Somehow, somewhere along the way, I became afraid.
Much-Afraid.
I'd like to be unafraid now.
Much-Afraid.
I'd like to be unafraid now.
--MBE, July 2008
When I was young, my family had an illustrated copy of 'Hinds' Feet on High Places.' I loved to sit in my room, looking it over again and again...I remember the depiction of Jesus so clearly because to me, he looked like my father--full dark beard, and hairy legs.
The main character, Much-Afraid, is a crippled girl with a crooked mouth. She lives her life unfulfilled and desiring much more. She meets the 'Shepherd,' who tells her he will take her out of her home in the 'Valley of Humiliation,' to a new home in the 'High Places.' He tells her he will give her a new name and heal her sadness, and she joyfully accepts his offer. 7-year old me is thinking: 'This is great! It's happening for Much-Afraid just like it happened for me. Meet Jesus. Learn about Heaven. Accept the offer. Life is great. Go to Heaven.'
But when the Shepherd introduces Much-Afraid to her travelling companions--'Sorrow' and 'Suffering,' 7-year old me feels confused. Why would Jesus deliberately put her in the company of pain? Of sadness? How is that love? And even worse, the Shepherd leaves Much-Afraid to travel alone with Sorrow and Suffering. Is he abandoning her?
We can feel pain coming on. We know when it's approaching, and we avoid it. Systematically, instinctively. How backward of the Shepherd to ask her to travel alongside it...letting it match her step for step.
Much-Afraid travels with Sorrow and Suffering, and though they stay close and offer to hold her hand as she journeys through the craggy mountains, Much-Afraid doesn't accept their help. In the end, it takes some interference from some nasty relatives to push Much-Afraid into the helpful embrace of Suffering and Sorrow.
As I grew, I sometimes found myself thinking about Much-Afraid's travel buddies. In the moments when I found myself experiencing the kind of pain that took my breath away, or cradling the sort of heartbreak I thought people were always exaggerating, I remembered Much-Afraid's story, and her unlikely companions. Who better to walk with? Who better to learn from? In some reckless part of my heart, I cherish their company. When I find myself reaching out to embrace my own Sorrow, and my own Suffering, I feel myself moving forward. Taking steps toward my own high places, where I arrive unafraid.
