The Lesson of the Stag

Several years ago, I was backpacking along a portion of the Appalachian Trail with my dad and my best friend, when we stumbled upon a young stag in the woods. It was early autumn, the time of year just when the weather starts cooling down before the leaves begin to change and fall. The buck seemed nearly as surprised by us as we were by him. He stood, ears and eyes alert, staring at us, poised to run--either at us or away from us, it wasn't quite certain which he would choose. But in those brief moments of indecision he was remarkably beautiful--more so than any words or even pictures could begin to describe. There was something about him, at once noble and alluring, beautiful and awe-inspiring all at once.

I was captivated by his charm. I edged ever closer, ever so slowly, fearing more that I would frighten him away than that I would end up gored by his antlers. My father tried to caution me. "Stay back," he warned. My friend eyed me suspiciously. "Have you lost your mind?" her eyes questioned. But it didn't matter. In that moment, the rest of the world faded away, grew pallid and stale in comparison. Here before me was pure, untamed beauty.

I think our encounters with Christ--the real encounters with the real Christ, not just the superficial brushes we get with an Americanized Jesus--are a little like my encounter with the young buck on the A.T. We stumble noisily along the path of life, dimly conscious of the divine presence in the world around us, often anticipating not to experience anything grand or out of the ordinary, and suddenly, on coming round the bend, we're face-to-face with God. And not at all as we imagined Him. We find ourselves awed by His beauty, His grace, and we find ourselves very soberly reminded that this is not a tame god. He is very much a wild deity, not in the least sense tamed or domesticated to suit our whims. He is beautiful, indeed. Majestic, powerful, without a doubt. He is also deadly. He could run us through in an instant and we would be powerless to stop Him.

But these same encounters that teach us to how to fear God also teach us how to love Him. For inevitably He shows that while He may not be "tame," He is most assuredly good. And not simply good--divinely good. For even when He must wound us, it is always (in the end) to help us. To teach us, to discipline us, to wean us of the things that would inevitably hurt us even more than He has done.