A Redemption Scene

In a little over a week, my summer reading pile shrunk in size by one book (only 6 more to go). Since most of my readings are of the theological nature, I felt it necessary to expand my horizons to the world of fiction once again. Last summer I re-read the Lord of the Rings trilogy as well as the prequel to the entire saga, The Samarillion. Personally, I thoroughly enjoy fiction. It can be a nice break from the mundane of everyday life. Plus, who doesn't enjoy a good story every now and again? The Fiddler's Gun was my satisfactory break from the heavier reading from the previous year. Without revealing too much I will say I was pleasantly surprised by the story. It was given to me for Christmas by my sister after I urged for more books as my gifts of choice. I had never heard of the author, A.S. Peterson, or read any of his prior work (actually this was his first novel but he has posted short stories on his site, thefiddlersgun.com). The story is about a young orphan girl and her struggles with acceptance and pain during the American Revolution. Peterson's story was gripping, emotional, adventurous, and riddled with both lovable and detestable characters. What is more, the story is only the first half of the tale. He plans on releasing the final chapter, The Fiddler's Green, over Christmas 2010 (*hint *hint). Hopefully, it will be another enjoyable break from the heavier reading I will be doing between now and then.

The book is filled with memorable moments, but one part from the beginning stood out particularly more than the others. (To ensure no spoiling for those of you who might indulge yourselves, this part is within the first hundred pages and not overly crucial to the developing story). The scene comes after the orphan, Fin, gets into some trouble even after being warned by the sister's running the orphanage. Not surprisingly, Fin is not particularly fond of these two women because of all the rules and restrictions they place upon her. She spends most of her adolescent life trying to escape their grasp and facing the consequences.

Sister Hilde's face lifted from her reading. She stood and placed the Bible on the mantle then sat down on the edge of the bed. Fin tried to roll over and turn away, but Hilde pulled her up into an embrace. She held Fin tight and rocked her. Fin looked up. She could hardly believe it. She had never imagined Hilde harbored a thimbleful of caring in her. "I'm sorry," cried Fin into Hilde's bony breast. "Hush, child," she whispered. Their embrace was long and difficult. Years of bitterness had spread a gulf between them too vast to span in so short a time. Hilde laid Fin back on her pillow and without speaking stood and left the room. Fin tried to remember the last time she'd actually touched Hilde. The only physical contact she'd ever had with the woman had been that of a disciplinary sort. How strange to be caressed by a hand that had only ever brought pain. (Peterson, pp. 87)

Without sharing too much about my emotions, this scene fogged up my glasses. Redemption should always be a beautiful thing to witness for anyone who has been redeemed by the Father through the Son. Even more, I loved seeing myself in this scene. I received saving grace at an early age, but continued to live out my faith as a set of rules inhibiting my ability to enjoy life for most of my adolescent years. It wasn't until college where I had an encounter similar to the one Fin had with sister Hilde.

I don't remember the offense, but I remember the shame and guilt that came soon after. I hid myself from God by withdrawing from His Word and the company of His people. Thankfully, He sought me out not as a slave driver seeking his property, but as a loving father searching for his son. In that moment, there was genuine confession followed by amazing forgiveness. But that was just the beginning. I can remember sensing the embrace of my heavenly Father as He restored my soul and hid me under the shelter of His wings. No more would I associate His hand with pain (though discipline is a part of the faith). For even amidst the shame and hurt of my failings, His hand is there to forgive, restore, and carry me forward.