Yoder: Who is Your Goliath?

By Kathy Yoder

So powerful are his footsteps. So mean is his face–a permanent snarl–that when he walks, even the earth trembles. He doesn’t talk. He growls. Many men, who are themselves big and strong, whimper at the mere sight of him.

“Fee. Fi. Fo. Foo. I’m hungry. I think you’ll do.”

This memory recently returned. My husband was in the hospital when I came to him and said with great emotion, “There’s a mouse in our house. A mouse!”

He smiled and said, “It’s just a mouse.”

“Exactly! A mouse!”

“Set a trap and catch it.”

“No. I…I can’t.”

“Kathy, maybe this is your Goliath.”

I must admit that it did seem like an impossible feat to deal with this mouse. A gigantic task. “But…but… it’s a …mouse,” I said with a tiny, squeaky voice.

“You can do it.”

So, I prayed about it. Our son, Ethan, was visiting. Before he left he bought a mouse trap and a box of poison. But I had to set the trap. “Just buy some peanut butter, but put it on the trap before you set it. Then put an empty cereal box on the counter. Set the trap and slide it inside the box. After you catch him, just pick up the box and place it in the trash. It’s as simple as that.”

“But if I set the trap, then I might catch the mouse and then I’d have to do something with him,” I said with a trembling voice. Later that day, I came home and immediately saw that the box of poison had moved. I went upstairs the rest of the night. Hunger took over, so I ran down the steps, went into the kitchen and grabbed a banana from the refrigerator. Then I ran back upstairs to safety. The next morning, I skipped breakfast and left as soon as I could.

His strength is the stuff from which legends are made. His arms, strong and powerful, look more like tree trunks than human limbs. He’s the ultimate secret weapon. When people see him, they know the outcome before the fight. They’ll most likely die, so they turn around and run as fast as they can.

“Fee. Fi. Fo. Foo. I’m hungry. I think you’ll do.”

At the hospital the first thing my husband said wasn’t “Hi.” It was: “Is he gone?”

“No.” I told him about my banana supper and the no breakfast that morning.

He smiled kindly, patiently, and said again, “Maybe this is your Goliath.”

“What?”

“Maybe this mouse is your Goliath.”

So, I looked in the yellow pages and prayed about who to call. I called an exterminator. “My husband’s in the hospital and there’s a mouse in the house. Can you help me?”

He came to my house immediately. He was kind and good. He calmly told me to wait outside. He wasn’t gone very long. Smiling, he said to me, “You will not have another mouse.” He said it with absolute certainty. And guess what? I never did. But there’s another part to this story. He said to me, “We know the good you do. We’re proud of you.” Later, I looked in the yellow pages again and he wasn’t there. My question has been ever since: Did I entertain an angel?

All run except one. You might think that the one who stays is bigger and more powerful. You might believe that might makes right. Wrong. He’s small and weak. A boy, not a man. But he has a secret weapon. Is it his sling shot? No. It’s faith in God.

“All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands” (1 Samuel 17:47).

That same day I went to a mid-week program for children. Someone else told the story that night. It was the story of David and Goliath.

The next day I was talking with a friend about an incident with another person we both know. Not as gossip, but seeking help and advice.

“You didn’t tell me what was going on.”

“I thought it would work itself out. I don’t like angry people, especially when they yell. It makes me feel like a little girl.”

“But you’re not a little girl.”

“I know.”

“Maybe this is your Goliath.”

“What did you say?”

“Maybe this is your Goliath.”

So I told her the whole mouse story. She smiled. When it comes to me, nothing seems to surprise her.

The next day I was home working in the yard, raking and pruning a bush. I threw the cut branches into a pile. I pulled one out. As it landed on the green grass, something looked familiar. The branch was the perfect shape of a sling shot.

What’s your Goliath? Who’s holding you hostage? What seems impossible? Take all your Goliaths and give them to God. Nothing’s too big, too hard, too gigantic for Him!

Fee. Fi. Fo. Fee. I love God and He loves me.

Kathy Yoder is a devotional writer and Christian author. She may be reached at Kathyyoder4@gmail.com and Kathyyoder.com.