by Joel Bates While most people eagerly await the countdown for the ball to drop on Time’s Square or lean in for that first kiss of the year or raise a glass to toast the end of another chapter, I think about the “Day One” adventure. Our family has developed this tradition of opening the year with an intrepid outing that goes back to my high school days when my dad and I attempted to summit the highest peak in my old stomping grounds, the Black Hills. Harney Peak, as it was called back then, rose up to a respectable height of nearly 8000 feet above sea level. However, it was not the altitude that created the most challenge. It was the deep snow pack that concealed the trail and often left us foraging waist deep in fresh powder and heaving for oxygen in the thin, cold air. Now that I live in Missouri, where the highest elevation in the state is but a trifle to the Rocky Mountain region, what we lack in altitude on our New Year’s Day hikes we make up for in distance. This year, we picked a seven-mile section of the Ozark Trail that we had never been on, which is saying something as I’ve spent the better part of the last 18 years leading backpacking trips on or near this fantastic path. Even if the trail offered little in the way of snow-packed, high mountain adversity or the promise of alpine vistas, it offered the key ingredient to all adventures…the unknown. As my wife and kids and I set out, it was not snow that covered the ground, but a thick carpet of fallen leaves that mostly obliterated the trail. Repeatedly, the lead hiker would veer off into the woods only to discover that there was no track. We would branch out until we found the path and call the others over to regain the trail. It took so much focus to remain on the path that we barely took in the scenery around us. About half way through the hike, we came into a section of trail that was maintained better and easer to follow. My spirit rose now as I trudged along finding that I could pay much more attention to my surroundings: the distant hills rising in the mist, the stag on the adjacent ridgeline, the crisp, pure air filling my lungs, and the silent amity of the old forest sentried by thick, aged oaks and tall, ragged pines. The destination lay clearly on the map, but how we would get there was a mystery unveiled only by continuing down the winding track. I felt a deep gratitude for this trail and all the trails I’ve trod and was reminded of one path in particular—the way of faith. It’s no surprise that trails are a common theme in scripture since everyone walked wherever they needed to go. Making a journey is a spiritual concept, and it is no surprise that paths make it easier to get where you’re going. The right trail makes all the difference in getting to the intended destination, and even now with modern maps and GPS, one can see how easy it is to lose one’s way and stray off course. God hasn’t left us to aimlessly walk our own way. Scriptures provide proof: You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11 You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Psalm 139:3 With weeping they shall come, and with pleas for mercy I will lead them back, I will make them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble, for I am a Father… Jeremiah 31:9 Scriptures like these magnify the Lord’s intentions to walk this journey with us, and there are even tools to help us navigate. Lead me in the path of your commandments, for I delight in it. Psalm 119:35 Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. Psalm 119:105 Whoever heeds instruction is on the path to life, but he who rejects reproof leads others astray. Proverbs 10:17 In the path of your judgments, O LORD, we wait for you; your name and remembrance are the desire of our soul. Isaiah 26:8 Through leadership, evident commands, the lamp of scripture, the light of God’s voice, the instructions and reproofs, and waiting on the Lord, we obtain exemplary tools for navigating this strange and wondrous course. But similar to hiking on a leaf-strewn path, the way can get confusing, and our sinful selves wander off the way, sometimes by our own willfulness. What then? One of my favorite passages of scripture comes to this trail traveler as a great comfort when I consider how perilous the way is and how many snares, and wrong turns there are. Isaiah beautifully addresses the traveler’s concern, And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:20-21 Can you just hear that whisper at the critical moment when you are desperate and don’t know which way to go? Maybe you’ve turned down the wrong path and been traveling for what seems like too long a time to turn back and ever find your way again. There is hope softly spoken. This deep, impenetrable comfort is for all of us who walk this trail of faith when we consider that the Holy Spirit is right there with us every step of the way—graciously, patiently, lovingly whispering the directions all along the way. Drawn to these thoughts by the simple ritual of an annual excursion—a day’s journey down a new trail—it merely marked the start of a new year. However, the eternal stakes of our life’s path and the direction we take are of supreme importance. As you consider your path in the coming year, the question is not simply are you walking on the Trinity’s trail and in the divine direction, but are you listening to the Whisperer of the way? But the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day. Proverbs 4:18 If you enjoyed this blog, check out Joel's new books.
