Mark Spruill

A few nights ago I went outside for a walk and Sam followed me out to look at the stars.  When he looked up and saw that the clouds had different plans, he grumbled.  “Why is it when I don’t want to look at the stars, they are shining bright, and every time I DO want to look at the stars, they are not out?”   He turned and marched back in the house, mad at a universe that was obviously conspiring against him.

As I continued my walk, I thought about Sam’s problem and wondered how the stars might answer his indictment. I suppose they might very well say, “Why is it, Sam, that every time we go to the trouble to shine, you never even come outside and look up?” Sam’s problem, I thought, was that he expects the universe to conform to his desires instead of just enjoying the blessings whenever and wherever they are provided.  

The thing is, it’s not really just Sam’s problem. It’s my problem too.  It’s a problem we all have.  We spend our lives complaining when the stars don’t shine on us.  Maybe instead we should be looking up expectantly every chance we get, and praising God for every twinkle.

Yesterday I flew on an airplane to arrive at a city where I went to a hotel and rode the elevator to my room on the 10th floor.  As the elevator doors closed and I zipped upward, I thought about what was below me.  Hundreds of feet of air.  But it’s not scary because the doors close, the elevator music plays, and I feel nice and safe in a small little enclosed box.  I can’t see how high I am or the big drop below.   In the airplane, it’s even worse.

We board a plane and sit in our little rows of seats as if we are in a miniature movie theatre. The doors are shut, sometimes even the window shades are pulled, and we pretend to relax while hurdling along at 500 mph.  We are 35000 feet above the ground, held up by thin air.  In fact, the air just outside the closed window shade is so thin it won’t do you any good to breath it.  It doesn’t really matter anyway because at -40 degrees, it would probably freeze your lungs if you did take a breath. And since that -40 degree air is blowing at a constant 60 mph (even if the plane were not moving through it) it would probably freeze the rest of you pretty fast too.  Yet we sit inside sipping a Coke, eating pretzels, reading a book, and pretending the inside is all there is. We can ignore the insanity of the harsh environment outside because we are inside.  Meanwhile, we bet our life that a million things that could go wrong, won’t.  

I don’t know which is more crazy.  To fly in an airplane?  Or to live a life so inwardly focused that you don’t notice the insanity around you.

Did you ever see a tree with a big old limb reaching far out on one side and wonder how it keeps from toppling over? 

Of course it’s the roots, planted deep and holding firmly in the soil that keep the tree standing tall.  And it’s also true that there has to be some strength in the heart of the wood, or the limb would just break off.  Thank God for deep roots and a strong heart… and those who reach out.

Ok.  I admit it.  I like to watch Naked and Afraid.  If you haven’t seen it, what you have missed is a reality TV show where they dump people out in a jungle somewhere with no clothes, no food, no water, and only two or three survival items.  Last night was the climax of the Naked and Afraid XL version, where they dumped 10 survival experts out for 40 days.  It was a crushing ordeal.  Eight of the 10 “survived” and made it to the extraction point.

Over the course of the regular season and the XL season, it has been interesting to watch how people cope. Many start out with a sense of self-confidence, trusting in their own knowledge and training to get them through triumphantly.  Some start out working hard, trying to get water, catch food, and build elaborate shelters.  Others just try to do the bare minimum, conserving energy, hoping to have enough life left in them in the end to make the long final journey to the extraction point.  Regardless of how they start out, the ones who manage to finish, in nearly every instance, just barely scrape by, starving themselves and living a miserable existence until they can just manage to struggle with their last bit of strength to the extraction point.  They survive the ordeal, but only because it didn’t last too long.  At least that seems to be the case for almost all of them.  There was this one guy . . .

There was one guy they dropped off in the Florida Everglades.  He found some dry land because he took a risk and waded waist deep through a bunch of snake and alligator infested swamp.  He spent the time and energy to build a good shelter.  He killed a snake or two to eat, survived rain and storms, mosquitoes and other nasty bugs.  He was determined to thrive, not just survive.  At first, the alligators intimidated him.  Then he got hungry.  But instead of whining about it while laying around and trying to hang on to what energy reserves he had, he built a noose on a long stick, jumped in the black swampy water, and lassoed an alligator.  After stabbing it with his knife, he hauled the heavy thing back to his camp, built a smoker, and smoked enough alligator meat to keep him eating all he wanted for days.  This guy didn’t just survive, he made it through to extraction day victorious and thriving.  

After last night’s episode, I was thinking about how so many just barely survive, and how this one guy was such an exception.  I couldn’t help but consider how it related to life. I think we are all “naked and afraid” at times.  As Christians, we live here on Earth with the promise of an “extraction day” ahead.  Unfortunately, way too many Christians just try to hold on and survive until extraction day comes.  I don’t want to be that kind of Christian.  I want to be the kind that jumps in the swamp with a noose and wrestles the alligators.  I want to thrive until the great and glorious Extraction Day when we feast at the banquet table of our Lord.  And as we sit around the table telling stories, many may describe how by God’s grace they were able to hold on long enough to make it home.  No doubt that’s a victory.  But what if you could be the guy who’s telling the story of what it felt like to wrestle an alligator?  I want to be that guy.