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OFF THE BEATEN PATH

Hill of Crosses

10/12/2018

6 Comments

 

By Joel Bates

Picture
I wasn’t at Golgotha, but it was a dark Friday when I stood on the hill of crosses.  We had been traveling together in the wilderness for about a week before my co-leader and I pulled the bottom out from under the missionaries-in-training.  They would have to exchange their comfortable canoes for the burden of hiking with backpacks.  Some of them glared at us in astonishment, the anger brewing under the surface because of what this could cost them.  They were a mixed bag of global evangelists, some singles and some families all headed for unknown challenges in the four corners of the world.  There were children in the group, too, including an infant and two toddlers.  How would they be able to transport children and infants, food, and all the camping gear to a yet unknown destination?  They could relate to Abraham, actually Abram, as he also faced a call to go to a land God would show him, a place far away over a distance he did not know.  However, the mission recruits did have their first destination, just not the knowledge of how many more would follow, so with what they did know they lifted their packs and kid-carriers to their backs and set their feet on the path. 

From the first, the way was slow going.  Brambles and thorns obscured what little evidence of a trail existed, and soon they faced another challenge. They had to march up a mountain.  Since the destination lay at the top, there was naught to do but trust the map and compass, hold to the bearing, and press on.  Again I thought of Abraham as he sojourned throughout the land of promise, never really reaching the destination, hoping in the promise of a child, fulfillment always just out of reach and out of his earthly control, yet he was credited for his faith, faith in a promise.  For most of his life that was his only bearing. 

After spending most of the day trudging from one destination to the next, enjoying the temporary joy of a successful proof, and delighting brief rests, my co-leader and I chose one final destination.  It was a small hill just a stone’s throw away from what would be our final campsite—a hill utterly insignificant and arbitrary except for one monumental feature, three large crosses standing tall. 

The bedraggled missionaries knew neither the significance of the destination nor that it was the last destination of the trip.  The light of day was dwindling, and the dark storm brewing on the horizon promised we would soon be pelted with raindrops.  They put a good face on it all and set off with a degree of hearty will, but after we had been slogging along with heavy burdens in the rain for a few hours, they realized with great dismay that they had taken a wrong turn and passed their destination.  The anticipated cheer of success faded as a growing anxiety of their being totally and utterly lost descended on them. 

One of the group leaders, a young husband and father, looked at the group and in brokenness confessed that he doubted they could go on any farther.  The children were crying and soaking in the rain.  Nightfall threatened to obscure the destination.  And quite honestly, he had lost his own personal belief in the mission.  Knowing that this was not the time or place to quit, I pulled him aside and simply whispered, “I believe you can do this, and your group is capable of following you.”  He silently nodded in acknowledgement as tears lined his cheeks. 

They kept going.  They were trying to follow a bearing in the dark, but the going was difficult and impeded by gullies, thick foliage, and the needs of group members to stop and rest as their fatigue no doubt fueled their own mounting doubts.  I followed along with them, but my mind began to race with questions as I considered their struggles and how I was driving them on to this destination.  I had to ask, “Is this too much for the group?  Am I setting them up to fail miserably?  Will they ever forgive me for challenging them so far beyond their perceived limits?” 

The group stopped just short of the hill, resting and retreating mentally in a wet heap of packs, bodies, and tears.  I stood back and watched and prayed desperately for God to help them since my commitment to this challenge prevented me from bailing them out.  Two members stood apart with map and compass in hand, gaping into the darkness and straining to see any signs of a rise in elevation.  When I strode to their side, they choked out the problem through their tears, “We’re lost in the dark and in absolute brokenness.  We cannot find the destination.” 

“Do you still have a bearing on the hill?” I asked.  They did, and after comparing it to my own, I knew  they were truly heading in the right direction.  They just didn’t believe it.  I simply reminded them to trust their map and compass and hold to the bearing.  So in fear and doubt and suffering they set off, risking all to follow the bearing.  Suddenly out of the darkness, the terrain began to rise slightly and then steeply ascend.  My co-facilitator and I were following the hikers when a sudden hush came over the group.  I looked up, and my breath caught as headlamps and flashlights one after the other illuminated  the figures of three imposing crosses. 

The group felt a rush of wonder and quickened their pace to the summit.  They stopped and stood in silence at the foot of the rough-hewn emblems of suffering and shame.  Without a word, one by one they let their backpacks slide off, losing them to the cold ground, leaving them, and not looking back.  The broken young man who had been leading us fell to his knees and began to weep at the sight.  Tears filled my eyes, too, as the rain eased and lightning lit up the sky, emblazoning the silhouetted crosses on my mind.  The group, still wet, still in the dark, fresh from the trail of suffering was entranced in a state of awe and worship.  In the face of suffering and lostness, brokenness and hopelessness, there stood the cross—the evidence of all that these missionaries were living for.  The scene embodied God’s fulfilled promise that went all the way back to Abraham and Isaac.  He had spared that only son and promised the coming of another only Son who would be sacrificed. 

​That Friday night, we glimpsed the pain and sadness of what the world apart from Christ feels.  Though our encounter was brief, it deeply impressed us again with the hard fact that we needed saving.  We knelt there remembering Jesus, the only Son sacrificed for everyone.  He can relate to all of our pain and suffering and do more than just relate, but save us from it.  There, to our surprise, in the middle of the night on a small hill amid a dying world lost in pain and darkness stands the salvation of all men, the beacon of hope to the nations, the immovable gospel for all ages, the fulfillment of the promise, the reliable bearing we hold to.  There stands the cross of Christ.  