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by Joel Bates “There’s going to be complications.” Now that statement immediately has my full attention and produces much anxiety. My wife is pregnant…really, I’m not kidding. and at her age—which I will not reveal in this writing for my own protection. When medical professionals examine her, they often warn, “There may be complications.” I went to the bank the other day to do something as simple as open a new account, and sure enough the teller informed me, “There may be complications.” I lead a small non-profit Christian adventure camp, where just describing what we do feels complicated. Added to that, I face keeping the place running and managing the overhead costs, recruiting and training staff, dealing with government red-tape, addressing insurance issues, developing marketing schemes, and implementing ministry programs. Sometimes I wring my hands and want to scream, “Why does it have to be so complicated?” Even a simple situation can become complicated—like discovering the toilet paper roll is empty and you need it right now! I really hate complications. Then the holidays arrive and, well, complications accompany them, too. Please don’t get me wrong. I love Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s, but let’s admit it; there’s going to be complications. Did I budget enough to get those gifts? Will people like what I got them? Which side of the family do we visit for Christmas? The church wants you to be in the choir or even more…the pageant. There’s the company party and decorating the house, sending the letters, trimming the tree, wrapping the presents. By the time the day comes to bake the turkey, your figurative goose is already cooked! Alternatively, consider the complicated feelings that rise to the surface for many who live through the holidays facing the loss of loved ones. How complicated it must be to long for the days when you had something other than heart ache to complicate your life! I was lamenting complications to my wife recently, and after listening to me complain, she reminded me that everyone has complications. We are all forced to live in a world where it’s common to hear, “There are going to be complications.” We all will face complexities, dilemmas, problems, trials, crises, pain, loss, tragedy, the unexpected, the unexplainable, frustrations, heart break, embitterment, obstructions, and confusion. There will be complications, and where is God in all this? Does He notice or even care? Is He simply above it all? There are three pictures that stand out to me when I consider the question of whether God notices or cares about our complications. Think back to the narrative of Christ’s birth. It’s easy to do that around Christmas, especially if you’ve gone through the mayhem of Black Friday shopping. Oh, little town of Bethlehem, how crowded and bustling we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, there is no silent night in the stable nor in the heavens because a war is raging in the cosmos between angelic forces at the birth of a King. In the little town, there is no room in the inn, and everyone’s irritated because they are a displaced people group, scraping out an existence in overcrowded conditions under Caesar’s cruel whims fed by insatiable greed. Held unaccountable, molesting Roman guards patrol the streets, so you’d better keep your wives and daughters close at hand. That’s the setting for the birth of the King of Kings. The scene is even more complicated, though. Mary will be forced to deliver the Christ child out back in a stable. Imagine the complications of finding the proper supplies for the job, the help necessary to aid her in birthing the Savior. Did Joseph have to obtain permission to use the stable and a permit to park the donkey outside? Imagine the braying and bleating, the street traffic, and the pounding pulse of a restless, clogged thoroughfare that usually provided sleepy passage through a backwater burg. And amid all this complication…a child is born. The Prince of Peace rests there in Mary’s arms. Fast forward about 30 years or so to a big lake on a dark night. A storm is kicking up to a full gale, causing even the seasoned fishermen in the boat to lose their cool. The Christ child born so many years ago is now a man on a mission, but presently He is fast asleep, peacefully resting in a boat that is being beaten by wind and waves. The scenario is plain to the salty seamen piloting the perilous craft. They are caught by surprise in the middle of the lake with nowhere to go but down. The solution