Slow Healing

 God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.  (Genesis 1:30)

I took them up in my arms;
    but they did not know that I healed them. ~ God (Hosea 11:3)

We had bruised hips, blistered feet and various scrapes and cuts; battle wounds with the mountain. Our destination is a remote alpine lake. It is a talisman for me, a place of reverence. Some of the glory bestowed upon the lake is due to its rugged beauty and some is because it is the headwater for many myths that have shaped my life.

To say it is elemental and formative to my life as a human being on this earth would be accurate. At age thirteen on my first trip to the lake, I moved from being a boy into the awareness of what it meant to be a man. Over the next many decades, I took many friends and family into this sacred place.

cRESTONEThe lake is cupped in an alpine cirque as if treasured by the right hand of God. Surrounded by thousand foot cliffs that crumble into talus and scree right into the cobalt blue water; and at other places the slope is gentle enough for shallow top soil to find purchase. The dark loam, however thin, is rich enough to grow lush mountain grass, skunk cabbage, cinquefoil, and giant dandelions. Colorado blue spruce lace one end of the lake like giant fingers holding the water in place.

Our group believed in “leaving no trace” while in the wilderness. I was struck at how little had changed in the two decade since we had tried to clean up the careless mess of others. The lake shore was pock-marked with dark charcoal fire-rings. Rusty tin cans, plastic and other trash littered old campsites and even hung in the trees. So, we decided to leave one clearly visible and accessible campsite with a fire-ring and clean up the others.

Carefully we cut the sod and laid it to one side. Digging down beneath the top soil to the gravel base, we then buried charred pieces of wood and any organic items we could find.

Wounds

Wounds

The bottles, cans, and plastics we packed out. We replaced the sod and watered the area making many trips to the lake with our single liter bottles. We offered a prayer of dedication asking our Creator-God to bless the efforts to right the environmental wrongs of others.

We wanted to honor the Creator we felt so close to in this remote wilderness. But we also did it because we wanted the place to look better for our own enjoyment. Maybe we even wanted to teach a lesson of what it means to honor the land to others who would come to the lake.

So why was it so easy for me to find the restored area two decades after our efforts at environmental restoration? Did we do it wrong? I think no. What struck me as I stood at that place beside the lake was this: in spite of our best efforts, some eco systems are extraordinarily fragile and healing takes a long time.

Sadly, I could still see the outline of the trench. The sod stood like clumps of green braille on brown ground. Honestly, the area where we buried the refuse looked more like a grave than a place of restoration. I said a prayer, shook my head, and walked away.

It has occurred to me that our souls are much like the fragile eco system above tree line: remote, strikingly beautiful, and fragile to the carelessness of man. Whether that harm is self-inflicted, neglect, or from others; we scar easily. Restoration takes a long time.

What then? Do we fail to cooperate with God in restoring His world? Do we quit because it takes longer than we want? Do we busy ourselves with some task or project that has a more immediate ROI? No. We must not be so shallow.  Time is tender and tough above tree line. Tender in that it only takes one moment to do generational damage to the land. Tough because it is stubbornly relentless in its process of restoration. It is the same with the restoration of a soul. I must remember that God doesn’t get in a hurry about anything.

Scanning the souls in my relational landscape, I see a charred fire-ring of betrayal here, a pock-marked heart there, and I can’t help myself. I pick up the shards of broken souls, the crumpled cans of discarded dreams, and the burnt wood of moral failures and start the process of cooperating with our God to restore his world, one life at a time. It may take a long time for these marred soul to blend in to the lush land of the Kingdom of Heaven, but what else can I do? Some things are even more precious than water cupped in the hand of God.

You. 

About Joe Chambers

I am the beloved of the Most High God. I am an avid reader and writer and have been a continuous learner since my college studies in Ancient Literature and English. I live at the base of Mount Princeton in the Colorado Rockies with my wife of over three decades. I believe I have been put here to tell people that God is not mad at them and to show them the way Home. I am the father of three sons, a daughter-in-law and four grandchildren. I love to read, tell stories, and spend time in the wilderness with my friends and sons.
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4 Responses to Slow Healing

  1. One of the best pieces you have written in a while. Thanks.
    Mom

  2. Katie Donohoue says:

    Joe, have you considered compiling your writings into a devotional book? You write beautifully.

  3. Craig says:

    Thanks Joe. When will you take me to that lake?

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