11/12/2025
Awakening Story 2: The Stillness and the Spark
The memory of the taxidermy center—the hollow eyes, the oppressive silence, the whirlwind of the Holy Spirit—lingers still. That day marked the initial rupture in the wall of my self-centered life, a divine intrusion that demanded I see the world with new eyes. But an awakening is rarely a single, lightning-strike event; it is a series of whispers that grow into a clear voice. If the first story was the chaotic whirlwind that broke my complacency, the second was the quiet stillness that began to rebuild my understanding.
It was several years later. My life had shifted subtly since the incident with Rob; the world seemed a little sharper, its suffering a little more apparent. Yet, I was still fundamentally adrift, seeking purpose in the wrong places, still engaging in the same cycles of dating and social events.
Once again, I found myself at the fair, on a date with a handsome, fun-to-be-with guy I’ll call Nicholas. He was a bit nicer than Rob, though, seeming to value and respect my thoughts and opinions. As before, my excitement about the fair was rooted in the simple pleasures—and I couldn't wait to enter the animal barn.
I visited with the bunnies first, amazed at how beautiful and exotic they were. My heart felt light as I moved through the exhibits, until I stumbled across a pen where two young pigs were sleeping. They were snuggled deep in a bed of straw, twitching softly as they dreamed.
I became lost in the moment, gazing lovingly at the two little creatures. I imagined them running through fields of flowers, full of life and joy. I never in my life saw something so precious and innocent. In that moment of simple connection, a profound sense of peace washed over me, a gentle confirmation of the value of all life.
It was then that the quiet stillness of God’s presence settled upon me, echoing Isaiah 43:2: "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you," gently affirming that even in my unawareness, He was pressing on my heart all along.
A powerful realization hit me like a light bulb switching on, a revelation that did not simply come from nowhere but felt divinely prompted. I am eating them.
This thought was followed immediately by a second, devastating revelation: if I am eating these pigs, I am causing them suffering and pain. The reality of my consumption slammed into me, contrasting sharply with the innocence sleeping on the straw.
In that quiet moment, the Lord opened my heart to understand the practical application of the compassion I had felt years ago. I realized that my choices had direct consequences on these specific, dreaming souls because God’s nature is universal mercy.
I tempered my companion, who had faithfully stayed by my side through the entire experience. I looked at him, tears welling in my eyes, and said the words that changed everything: “I am never eating pigs again.”
And I didn’t.
This experience, in its peaceful simplicity, was an answer to the groaning I’d felt in the taxidermy center. The Spirit was connecting the dots, revealing the profound truth I felt in my core: “The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made.” (Psalm 145:9)
But the story didn't end there. In that moment, among the straw and the sleeping pigs, I only committed to a single step. I didn't yet understand the full calling, only that I could no longer participate in the suffering of these specific animals. It was a crucial, necessary step in a much longer journey, a call to cherish the living that would require more awakenings to fully embrace the mission I live today.
Scripture Reference:
Psalm 145:9: “The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made.”
Isaiah 43:2: "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."
