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A wet forest just above freezing

20130929_143307On my way home from Lincoln yesterday, the pull of the forest overpowered me as I went over the top of MacDonald Pass. I turned in to the Continental Divide Trailhead, pulled my bow out of the truck, donned all the warm weather gear I had, and wandered in to spend some time in the creation.

Razor-sharp wind whipped across the mountaintop, and cut through my thin gloves quickly. Slush and snow covered the trail from the parking area forward, making careful attention to my footing a necessity.

Before I even reached the forest, I glanced up from picking the least-slick spot to put my foot and saw a brown shape moving against the trees. Like lightning my head came up. I lifted my bow as the animal came into view.

Big!

That’s no muley, I thought. That’s a… cow. Not a cow elk, a bovine. Boooo!

Snow covered the ground in the forest, but the treeline stopped the wind. drops of melting snow fell from every tree in the 38-degree weather. Several trees brought low by wind blocked the trail, and made picking my way forward a very slow, wet endeavor.

Eventually I found a stump to sit on and see if any deer came by. None did, but the forest made up for their absence. The song of distant wind beyond the trees beat the sound of tires on a highway, hands down. Trees creaked, ice-cold snowmelt dripped, and God loved me.

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What creates contentment?

So a journalist named Adam Weinstein has written an essay that I find interesting. It’s written in response to something I read — and obviously so did he — about how people of his generation (Gen Y) are spoiled and have too big of a sense of entitlement and shouldn’t whine so much about not being rich and famous yet.

I don’t want to express an opinion about the original article. I think all of us suffer from our own self-delusions and such, it’s not unique to one generation.

What I do find interesting is the attitude Mr. Weinstein expresses in his essay. He describes himself as broke, underemployed, perpetually renting, burdened by student debt, etc. He seems, from his essay, very very disappointed with his financial position in life.

Now, I don’t know what he makes, and I’m not going to put what I make on a blog. But it’s really hard for me to imagine that he makes less than me. I make more than the average per capita income in Montana, but far far less than President Obama’s definition of “the rich.” Less by a decimal place and then some.

And yet I’m pretty content.

Yeah, I’m always shaking the piggy bank the last day or two before payday. Yeah, my condo is a long way from the home I want. Yes, I could easily find a way to put more money to very good use.

But basically, I’m alright. Could I use more money? Sure. Is the lack of it hurting me? No.

So Mr. Weinstein has had a pretty cool writing career. He’s writing for a lot of national publications (obviously different ones than I would write for), and making a living at it. I once wanted to be a professional writer — maybe someday I still will.

But from my perspective, it looks like he’s a very fortunate man. He seems to have a lot of things I wish I had — not least a family.

(No doubt that family contributes to the greater sense of financial hardship he feels, but still, it seems like a great gift.)

So why do I feel content, and he feels broke and trapped by debt?

I am not a better money manager than he is, I promise you.

I’m sure the authors of the original article that he was responding to would have an idea of the answer to my question. But I don’t like their answer. It’s belittling and not meant to treat him with respect.

He’s a professional writer, has a family, has people all around the country reading his work and having their politics influenced by what he writes…

I’m a small state party ED who doesn’t make very much money, has almost infinitely-less influence than outside observers seem to think, and is still patiently waiting in terms of family.

By everything that I wanted when I was a child, I should envy him. Instead, he feels trapped and broke, and I feel like I’m blessed beyond imagining.

I’m not going to answer the question of why he feels bad and I feel good. All I’m going to do is thank Jesus for the contentment I have.

(Update: I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that LinkedIn says I’m 3 degrees removed from him. Probably one of the Romney campaign guys I worked with knows someone who knows him.)

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Broken chains falling like rain

There is a scene in The Matrix. Morpheus is held captive in a skyscraper, chained to a chair, interrogated by Agent Smith with two other Agents helping to guard him. Trinity and Neo come to rescue him, flying in a helicopter. They fly the chopper from the roof down to the room in the skyscraper where Morpheus is held, and Neo begins firing with a minigun — a Gatling gun in .30 caliber with six rotating barrels that spews out six thousand rounds per minute — 100 bullets every second.

The camera shifts during the rescue, as Neo is firing. From underneath the helicopter, we see spent shell casings from the Gatling gun plummeting to earth. There are uncounted thousands of the, falling like rain, like a torrential downpour.

One day while I was worshiping, God showed me that scene, as if I were watching the movie. But instead of spent shell casings, the there were broken chains. Uncountable thousands of broken chain links falling to earth.

That is God’s desire for his people. Chains of addiction and fear and anger that have held us back, broken and shattered in such numbers that they fall like rain, the noise of them like steel hail.

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Private Property in the Bible

And my princes will no longer oppress my people but will allow the people of Israel to possess the land according to their tribes. –Ezekiel 45:8

A government that does not allow the people to possess land is oppressive. Private property ownership is a scriptural principle, and it is a facet of a government that does not offend him.

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Anticipating the forest

Tomorrow I go into the woods with two friends, hunting elk.

There’s a strange desire curve that goes with hunting. In the time before I go, it fills my whole mind and makes it hard to think of anything else. I picture the fleeting glimpse of an elk, not even the whole animal. In my minds eye I simply see the rippling muscle behind his shoulder, and try to pick out one specific hair on which to put my sight. I see it over and over, in a hundred different ways. I lay awake thinking of how hard it will be to pack him out after I get him. I worry about how much it will cost to get him stuffed and mounted if I accidentally take a trophy animal. I worry about how to make room in my freezer for the meat.

All of this, of course, before the animal is even seen, let along arrowed, let alone dead.

Once I get to the camp, though, everything changes. Get a fire going, get a bit of red wine in a tin camping cup… and I think, “The elk can wait. It would be so hard to dress him, and cost so much to have him mounted…”

But then I push through, I walk out into the setting sun to scout, I wake up the next morning while it’s still black outside. And everything I fantasized about fades away. The reality of forest and mountain wipes out all the daydreams about trophy bulls. The delight of moving through the forest soundlessly fills me. The sounds of forest creatures going about their lives pulse with power and mystery.

I cannot explain it. I cannot point to anything in scripture that would tell me why it’s true. But in the mountains, much more than in the city, I can feel the closeness of an omnipotent being who speaks universes into existence. Forest mornings, it’s possible to get a sense of the raw, mind-numbing POWER of God.

This weekend, I know I will be content to sit in the presence of the Father and enjoy the fact that he permits me to watch him work. If he lets me take part, and help steward his creation by taking game, so much the better.