Backwoods Pew

Whenever I see a stand of flooded timber, I am re mind ed of the many summer vacations I spent at my grandparents in Arkansas. My dad and I would fish any place we could find water. One of our favorite spots was a relatively small lake, which used to be a stand of timber. Having never seen it prior to its flooding, I can’t say whether beavers had any say in its creation. But the former trees must have been impressive. The trees, not liking water, had succumbed to the inevitable, and were nothing more than tall wooden skeletons, dropping branches and falling at random. In this clutter of debris, amongst the accumulated submerged brush, was a fishing paradise.

There were a few things one had to be mindful of when fishing this lake; call them rules to live by perhaps. Number one: don’t run your boat on a stump or across a submerged log. The rider at the front of the boat had to be on constant lookout, to call out where the debris was located, debris that would tear a motor apart or rip a hole in the boat. That lookout was me. When I failed, a “paddling” would be the result. Yes, as the motor with a sheared prop would no longer push the boat, my dad would reach for the paddle and hand it to me. As he prepared to fish, I began to paddle the boat.

A second truth, repeatedly verified by experience, was that monofilament fishing line, in the hands of an eager young fisherman, must land in the water to qualify as fishing. Experience showed a tendency for that line to cling to the trees. As a for ester, I now understand why so many of my casts wound up in the trees; obviously, there was a natural attraction between me and trees. My shipmate saw it differently. Soon we would be out in that limited amount of open water along the dam where the relationship between me and the trees could be severed, and the line could actually make it to the water.

A final truth learned from that lake was that old standard BB guns do not kill cottonmouth moccasins, but rather they make them mad! One morning after a well-placed shot, the moccasin commenced to do a series of acrobatic twirls in the water, only to disappear under the water. My elation that the villain had been slayed was short lived, however. The snake came back to the surface of the water and charged the boat; he was cocked and ready to fight.

Sometimes life is a lot like that lake: once a promising stand of tim-

ber on dry ground, and then comes change. Like the landowner who decides to accept fate by allowing his forest to turn into a lake, we find ourselves in the same location; but the debris and skeletons of the past are still present. Our new environment has promise, much potential, but certain rules need to be followed, or the collisions with the past will cause damage. Be alert, watch the Antill path for obstructions. Remove from me the way of lying, and grant me Your law graciously. I have chosen the way of truth; your judgments I have laid before me. I cling to Your testimonies; O LORD, do not put me to shame! I will run the course of Your commandments, for You shall enlarge my heart. Psalms 119:29-32 When we keep our eyes on Christ and on his Word, our path through the debris can be safe, even when that past is both a memory and an integral part of our new environment. Notice that the psalmist begins with sorrow, as do we when our life is turned upside down. These sorrows may be in the form of a family shattered by divorce, an unexpected illness, or sudden loss of employment. Or maybe it is a new Christian, constantly being pulled-at to return to their former life away from God, or the addict desperately trying to ignore the yearnings from his past. We find ourselves in a new environment, yet one with the past still prevalent. The way it used to be haunts us, and so we must navigate through it. It begins with God and his Word. The psalmist asks for ob structions to be removed, dangers to be pointed out, and shame to be avoided.

Now in the new environment, how do we enjoy it? How do we keep the line in the water and not snagged and wrapped around the skeletons of the past? The psalmist continues:

It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I may learn Your statutes. The law of Your mouth is better to me than thousands of coins of gold and silver. Psalms 119: 71,72

He again points us to the Word, to the source of good. He concludes with the declaration that God’s Word is more valuable than all the gold and silver coins he can imagine. Talk about a sweet spot. As we struggle in our new environment, with the skeletons and debris all around us, it is hard to imagine God can still find a place for us; that God can provide for us. Yet he does, and he calls us to his Word, to learn of him, to grow in our faith.

Then there is the snake. Just when you think you have slayed it, just when you think you have applied the final blow, it comes back up out of the water. Striking out towards you, it turns your glee into fear, your rejoicing into anguish. The snake didn’t die; your attempts to kill it were not enough.

I cry out with my whole heart; hear me, O LORD! I will keep Your statutes. I cry out to You; save me, and I will keep Your testimonies. I rise before the dawning of the morning, and cry for help; I hope in Your word. Psalms 119: 145-147

Too many times, we strike in our own strength, and yet we cannot kill the past, we cannot destroy the serpent. But God calls us to his

Word, to draw close to him, to allow his love and care to surround us, and to protect us.

Our homes and streets are full of folks whose lives have flipped up side down. They drift through the ruins, the reminders of their past.

Failing to cling to God, their lives become an entangled mess; and then the snake comes out of the water. Their past has again become their present. God has a better way.

It is a way with promise, a way that can turn tragedy into opportunity and confusion into peace; and it starts with his Word. SLT

Excerpted from Side Roads, Snares, and Souls

Bradley Antill, author. Visit www.onatreeforestry.com