The snow hill was my downfall

Photo by Brendan Beale on Unsplash

My grandparents lived on a beautiful acreage when I was a child. They had a large garden, a cute playhouse, and a big hammock slung between two old apple trees. The main feature during the winter months was the large, gently-sloping hill at the back of the property. One day in particular stands out in my childhood memory of that private snow hill. After several runs down the hill, my oldest sisters decided to add some extra excitement by daring my second youngest sister to slide down the tree-covered side of the hill. Fortunately, her common sense was in good functioning order and she declined the offer.

“I’ll do it.” My voice barged boldly into the conversation. I saw an opportunity to prove my bravery and gain approval from my big sisters. I plopped down on my tummy, head first. Aiming the sled down toward the trees, I started my ill-fated journey. Partway down the hill, a particularly large tree loomed in front of me. I was told that my sisters yelled for me to bail off, but I was too busy watching my short life flash before my eyes. I slammed into the tree with a thud, the breath knocked out of me (and hopefully some common sense knocked in). I gradually recovered from the sudden impact, no longer impressed with my sisters’ suggestion of attempting tree trunk navigation. I had to admit, though, that it was my own competitive arrogance that had gotten me into the predicament. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last time I’ve erred in judgment.

I slammed into the tree with a thud, the breath knocked out of me (and hopefully some common sense knocked in).

The Israelites also had a serious propensity for making poor judgment calls. The Bible records their stumbling, erring path as they repeatedly forsake God and worship other gods. We see their lack of belief and slap our proverbial foreheads: “Why don’t they learn their lesson?” we sigh. “Why are they so obstinate?” Their actions start feeling strangely familiar to our hearts; prone to wander, Lord, I feel it.

In John 15, Christ said that a true believer will bear good fruit. However, anyone with gardening experience (or a lawn full of dandelions) knows the persistent growth of weeds. Do we simply pull them out, clean off our shovels, and spend the rest of the summer lounging on our patios, waiting for the bountiful harvest? Unfortunately, no. In his excellent book The Mortification of Sin, John Owen uses the gardening metaphor to explain the continual work of sanctification. We tromp out to our garden day after day to wage war with the weeds that stunt the growth and mar the beauty of our good crops.

What do we have in common with the Israelites? Our propensity to let doubts and sinful desires deceive us. At times, we refuse to humbly allow the Lord to search our hearts (Psalm 139:23–24). We careen down the hill of our own understanding instead of running to our great High Priest. “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24–25).

Praise God that he “is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). We walk as new creations, looking forward to that day when we will be perfect, seeing Christ as he is (1 John 3:2).