Joanna Miller's Hinds Feet Reflection

Hinds Feet for High Places

Chapter 7: On the Shores of Loneliness-- This is me.

"Somehow, incredible as it was, she, Much-Afraid, had been enabled to accept the knowledge and to acquiesce in it, and she knew within herself that with that acceptance a gulf had opened between herself and her past life, even between her past self; a gulf which could never again be closed."

So often in life we feel trapped in our past, trapped in who we were. We don’t see a way out because, well, you can’t change the past, and all of those experiences you had growing up make up the pieces of the person you are becoming. What is simply amazing about our Shepherd is that He has the ability and the desire to wash, empty, and renew us, and if we let Him (that is the key you know); He will fulfill His promise. When I contemplate who I once was, when I look across the ravine at the person I used to be, I feel weightless and elated to know that Christ has taken the burden of my sins, and yet, in my flesh I am sad to know that I will never be able to return to the purely selfish person I once was. This person was fine to be isolated, and to consume with every breath she took. She knew all the right things to say, but didn’t once act on them. She knew how to lie to herself, and that at the end of the day; it was her own self-preservation that was important. But I accepted the knowledge, and now there is this terrifying gulf lingering in the background, with the girl I once was gazing, glassy-eyed, void of all meaning and existence, for the old is gone, and the new has come. I am a new creation in Christ. “I was that woman, but I am not that woman now.”

"Looking over the edge of the cliff, she saw that the cove which had been so empty was now filled to the brim. Great waves, roaring and laughing together, were pouring themselves through the narrow inlet and were leaping against the sides, irresistibly taking possession of every empty niche and crevice."

When I think of the word empty I think of it in two ways, one has a positive spin, because you know that you will be filled soon, the other is a dark feeling. The pain cannot be articulated, but soon your body just resorts to numbness. Void of feeling, your face expressionless, you try to somehow make sense of life, of existence, of what is real and what isn’t. For so long all I could do was weep, and express the longing to no longer be empty. Sure I had asked for it, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted a spiritual high, and then to be “filled”. I wanted to consume. But when I finally surrendered all over to Christ might has well have said, “Alright, this is going to hurt, and after a while you may not feel anything, and that is going to suck even more. But I’m not going anywhere, and I will come when you call. Be sure to lean on your brothers and sisters in Christ, because they were put there to help you carry this emptiness, this numbness. You desire to be new, let me empty you entirely of who you once were, and let me fill you with the most exquisite water ever in existence, My Spirit, My mercy, My love.” And he truly has fulfilled this promise. Now everyday not only am I emptied, but I am filled. I hope that what people see isn’t the empty cove scattered with garbage and debris, but that they see a cove overflowing with living water.

Cassie Boddington's Hinds Feet Reflection

Theres not much in life that I’m not willing to do that seems scary, jump out of a plane, go white water rafting, run with the bulls, but to be honest it’s an act. I very much try to act like this tough girl who is capable of taking care of herself and able to do extreme things. Its a defensive act so you wont know the deep within me, that you won’t figure out that I am scared of the dark, ghosts, being weak, vulnerability, pain.

A few chapters into this book, I was scared. Because I found my own story within Much Afraid’s story. In the 2nd chapter of this book I found myself between the pages when the fearing family invaded Much Afraid’s house when the shepherd was walking by and calling for Much Afraid to come but instead she sat there, and let the shepherd walk away because her family was there. “She was too stunned with fear to seize the opportunity, and then it was too late. The next moment she felt Coward’s heavy hand laid tightly over her mouth, then other hands gripped her firmly and held her in the chair. So the shepherd slowly passed the cottage…but receiving no response of any kind.”.

I wanted to stop reading because I was afraid of the things that were to come next in the story, things that I did not want to face inside my own story. Like Much Afraid I am afraid of my family, not so much in physical harm but I am afraid of the pain and hurt deep within my soul that was caused by my family, afraid that I am not pleasing them with my life. I am a coward, afraid to face that pain and ashamed to call out for help. I am afraid of reconciliation with that pain because it means making myself vulnerable, I still find desire within me to please my family and win their approval. I am learning like Much Afraid that their approval is not the one I should be seeking but the approval of the Chief Shepherd, and seeking his will for my life not my own. I am learning to accept with joy the things that have happened in my life because without those challenges I would not be able to learn and grow and be the person I am today but even more be apart of this body of Christ. As Paul states in 2 Timothy God did not give us a spirit of fear but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline. I am finding that spirit within the body of Christ. It encourages me to keep traveling down this road of sorrow and suffering and face my fears and to call out for help because the joy and love on the other side is worth it. Even when it comes to the point of standing over a valley with the Shepherd, and him asking me to give up everything I had learned or journeyed through climbing up, to lose it all for the shepherd and to go down into the valley, go down as water does. To go down is still worth it, it is the greatest joy of all.

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?

Travis Reill's Water Song Reflection

Water Song-

The call of the water in the ‘Water Song’ is to go down. Down to the low places from the very high places. Not only is the water on a journey downward but it is “happy to go low.” I question what joy can be found in the low places and I most certainly question what joy can be found in such a self-giving spirit. Yet the water found a spirit of contempt and joy in such a situation. I also thought it was interesting how quickly this self-giving attitude was introduced into the story. Yet as I look at scripture I find a common theme of self-sacrifice due to the spirit of God.