6 Comments
David
10/15/2018 02:35:20 pm

Powerful! I cried too. Thank you for publishing this story.

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Allen Todd
10/15/2018 05:11:38 pm

My chest heaved with hope and my sight grew blurry as I read and silently cheered them on in my heart. Thank you for sharing this. God has set our next waypoint and right now it feels so far away. Well, it is literally halfway around the world, but so many things have to come together for us to go. Thanks for the reminder to check our bearings and not give up!

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Drew
10/16/2018 01:12:48 pm

Thank you for capturing a moment so well that those who weren't there for it can still participate in the emotion and impact that was present. Connecting this with the way that God has pursued me and saved me was refreshing.

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Discovery Ministries
11/7/2018 01:25:17 pm

Thanks for the encouragement Drew. We are thankful for this powerful picture of God's powerful work for us!

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Todd Ochs
12/17/2018 01:11:08 pm

Monday December 17
I’m in a Customer' home that we are remodeling.
Sitting on a bucket of drywall mud in the warmth of a sunbeam having lunch. As I’m scrolling through my email, I come across this one, that I hadn’t opened until today. Thank you for writing this.
As I read the article it became harder to swallow my lunch along with the lump forming in my throat.
It is very inspiring to read of the sufferings of brother and sisters that walk this earth in the same time and space as I do. Sometimes I read the scriptures and about their struggles, suffering and victories and think that if only I would have lived then, I would have had more faith and wouldn’t have reacted as they did, with doubt and fear but people have always been the same and each of our faith can only grow when we are tried in the fire. I consider myself to be a seasoned believer and follower of Jesus and then find myself feeling in the dark, cold , wet and that God has left me alone.and “what’s it all for? “ It’s then that I hear Him wisper those same kind of words. “ do you still have a bearing ? then trust my word and my spirit “ God bless you all and never grow tired of doing good.

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Baron Angelton link
12/17/2018 09:19:08 pm

It is 01:50 Tuesday 18 Dec 2018 morning. as I type this comment.

My eyes are blurry with the remnant of tears, can scarcely see the keys of my computer. Yet I must finish this small task I set out to do tonight. I was captivated by the sight of the hill with the three crosses, which I kept looking back at every few keystrokes.

When I saw the hill before reading the comments I could not help reflecting on what happened there two millennia ago. Then reading Joels' report I thought to myself what would the scene like back in 33 AD.

I can vividly picture the crowds on the hill jeering at my LORD and Saviour dragging that ghastly instrument of death from Pilates palace. A hostile crowd like never before seen with one object in mind. The slaying of my LORD and KING.

As your group struggled through the evening and night to get up that hill, some very tired, kids fractious, young people wondering if they are seemingly lost.

Well that is what it was like when heaven stood still and darkness covered the land and the baying of the thuggish people who wanted my SAVIOUR dead. I can only imagine how shocked they were when the sun was suddenly blacked out and there was not a sound heard in heaven. The angels just looked on as their creator was hanging from the tree.

I also can imagine the posture of apprentice missionaries tired and forlorn gazed up at the crosses. Physically broken by the arduous late evening trudge, thinking they were lost. wanting to give up. They checked their maps and believed they were lost..
“We’re lost in the dark and in absolute brokenness. We cannot find the destination.” I loved that emotion you leaders and the team felt and told them they were to keep the same coordinates and keep going in that direction. It was at that exact moment, GOD revealed JESUS to them.

A short walk a few minutes more and they were there, broken tired but amazed at GODs' plan for them all. It is when you are losing heart, despondent, weak and weary the JESUS always shows up. I remember those words I heard nearly 50 years ago.

The preacher was speaking about the issue of blood with a lady who touched the hem of HIS garment. She talked and talked much to the horror of Jairus whose daughter was dying. The woman was still telling JESUS about her hard times and how the quack doctors fleeced her of all her money and dignity, and she talked. Jairus looking at JESUS falls to his knees as implores JESUS to come attend to his needs for his daughter.

Can you imagine what he might have said? Perhaps as leader of the Synagogue full of his own importance he calls LORD she is still living my daughter is more important as she is dying. Besides, JESUS she has had that condition for 12 years I heard he tell you. See her later please. Jairus servant comes to him , master your daughter is dead.

I for one can imagine what was bubbling up inside him his anger, his resentment for the woman and possibly a bit hurt that
JESUS took so long. Folks GOD will never test you more than you can bare. That was what the preacher told us in his sermon, it was a long sermon.

Coming back to the cross, JESUS finally said IT IS FINISHED, which in modern Hebrew means "I'm done", and HE gave up his spirit..The moment the Roman soldier pierced JESUS side and blood and water poured out of his body. Another miracle took place. The sacrificial offering of the first passover lamb was was slain and blood and water flowed out of the temple.to wash away symbolically the sins of the nation. JESUS blood and water washed the sins of the world. At that exact time. Coincidence no! It was a GOD incidental, meant to happen before man was created.

Young missionaries in training your trip brought out some wonderful truths and determination in all of you. I am proud to say you finished that particular race, the course was done and the majesty of heaven came down and hugged everyone of you.

You have been blessed, but, that is not the end. It is the beginning. You will have to overcome some serious challenges in your future lives. Reflect back to the time you were lost near the mount of the three crosses.. Your story was inspiring, invigorating, emotionally charged feelings that will come again at some point. When you are considering how heavy that task and burdens you bear, look back at the three crosses and remember these words . "Burdens were lifted at Calvary".

GOD bless you all.and thank you for letting me be part of the ones who read your journal.

Finished at 03:04 GMT in Wales ,UK



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