“UNCLE!”

k1157108“Say it!” He yelled. I hesitated for a few seconds considering his demand and replied a resounding, “No!” My big brother had me pinned to the ground, legs tied up with my left arm pinned conveniently underneath me while he pushed my folded pinky finger back against the body of the finger with both hands.

“I said say it!” He demanded even more emphatically as he squeezed the finger in half like locked in a vise. It was excruciating. I thought seriously about giving into his command and saying it, but something stole the words from my intellect, “Never!” I screamed.

“Your finger is about to break! – You want me to break it?!” He yelled trying to persuade me to give in. It didn’t take long to decide… “I’m not sayin’ it!” I shouted in maddening pain. “You idiot!” My big brother half laughed and let my finger and body go. I writhed on the ground holding my still aching pinky finger, wiggling it a bit trying to see if it was still operational.

“I almost broke your finger!” He said irritated and yet puzzled, “Why don’t you just say uncle?” He asked. “I don’t know?” I answered in all honesty. It would be decades later until I began to discover what makes some folks do what they do. On other rare occasions when I’d be lucky enough to get a reversal of fortunes, it didn’t play out the same way in our opposite roles.

I didn’t have the strength or finesse to “milk the mouse” like my big brother did. My basic but efficient move was a little more straight forward in my quest to have my big brother say “uncle” or “King Floyd.”

I’d grab one finger with my entire hand or hands and start to bend it backward toward the top of his hand. I’d apply a good amount of pressure and relish being in control while I commanded with a devious smile, “Say it!” I’d order. “No!” He’d strain trying to get out of the predicament and endure the pain.

I was less than patient… I’d quickly continue the painful finger journey to the back of my big brother’s hand with no other desired outcome than to hear the words, begging and mercy weren’t part of the thought process… “I said say it!” I demanded with no emotion or remorse. “King Floyd, King Floyd!” He’d give in to my delight.

Maybe I’d come out on the short end of that deal so often that it made me more willing to hurt my brother… or maybe winning meant too much to me… The world is filled with people who possess so much pride and insecurity they often act like kids lacking wisdom and maturity… I see it all around me.. and in me sometimes still…

The drive to win, succeed, be right, and be recognized declares our lack of God in us. The world in which God made, sustains, and where His Son sacrificed for others demonstrates the humility and love in Him. The fallen world is susceptible to being “as Gods”… some things never change… The fallen nature that wants to be first…

We wouldn’t say it like Lucifer did; “As the most High,” but our actions reveal the same heart. It’s difficult to grasp with our senses that, “Who is first will be last,” as we push toward the front of the line of life. There’s only one King whose worthy to own that title…

His humility, love, and grace, keep Him from “milking the mouse” to make us speak that truth… When we should be screaming it…