Back in 2014 I had the privilege of making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. One of the experiences that I remember well is walking the desert trail from the monastery of St George into Jericho. In particular I remember the rocky, narrow path that wound its way along the edge of a cliff that dropped sharply away to the ravine below. That and a donkey named Couscous.
Couscous, we were told, walked the path often. As long as we followed him, we would be safe.
As you would expect, a group of pilgrims on a narrow path
stretched back some distance, but I stayed near to the front, watching Couscous
carefully. Occasionally he placed his front foot on a patch of gravel that would
shift. And he would change direction, finding a surer footing. And sure enough,
we all followed him closely.
This Sunday we hear the story of John the Baptist going throughout the countryside, proclaiming repentance. As he cries out in the words of the prophet to make a straight path, levelling the mountains and filling in valleys, this is the landscape I remember. And I can’t help but think what a fantastic metaphor this is for our lives.
You see, the narrow but persistent stream that passes through
this valley has carved its way through this place for thousands of years. And
like all river valleys, it has taken the path of least resistance – wearing away
at the weakest points until the landscape has become breathtaking but
treacherous.
In John’s message of repentance, I hear a call to turn away
from the path of least resistance. The path that winds away from God. And to
follow a little more closely in the footsteps of Jesus – trusting in Him as
much as I did that donkey.
Pilgrim friends and a donkey named Couscous
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