Guiltless!
Journeying through the meandering waterways of northern Minnesota (see below) reminded me of Paul’s hopeful point in 1 Corinthians 1:8, wherein he speaks of the Great God “who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.” What a terrific note of encouraging hopefulness, that we have one whose ability to cause us to endure will never falter. And what a wonderful sign of God’s grace, that we are reckoned “guiltless.” Indeed, this is a worthy journey!
Trekking Through the Boundary Waters
Why they invited me is beyond me, but I am thrilled that I decided to join Scofield’s college ministry (called “Scollege”) on their weeklong trek through the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota. It was nothing short of incredible.
The invitation came this past spring. In short, it was an invitation to spend several days canoeing the vast stretch of lakes and rivers that unite the Canadian border with Minnesota’s Superior National Forest. We would have to deal with thousands of mosquitos, biting flies, challenging portages through leech-laden mud and swamps, and, or course, the utilitzation of muscles rarely used unless one canoes on a day-to-day basis.
However, depsite those supposed downsides, the benefits were unbelievable. After all, I got to spend 24/7 with eight incredible men whose love for the Lord and for one another whetted my appetite and made me wish I had even half of their Christ-likeness when I was a college student.
Spending day in and day out in a place where cell phones did not work, no motorized vehicles could be seen or heard, computers were no where to be found, and time seemed to stand still was exceedingly refreshing. The silence was, frankly, defeaning. All of us took note, and all of us acknowledged we have way too much noise in our lives. When the most you hear for days on end is the gentle whisper of the breeze through towering pine trees or the smack of paddles against bourbon colored water, you cannot help but return to the concrete jungle a bit more cynical about all of the bleeps and dings and rings. Having captured some of the quiet, you desperately want to keep it with you. The thirst for silence is, I suppose, somehow built into us. That is one of life’s ironies. We all desire the downtime, but we live at such a pace so as to refuse it. Without all of our noise we are fearful of some terrible detachment. Sadly, it is all the noise that makes us most detached from ourselves; and perhaps God himself.
The quiet was a big deal. But then so was the community. I cannot remember the last time I laughed to the point of tears, ached so easily because of the understandable fears of the men in our group, was compelled to cheer on those whose weariness could have otherwise brought them down to the mud, or felt such complete and genuine comraderie among men desperately seeking to dignify God in a world in which living is difficult at best and nightmarish at worst. One would have thought we guys had known each other all of our lives. But then again, in some way we have, for our common fears and hopes and dreams and dilemmas easily forge a sympathy that resonates regardless of generations or background or skin color or aspiration. We were all, in so many ways, wanting the same thing: to be noble men walking with our Creator.
Quietness and community in the border waters. What in the world would keep us from having that here in Dallas?