Matthew 16, near the end of the chapter, reminds us to take up our cross and follow Christ, for “whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” Christ is calling us to find our life in him, being reading and waiting to due his will. We find this passage in the same scene where Peter is trying to tell Christ he’d never let anything happen to him. Jesus responds to Peter calling him “Satan;” harsh words no matter who you are. Peter was attempting to be in the way of Christ doing the will of his Father-giving of himself. Peter wanted to stay in the “high places” with Christ but was strongly rebuked, as Christ knew that the will of his Father was to pour out his spirit. (I also find it interesting that this passage comes right after Peter’s confession of Christ, but that is a different discussion.)

Philippians 2, need I say more?! Imitating Christ humility. Paul reminds us that the Holy One sent from God made himself into nothing, taking on the nature of a servant. Christ died a sinner’s death, humble and low. Then Paul, after talking of Christ’s humility, tells them to continue in the salvation in the same way:

“…in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life—in order that I may boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor for nothing.”

This ‘shinning’ Paul talks about is done in this “crooked and depraved generation.” Later Paul goes on to tell the Philippians that “even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you.” Paul is one to take the example of Christ, find his way to the low places, serve with joy, and advance the gospel, even, at times, while in chains.

Trevor Williams Water Song Reflection

The water song to me represents the call of Christ; the call that is made to every disciple: to come and die. The only way we can join God in his being is to, like the water, go farther and farther down to the depths of who we are, letting God strip away what is false. The only way we can rise to the High Places is to bring ourselves to the lowest, giving Christ alone the place of Lord.

During the celebration of the faithful put on by the Church of the Servant King last week there was one cameo that stood out especially to me, an african slave in the 1700's named Amus Fortune. This brother was pulled into a life he did not choose, and made a slave to injustice, yet in his soul he was no slave to his circumstances; his lord was the one who has already endured all suffering and shame.

For me, one of the biggest stumbling blocks to surrender to God is the ability to choose the way in which my life plays out. I am very much a participant of the mindset portrayed within the 'American Dream' that I can be a 'self made man' and pave my own road. In the stories of Amus and other faithful servants of Christ, I see lives that were subject to not only horrific but also banal circumstance. What is it to go to the depths than to be faithful to the Lord in the undesirable and commonplace turns which life takes?

“Hear the summons night and day, Calling us to come away. From the heights we leap and flow to the valleys down below.” The valley to me is the life that I do not choose. I am called to come away from my fantasy world where I am God to a world where I am faithful to the one who created me no matter what. There are going to be places I don't like, people I don't want to be with, boring times, and failed plans. The song of the water, however, is one of joy. And only the Great Shepherd can teach me it's tongue, because I really don't want the life I choose; my fleshly satisfaction is fleeting. The depths of my soul long to be brought to the lowest of lows, where my King has gone before me. It is only there that I can then “rise again.”

Rachael Reill's Water Song Reflection

The water gives of itself, gives life as it travels farther and farther into the valley and away from the Mountaintops. The raging river loses of its volume as it travels such distances, being reduced to a small stream. Rushing forward to its immanent death, I am struck by the joy that is present in the fulfilling of the purpose for which it was created. Joy is found in the midst of suffering, “Sweetest urge and sweetest pain,” because of the assurance of hope for future glory, “to go low and rise again.”

The Mountaintops are pretty comfortable, but we were not created to live out our lives separate from the world. We have meaning and purpose. We were intended to travel low and give freely of ourselves, our love, as we reach those in need. As western Christians who suffer very little, we tend to think that this journey of the Christian faith is one of self-glorification. It is intended for me to arrive at glory through obtaining perfection and then pitch my tent there for the rest of my days. We are wrong; we were never intended to camp on the mountaintops. We have been called to go into all the nations and share the Good News. We were not saved from this life that is often painful, but for a purpose; that we can share this message of a great Love.

Amanda Paxton's Water Song Reflection

The water is beckoned downward by forces of gravity and momentum much faster than it can even realize. Soaking oneself in the Spirit, jumping off the rock and letting go of the bank's branches sends a man careening down a path that he himself cannot determine but can only discover. He does not moderate the speed, but has rather already released his right to decide it. He can not predict much ahead, but only recognize the patterns of how the riverbed tends to curve and what affect the rocks have on his limbs each time the waterfall renders injury unavoidable.

In my own life, my desire is to be released to that rushing journey, trusting that God will provide the areas of calm water where I can rest and my wounds will be nursed. Continually, though, and without my plan, I know that God's river will always be a step ahead of me. I will not be dragged or pulled, but rather swept away--sometimes with my eyes smashed shut, and sometimes whimpering in fear, but always gripping tightly to His hand as we go down together. The lowest places are both the most and least lonely--but the ironic joy of the low places is that God's promise is that I'll never truly be released into the hands of the true lowest places. Just as jumping off a cliff may feel like a complete release into death, God's promise is that the parachute cord will never fail and my two feet will undoubtedly hit the ground in the end, to a place where death is just a memory and tears are no more. With this promise, I plug my nose and cannonball into the water, resting in the hope that He's sweeping me away towards eternity with Him.