by Joel BatesDeep, difficult-to-reach places seem to be where I encounter God most intimately. For example, earlier this year a few staff members and I stood balanced atop a 1,500-foot, knife-edge ridge overlooking a 1,000-foot expanse across from Black Tooth Peak, the second highest mountain in Wyoming’s Cloud Peak Wilderness. Not having hiked the area before, our backpacking party made a decision to confront the steep ascent over windswept tundra with nothing to guide us but our map and compass as we triangulated a route from the surrounding 13,000-foot spires. On reaching the heights, we felt small and vulnerable amid the black, towering, monolithic spikes which stood immovable as we gaped wide-eyed down at a myriad of deep, glacial-cut craters forming crystal-clear lakes. The fierce wind caused us to creep, using three-point stances, to the edge of the precipice, where we peered over the rim despite our insatiable fear of a gust blowing us off balance. Huddled there on that deeply, isolated mountain ridge, we experienced God—not hearing a voice over the rushing wind, but feeling a discernable presence of His Almightiness. In the lonely mountainous expanse, we drew close and found God. I’ve dedicated my career in ministry to guiding, inviting, and facilitating people’s journeys into deeper, wilder places in the hopes that they, too, will meet God in a dramatically discernable way. Just recently I led a group of ordinary Christian men through a cave. I always feel a rush of excitement when some members of the group have never been in a cave before, and this group had three. I love it because I get to be part of an induction into a deeper adventure and the possibility of leading them to a deeper relationship with God. True to form, as we crawled through the cave from one room to another, up slick corridors dotted with knobby stalagmites, and through tight squeezes—a process that one cannot rush, one fellow tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “This far back, what happens if someone gets hurt?” It was a fair question. A growing awareness that our underground descent made us vulnerable had begun to dawn on him. I pacified his question by describing a good contingency plan in the event of an emergency, even though I knew all the preplanning could not change the fact that going deeper added a new level of risk. However, with that awareness, the men I led were attuned to their surroundings and accepted this very real danger which made it a true adventure. Our group, exposed to the deep, worshipped deeply in the dark and experienced the truth of Hebrews 4:16: “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you” (ESV). Sitting in the pews a few Sundays ago, our church delved into Psalm 100, looking at its poetic form that points to a depth we must not miss. In our culture, we regard a poem’s rhyme and cadence, but for the Hebrew writers, poems pointed like an arrow in form to a central theme. Biblical scholars call them chiasms. Chiastic poetry takes the reader on a journey to a deep place and then back again. Psalm 100 is a prime example as it points unmistakably like an arrow to the deepest intent and truth. Each line contributes to vital themes growing in importance with each new verse until the reader comes to the central point. Then the poem quietly reflects on those themes taking him back to the start. Check out Psalm 100: Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth! Serve the LORD with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! Know that the LORD, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations. (ESV) A mere five verses contain a power-packed punch of seven important commands. Let me illustrate this in its chiastic form for you. Make a joyful noise Serve the Lord Come into His presence Know the LORD Enter His gates Give thanks Bless His name The first and last lines deal with our outward expression of worship and praise to God. The second and sixth lines define an attitude to live by. The third and fifth commands really invite us to come and be with God—what a privilege! But, the fourth line…the fourth line stands alone as the central theme, a message of greatest importance--to know God. He is not some distant God that looks down from high heaven with disgust on all humanity, searching for ways to punish wrongdoers and promote those who get it right. He is the God of relationship. He wants to enjoy the bond between shepherd and sheep, a people belonging to Him. This idea that God wants to be with us, to know us, to love us is written all throughout scripture. He is not just loving us because that’s His obligation as our heavenly Father. No, He loves us out of a genuine desire, a desire that He’s always had for us and displayed fully in Christ, through whom “God was reconciling the world to Himself” (2 Cor. 5:19a ESV). I like to remind myself and others that God doesn’t just love us, He likes us and wants us to draw near to Him. Whether gaping at purple mountains’ majesty or wrestling with claustrophobia in the confines of a cave or sitting on a couch sipping coffee on a crisp autumn morning, we find the message of Psalm 100 is the same: Father-God wants us to know Him, deeply. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:15-16 ESV Looking for a gift idea for Christmas? Check out Joel's book, "Life Outside" available at a discount price on Amazon
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