Martho is viewed as a hero. The pride of our old Jurassic tier (hall of cells.) He knows he’s dearly loved, so he struts like a celebrity. It’s rare that one of us doesn’t offer him a meal at least once a day. Martho always openly accepts the meals with glee.
Martho doesn’t stay put for long; he is always active, coming in and out of the building dozens of times a day. Even with a well-rounded belly (from all the free meals he eats), he still moves with light feet and acrobatic agility. I’m not sure when he sleeps because at all hours of the day Martho can be spotted roaming around.
About six months ago Martho was found all alone, in a dark corner, caring the best he could for his wounds. His friends and family had turned against him, attacked him, and left him for dead.
When Martho was found he was thin, shaking, and barely breathing. Martho was given simple first aid to clean the wounds, along with a good warm bath to clean every inch of him. And some very good food to give him nutrition. (Side note: when Martho was found, we thought he was a Martha … but quickly learned he was a Martho.)
Martho has been a key ally in the battle to control our rat problem. Almost daily Martho is seen with at least three rats in his mouth. Martho has a natural-born instinct to trap and kill rodents. It’s not a surprise to us for Martho is a cat; one of the many that live in the small, dark wrinkles of this aging prison.
I’m not sure why we all love Martho as much as we do. There are dozens of prison cats all over, so why Martho?
I think it’s because Martho’s story reminds us of ours. As inmates in a prison, it is obvious that somehow we each lost our way. In our lost journey we ended up in life’s dark corner, drowning in our sins. Trying to care for our oozing wounds, choking from the stench. Hopeless. Future-less.
Yet in that dark corner Abba Father reached down and rescued us from death. He gave us heavenly first aid and anointed us with His holy healing oil (the Spirit.) He washed us in Yeshua’s blood and cleansed our filthy rags, making them as white as snow. He saved us, adopted us into His family, and has been feeding us His Word.
When I see Martho, I take a quick second to thank God for saving me from death’s grip. If it were not for His love, grace, and sacrifice I’m not sure I would still be alive.
Have you taken the time to thank God for rescuing you from death’s grip? Life is so busy at times that we forget from where Father rescued us.
How about you thank Him now?
… proud of being a rescued one …
Adrian G. Torres