Thursday, December 2, 2010

Travis Reill's Hinds Feet Reflection

In the summer of 2000 I had the hell scared out of me at Camp Kellogg; that is, it was then that I realized that I would go to hell because I was a sinner. Thus, the majority of my spiritual life growing up was devoted to trying to stay out of hell. I lived in between heaven and hell, knowing that if I was just good enough, did the right things, and, maybe most importantly, did not do the wrong things, that I would get the promise of heaven, this “end goal.” This was then reinforced, with good intentions, by Sunday School, youth group, moms, dads, grandmas and grandpas, sermons on Sundays, and probably a bit by the limited brain capacity of a sixth grader.

Of course I have grown since my middle school years at Camp Kellogg, and feel that I have more of an understanding of the Way of Jesus. My story has become one that is no longer about the “end goal,” trying to get into heaven and stay out of hell. It has become one that I hope says: By the grace of God through his son Jesus I’m given opportunity to travel this journey. The Jesus Way has become about just that—the way of Christ. It has become a trail of life that I travel with my brothers and sisters. We are given promises on this journey. Perhaps heaven is one of them. Suffering is a promise as well. But the most beautiful promise I find is that I don’t have to travel this trail alone. Just like Much-Afraid I am given traveling companions, partners in life. And, as Much-Afraid found out many times, the Shepard is just a cry away. He has promised not to leave us on this journey. I give thanks for these promises, however I must be careful to live for the one who makes and keeps the promises, not the promises themselves. Which will I love?

Much-Afraid is going through a similar journey when this idea comes to the forefront of the story. She has traveled an incredible journey, seen the Shepard work and change her from the inside out. She has seen the promises he made kept, and she continues to journey toward the High Places. Yet there is a turning point where the Shepard questions Much-Afraid, a question that stirs in me feelings that I don’t quite understand nor to I want to come to grips with. Before entering into the Valley of Loss the Shepard asked Much-Afraid if she would still follow him if all that he told her—all the promises he made, a new name, High Places, hinds feet—if all of it were a lie. Which did she love, which did she trust in, which did she follow? Her response was beautiful, a criticism and conviction to my being: “Nothing else really matters,” she said to herself, “only to love him and to do what he tells me. I don’t know quite why it should be so, but it is. All time it is suffering to love and sorrow to love, but it is lovely to love him in spite of this, and if I should cease to do so, I should cease to exist.” (152) What a love, what a relationship! I am reminded of Paul telling the Philippians that he considered all things a loss when compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ, Much-Afraid’s Shepard.

Yes, I have moved pass this idea of working towards an “end goal.” Working towards heaven is no longer what consumes me in my Christian walk. Yet have I just traded one for the other? Promise for promise? Can I look into my life, seeing all that there is and truly say, like Much-Afraid, that it is lovely to love him in spite of everything, and if I should cease to do so, I should cease to exist?

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