is complicated. They cannot unfurl the sails for fear of capsizing. They cannot out row the gale for they haven’t the strength. They won’t outlast this storm, and they know it. So, they rouse the Man who is used to complication. He was born to it, made for it, angered by it, and rises to meet it. Wiping the tired from his salt-sprayed eyes and pulling back the wet, wind-whipped hair, He extends a hand to the mast to steady himself and cries out into the midst of the storm…the mayhem, the peril, the complications, “Peace! Be still.” And at the words of the Prince of Peace, all that was complicated becomes simple, silent, and serene. Fast forward again to a day where the sky looks much like that day on the lake as dark storm clouds gathered. A thick, ominous gloom lies heavily across the land. Sorrowful followers pull His limp body, or what’s left of it, from a cross and hurriedly entomb it. Life itself has left humanity, and most of humanity doesn’t even know it, doesn’t realize what they’d done as they laughed and jeered at the man, scorned Him, and spit upon His body. They had beaten and mocked Him and tried to tempt him to deny who He was. It is a time riddled with complications, but not for Jesus. The Pharisees, Sadducees, and religious leaders have had to compromise their staunchly held doctrines and even ignore their own laws to unite against Jesus. Herod has had to befriend Pilot, his Roman enemy, to see Jesus crucified. Pilot wrestles with his inner conflicts as he sentences a clearly innocent man to be executed. All of Jerusalem faces the complicated fact that they’d celebrated the Messiah and cried “Hosanna!” to Jesus just five days earlier and now shout, “Crucify Him!” in a frenzy on Friday. But Jesus, who had been born into complexity, who had grown accustomed to resting in the midst of problems, knows exactly what He is doing, and so He goes to the cross. He goes through with His death, serving all this complicated mess of humanity, including us today. With their Hope lying in that dark tomb, amid a hurting world where the demons rejoiced over the death of Emanuel, the disciples grieve the loss of their Lord. Jesus just lies there in that tomb, practicing what he preached and lived and demonstrating once again that He is the ultimate Prince of peace. Even death can’t rile Him. For He understands hope; in just a few short days He will rise once and for all and put an end to letting complications have the final word. He brings forth life and the solution to every complication. Now fast forward one more time to today…this moment, this holiday season. There may be a day, week or month ahead of you filled with the light and momentary complications of everyday life during the holiday season. Jesus is able to help you rise above the stress and bring you peace. Maybe it’s worse than that, and you’re in the storm of your life in a season where it looks like the boat is going to sink or capsize. Jesus will rise up, call out, and command the storm to be quiet. He still calm storms. Test him and see. Maybe there’s even more, and you’ve officially ruined your life. Maybe the enemy is tempting you to yank that steering wheel to drive into a tree and end it all. Maybe you’re staring at a bottle of pills that promise no more pain. Be assured, Jesus is not just the Prince of Peace for those with only slightly messed up, complicated lives. He is the Prince of Peace and the great Savior and Redeemer of totally lost causes. He was, for all the world knew, a lost cause as he lay in that dark tomb. But He knew the truth about complications: He’d been born into them, walked among them, ministered through them, and had never been overcome by them, thus proving that He is the Authority over all complicated scenarios that humanity faces. And He has given us an example of the appropriate response when we encounter life’s complications: Rest in Him and cast your complications upon Him for He is the Prince of Peace. by Joel BatesWe love telling stories at Discovery Ministries. Just about everything we do involves a story and invites a retelling. A group gets back from visiting the cave, and the stories begin. A youth group, split into two hiking groups, spends the day orienteering in different locations. They arrive back on camp late for dinner having experienced similar challenges and nearly identical weather and terrain, but the stories are vastly different. An expedition returns after being on the trail for a week, and there are more stories to tell than there is time to hear them—the details will unfold during the next few months.
