From Max Lucado’s book ‘Traveling Light’ (Releasing the burdens you were never intended to bear).
I wonder if you could imagine yourself in a jungle. A dense jungle. A dark jungle. Your friends convinced you it was time for a once in a lifetime trip, and here you are. You paid the fare. You crossed the ocean. You hired the guide and joined the group. And you ventured where you never had ventured before—into the thick, strange world of the jungle.
Sound interesting? Let’s take a step farther. Imagine you are in the jungle, lost and alone. You paused to lace your boot, and when you looked up, no one was near. You took a chance and went to the right; now you’re wondering if others went to the left. (Or did you go left and they go right?)
Whatever, you are alone. And you have been alone for, well, you don’t know how long it has been. Your watch is attached to your pack, and your pack is on the shoulder of the nice guy from New Jersey, who volunteered to hold it while tied your boots. You didn’t intend him to walk off with it. But he did. And here you are stuck in the middle of nowhere.
You have a problem. First, you were not made for this place. Drop you into the center of avenues and buildings, and you could sniff your way home. But here in the sky-blocking foliage? Here in the trail hiding thickets? You are out of your element. You weren’t made for this jungle.
Worse, you aren’t equipped. You have no machete. No knife. No matches. No flares. No food. You aren’t equipped, but now you are trapped—and you haven’t a clue how to get out.
Sound like fun to you? Me either. Before moving on, lets pause and ask how you feel. Given such circumstances, what emotions would surface? With what thoughts would you wrestle?
Fear? Of course you would.
Anxiety? To say the least.
Anger? I could understand that. (You’d like to get your hands on those folks who convinced you to take this trip.)
But most of all, what about hopelessness? No idea where to turn. No hunch what to do. Who could blame you for sitting on a log (better check for snakes first), burying your head in your hands and thinking, I’ll never get out of here. You have no direction, no equipment, no hope.
If you can, you can relate to many people in this world.
For many people, life is—well life is a jungle. Not a jungle of trees and beasts. Would that it were so simple. Would that our jungles could be cut with a machete or adversaries trapped in a cage. But our jungles are comprised of the thicker thickets of failing health, broken hearts and empty wallets. Our forests are framed with hospital walls and divorce courts. We don’t here the screeching of birds or the roaring of lions, but we do hear the complaints of neighbors and the demands of bosses. Our predators are our creditors, and the brush that surrounds us is the rush that exhausts us. It’s a jungle out there. ~Max Lucado, Traveling Light (Nashville, Tennessee: Thomas Nelson 1987, 9188, 1991). 55-56 (continued, click ‘He Restores My Soul II)
