If you read blogs of other participants and staff on this
England Team, you might have come across some posts about a hike in the Lake
District about a fortnight ago. I’ve been thinking about that, and what there
is to say about it. Allow me to do so with the intent of putting a smile on
your face.
It was
one of the last bits of our ascent. My legs were shaking and my lungs were
burning. It was this wet, grassy slope and we were literally climbing up it. I had
to stop a few times on the way, briefly, to do that important oxygen intake,
carbon-dioxide output thing, otherwise known as breathing. I remember looking
down, thinking “the last time I was on a hill this steep was a double black
diamond ski slope in Vermont.” But I turned around and just kept pushing, not
thinking about how far I needed to go to reach the summit. All the wile, mind
you, I’ve been trying not to grab grass that has sheep dung on it. If you’ve
ever been to the undeveloped areas of the UK, you know that sheep abound, and
leave their evidences all around. I wasn’t really thinking about it, but now it
just boggles my mind that these sheep climb the same slope that is giving me so
much trouble. How do they do it, I have since wondered? Regardless, the last
couple of reaches to the top were before me. The apex was in sight. I merely
had to ignore all the signs my body was giving me to stop, and just lift my
legs and reach with my arms a few more times. I remember those last couple of
exertions I had to make, and that feeling that comes as you know you are
finally going to make it. I was so excited to just reach the summit, to get
that “mountaintop experience,” quite literally. I remember poking my head over
the brim, and feeling a cold blast of air hit my face. “I’m there!” I thought.
So I made the last leap necessary to stand on the top of the mountain. I lifted
my hands in the air to feel the wind hit me, to feel the sunshine hit my face,
to feel the adrenaline that accompanies accomplishments only like this. A
moment later, I lowered my hands to take a look around the area. My jaw
dropped.
A sheep. A stinking sheep was standing right there, right in
front of me, chewing some grass, just looking at me and chewing, with the most
un-phased look a sheep could give. “How in God’s Earth can a stinking sheep get
here?” I thought, as my legs were going into spasms and my lungs felt ready to
collapse. I must admit that I thought about pushing it off the mountain,
because I was so mad at it. Here, I have been using all my energy for a good
half hour ascending this slippery grass slope, and there is a stinking sheep
here! After a minute or two of watching this sheep look at me while chewing
grass, the passages in the Bible about sheep came to mind, namely the parable
of the Lost Sheep (Matthew 18:10-14). It struck me then: I’ve spent a few hours
scrambling up these hills, to find a sheep on the very top. I’ve been wheezing
and gasping for air, dealing with my legs burning all the while. And Jesus says
that he is like the Shepherd, who will leave 99 well-contained sheep, to
perhaps climb a mountain to find this one? The truth of the matter is that he
did a lot more than climb a mountain, but it certainly gave me a fresh
perspective on a parable.
In one
of my first blog posts, I explained why I feel called to Britain for mission
work. I mention a train ride in France, talking to a Huguenot. It was on that
train, talking with this man (named Baptiste) that I received the call for
mission work in Europe/UK. I’ve maintained correspondence with Baptiste, who is
now married and in full-time ministry. I just received a newsletter from him, and
he now has a video (in English) about the ministries he and his wife do. The link
to the video is on the right side of the homepage: http://2coeurspourservir.free.fr/topic/index.html