If you’re like me, you crave a fresh perspective and a winsome new tale. I want a new movie more than a good flick I’ve seen before. Outdoor, experiential Christian ministry always results in a new experience and a great story to tell, but what about the old stories? Seeking new stories, we tend to forget the rich, old stories—stories that define us. A few weeks ago, as I sat in my office, I heard the interns rummaging through the storage closet. “We’re getting rid of old stuff,” one of them directed. She was holding an old, dusty three-ring binder that looked like it hadn’t been opened for at least a decade. “Do we need this?” she asked me. “What is it?” “Oh, just some old copies of past years’ receipt letters.” I shrugged my shoulders. We’ve been sending out monthly receipt letters for over 40 years at this point…letters informing our donors about the life and times of DM…letter after faithful letter by the hundreds. Who would miss the dusty, old reports? I was about to grant permission to destroy the binder when curiosity halted my reply, “Wait! Open it and read an excerpt before we toss them.” The intern thumbed through the pages to a receipt letter dated August, 1980-something. She began reading about how a group of college students from a local campus ministry had come to Discovery Ministries to help put up some drywall on one of our lodge buildings. As the intern continued reading, others working in the office stopped to listen. The letter told of groups who had visited the ministry for the first time and included a quote from one of the participants about how wonderful the experience of doing group initiatives had been. The letter closed with a word about how the staff members were faring at the end of another busy summer—weary but jubilant. After she read the last sentence, everyone was silent in the room, captivated by the voice of the past speaking into our here and now. “Wow,” someone whispered. “I just led group initiatives this morning.” Another intern added, “That was over thirty years ago, and it could have been describing what I did last week.” “Read another,” someone encouraged. Again, we heard a cheerful description of the life and times of our ministry from a bygone era, but the descriptions felt strangely familiar. “We can’t throw this away,” someone said. “It’s got too many great stories.” I couldn’t agree more. Stories are important, especial the old ones. I’m reminded of King Josiah’s story which is a story about finding a story. You see, Josiah was the grandson of Manasseh, one of the nastiest kings of the Bible. Miraculously, Manasseh repented in the end, but not before he had laid waste to the spiritual heritage of the kingdom of Judah. He killed the prophets, desecrated the temple, and demolished the public worship of Yahweh. His son Amon was no better, continuing in idol worship and general ungodliness. He was so intolerable that his subordinates assassinated him and placed his 8-year-old son, Josiah, on the throne. Josiah’s name meant, “Founded by God,” and that’s exactly what happened just a few years into Josiah’s reign. Against the odds, Josiah came to love the Lord so much that he threw himself into the restoration of Jewish worship. He set about renewing the nation’s relationship with Jehovah. The people experienced a revival and began remodeling their center for worship—the temple. It was there in the crumbly, dusty, woebegone house of the Lord that one of the priests found a story. It was a book actually that contained a forgotten, old, old story of God’s relationship with His people, the covenants they had made, and the promises of the Father to His children. The story was so powerful that when King Josiah heard it, he tore his robes in distress. He was the ignorant product of evil kings—a young man who loved a God he didn’t know very well—and he was in charge of a kingdom with a forgotten legacy. The story affected his soul and altered the course of history, bringing a blessing instead of a curse. There’s a great hymn that says, “Tell me the old, old story.” You may think you’ve heard it all before, but there’s still more. You may think we are living in a world too far gone—that the story is lost and no one remembers, but there is nothing that can destroy it. You may feel afraid to tell it—that you’ll get the details wrong, but it’s a story the world needs to hear! Have you rediscovered a dusty archive buried in the annals of ancient history? Do you remember a ministry story of how Jesus impacted people’s lives through challenge and adventure? Does the old, old story you’ve read a hundred times from the Bible still jump out at you, ready to redefine your purpose and rescue you from a mundane existence? Be bold and courageous. It’s time to tell the stories—the old, old stories! Looking for a stocking stuffer? Consider Joel Bates' new book, Life Outside! This is the perfect gift for someone who loves stories, the outdoors, adventure, and seeing God in new ways. |
Come along side us as we journey in and out of the wilderness, discovering our Creator in creation.
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