with a grin to see if I was moved by the spectacle and saw that I was still standing where he had left me. Thus satisfied that the lesson in cow midwifery was coming through uninterrupted, he turned back his attention to his cows.
But then suddenly I heard him make his grunt of surprise, and I knew something was wrong. As expected, the black and white cow was struggling to stand up, but the calf lay dangerously still on its side. Immediately, my grandfather kneeled next to the calf and did something that I wouldn’t have expected. He bent his face almost all the way to the ground, opened his mouth wide open and used it to cover the calf’s muzzle. He then gave a hearty suck and with his cheeks bulging with content, spat whatever he had retrieved onto the ground. He repeated the procedure two more times and then pulled back to look at the still calf. And as if by magic, the calf started showing signs of life and within a very short time, it was on its feet with its mother carefully chaperoning its first steps in the new world.
With a happy look, my grandfather joined me while wiping his wet face with the back of his hand. And it suddenly dawned to my young mind that it was the nasty job of sucking birth liquids from the calf’s air passages that saved it from suffocating and gave it life.
At this moment, I imagine a look similar to that of my late grandfather’s on a happy Jesus, covered in grime from head to toe after struggling to rescue a human being from the miry bog of sin. And no matter how far gone, unworthy, undeserving or unlovable a person might feel right now, the Lord is there waiting for that person to ask Him into his or her life. It is when one acknowledges helplessness in steering their own lives and calls upon Jesus’ name in surrender that He knows that the moment is critical for Him to save a life, and acts.
