The Shepherd and I
went on our first foray together into the mountain. The hike was
not difficult -- I think He took me on the easy route as the way, though
leading upwards, was quite effortless. As we walked, I found
myself completely captivated by the stories He told. Stories of how He
created a relationship with the inhabitants of this mountain. I
clearly saw His acts of eager sacrifice and unwavering
commitment often in the face of neglect, ungratefulness, and even
selfish cruelty. His kindness was the source for the development of their
villages, farms, and hamlets. Fondness for this shepherd of mine grew deeper
as I perceived more of His character.
Our resting spot was near the top of a small fountain from which a stream runs down the mountain side and through the valley. Along its path, I could see my little hamlet not far off and, further down the water's path, other villages that had built themselves up. I saw sunlight dancing off the tops of the variegated forest lining the sloping mountain. I saw those forests open up onto brilliant green fields where sheep quietly grazed and little lambs skipped together. I saw villages with red and pink rose gardens and sky blue lamp posts crowned with flower baskets. Children were running and playing on a farm not far from the sparkling, meandering stream. I heard cow bells echoing off the mountain side and church bells chiming the quarter hour. I felt heady and ethereal from the intense beauty before me. I could not have turned my gaze except for the gentle pressing of my Shepherd. He had more to show me.
Taking my hand, He helped me up a steep incline thick with pine trees and undergrowth. He grasped the pine branches and needle-shaped leaves, then pulled me up to Himself. His hands were used to such roughness. Mine would require more time. The trees opened abruptly into nothingness, and a hot, harsh sunlight bore down on us. As my eyes adjusted, I startled at the mountain across the way. Dangerously narrow paths lined the rocky wall. Spindly outgrowths appeared as though a strong grasping hand would send them and the traveler plunging down the steep slopes. I had expected to see a panorama as lush and beautiful as my mountain, where my own little hamlet lie nestled. Instead, this mountainside lay lifeless.
I abhorred the thought of such harsh, unforgiving ugliness so close to my beautiful home. "Why must it be?" I asked angrily. The shepherd led me away, back down to the fountain.
"What is the difference between the two mountains?" "Why can't all mountains be like mine?" "What prevents this mountain from becoming as that one?" As the questions came flying from my lips, I felt fear shadowing my happy heart. He cupped the fountain's water in his hand and drank from it. He invited me to drink as well. It was sweet, cold, calming.
“Barrenness is discovered on the path that leads away from life,” he said.
Every day, we have the opportunity to choose the path of life and fruit or the path of death and barrenness. The opportunity may come as a harsh word from a neighbor, a slight from a friend, a selfish act of a loved one. How will we respond? Each time we choose life, we invite others to join us, to taste of its water, at least to smell the inviting freshness it promises.
Interacting with my Shepherd revealed to me my propensity to walk the barren path. But my Shepherd left me with a parting gift: He planted within me a homing desire for life, that is, in the moment of opportunity, I hear Him whisper, “Choose life.”
Next Post in Series: The Invitation
Previous Post in Series: Secrets of the Mountain
Our resting spot was near the top of a small fountain from which a stream runs down the mountain side and through the valley. Along its path, I could see my little hamlet not far off and, further down the water's path, other villages that had built themselves up. I saw sunlight dancing off the tops of the variegated forest lining the sloping mountain. I saw those forests open up onto brilliant green fields where sheep quietly grazed and little lambs skipped together. I saw villages with red and pink rose gardens and sky blue lamp posts crowned with flower baskets. Children were running and playing on a farm not far from the sparkling, meandering stream. I heard cow bells echoing off the mountain side and church bells chiming the quarter hour. I felt heady and ethereal from the intense beauty before me. I could not have turned my gaze except for the gentle pressing of my Shepherd. He had more to show me.
Taking my hand, He helped me up a steep incline thick with pine trees and undergrowth. He grasped the pine branches and needle-shaped leaves, then pulled me up to Himself. His hands were used to such roughness. Mine would require more time. The trees opened abruptly into nothingness, and a hot, harsh sunlight bore down on us. As my eyes adjusted, I startled at the mountain across the way. Dangerously narrow paths lined the rocky wall. Spindly outgrowths appeared as though a strong grasping hand would send them and the traveler plunging down the steep slopes. I had expected to see a panorama as lush and beautiful as my mountain, where my own little hamlet lie nestled. Instead, this mountainside lay lifeless.
I abhorred the thought of such harsh, unforgiving ugliness so close to my beautiful home. "Why must it be?" I asked angrily. The shepherd led me away, back down to the fountain.
"What is the difference between the two mountains?" "Why can't all mountains be like mine?" "What prevents this mountain from becoming as that one?" As the questions came flying from my lips, I felt fear shadowing my happy heart. He cupped the fountain's water in his hand and drank from it. He invited me to drink as well. It was sweet, cold, calming.
“Barrenness is discovered on the path that leads away from life,” he said.
Every day, we have the opportunity to choose the path of life and fruit or the path of death and barrenness. The opportunity may come as a harsh word from a neighbor, a slight from a friend, a selfish act of a loved one. How will we respond? Each time we choose life, we invite others to join us, to taste of its water, at least to smell the inviting freshness it promises.
Interacting with my Shepherd revealed to me my propensity to walk the barren path. But my Shepherd left me with a parting gift: He planted within me a homing desire for life, that is, in the moment of opportunity, I hear Him whisper, “Choose life.”
Next Post in Series: The Invitation
Previous Post in Series: Secrets of the Mountain
No comments:
Post a Comment