It was just a wild rabbit. But it left me broken hearted and no one knew.
They all cheered. They told me what a good shot it was. They all were happy for me. I was at the lowest moment in my life at thirteen years of age. It became my bad that killed it ,and not someone elses.

I had heard the hunting stories for years of what fun my uncles and cousins would have in the field. I had tasted of the wild game’s soups and gravies. I wanted to so much be a part of that family.

I had finally reached a age where my parents gave in to my begging and allowed me to go. I was one of the hunters. I was so excited to be accepted. Not only to be old enough, but respected enough to be asked. I was a part of the group and had gone hunting on several outings, but it had yet to become my bad, or so I thought. When the moment of truth would arise I would shy away or pretend not to see the game that was about to be harvested. Someone else that was not afraid to take the blame for the bad, would step up, I got to see the results, and as far as I was concerned I was still blameless, if it was wrong? I had managed to see the killings that took place and distant myself from being the one that destroyed it. God had made it, it was alive and well, and when you hunt it, if you are sucsessful, you stop the life that God created. When you can get past the blame for the bad, you can prepare and partake of the flesh that will nourish your physical body and in a way, what you destroyed lives on in you.

My day had come. After several outtings with out becoming the killer, we arrived at my uncles home in a rual setting. And there in the front yard was a wild rabbit. To them a prime target and food for the table. To me what I knew to be, what was about to become, my bad. My aunt and several cousins told my uncle, "There is a rabbit in the front yard of the old house. "It would be a great target for me to achieve my first kill." And with every one watching I took aim and squeezed the trigger. The rabbit fell over and quivered as it died. They all cheered and patted me on the back, "What a shot!" They were happy for me and I was at the lowest point in my life. My feeling of destroying something God had made, had placed me at the most humble place in life. No one could tell, except me. I smiled on the outside but my heart was broke. Why had I ever said I wanted to do this? Would this feeling ever go away? Every one encouraged me, and tried and let me know it was a good thing. But I was having a lot of trouble convincing myself of it.

I spent everyday sense then wondering of that day. Pondering the emotions and heart ache that came from that event. And I know now the lesson I was to learn. The Blame of Christ death lies with us all. We can go through this life and never accept that bad, hoping against hope it never will become our bad. But the truth is, it was our bad that He had to die for. So that we could be forgiven, of our bad that we know is ours. He came to take the blame for all the bad, and it will be our bad we accept and know He died for, that allows us to partake of His flesh. It will be the most humbling experience in life and that state of humbleness is what you must have, to come to the throne of God.

You may not ever want to accept the Truth, but the Truth is, your bad is what Christ died for.

When you make it your bad He died for, that is when you can partake of what came with it. The Forgiveness.