Mapless

I like the wilderness. No, I LOVE the wilderness.

Spiritual wilderness, that is.

Which is ironic, considering I don’t care for camping. I love nature, as long as I don’t have to sleep in a tent or pee in a hole in the ground, or take cold showers. Or cook. As long as it’s not raining. Or freezing.

Things I love about the wilderness? Rivers and creeks. Especially the kind that make noise. Campfires….I could stare into a campfire and watch the ashes rise for the rest of my life. Trees…lots and lots and lots of trees. The really tall ones; the ones you can see the stars between late at night. I love the air…unpolluted and healing in its purity. I love meadows and frog and cricketsong at night. I love the quiet-loud of the natural world.

Spiritual wilderness is a strange place…because, like camping, you have to take the good with the bad. You have to take the dust with the seclusion and you can’t be picky about the weather.

So many things I read about spiritual wilderness are aimed at finding a way out of it; finding civilized things such as hot water, diet coke, and a real bed. Though many people will say not to rush the journey out of the wilderness, they also say the true goal is to exit it; maybe stinking of sap and smoke and dirt. Get yourself clean, have a good meal, and get back on track.

I realize I might never be happier than to eventually die in this wilderness. For it is here I have truly found God. Yes, you might say, well I might die of starvation. Yes, I might not know where my next meal will come from or what it will consist of, but I trust in the Provider I have put my heart and soul to.

I had a dream a while back that I was somewhere on the edge of the wild, in the mountains, in a last-stop country store, where they sold band-aids and beer and wool hats. I was furiously searching for something, asking the employees, asking the customers…"Has anyone seen a good book of maps for this area? I really need some good maps so I don’t get lost." And in my entire dream, no one could produce one. Oh, the employees tried, they searched, certain it was ‘right here’, but everywhere they looked it was not there.

I no longer worry about getting lost on the way…I know there is One who always knows where I am, who can send signs from above if necessary. I have no fear of being off the map; I friggin’ burned the map. I burned it and stomped on the ashes. There is no more map.

Does this mean I no longer follow Jesus? Of course not. It is He who led me here, and He who builds my fires and cuts boughs for my shelter; He who has taught me to smell water.

Does this mean I no longer need the Bible? Of course not. It is the Breath of God, but it is not a map, it’s an autobiography. It’s more about Who I’m traveling with than where I’m going.

Does this mean I don’t need community? Of course not. But community doesn’t always look like a church, and there is something to be said for being autonomous, even just a little.

Where I can feel the wind in the trees and the rain on my face, this is the place I love. I will not apologize for the things I no longer believe in, nor will I try to justify those things I now believe. Maybe I’m a rogue, maybe I’m mad…I just don’t need to be on the expressway to heaven. I’ll get there the roundabout way, through eight feet of snow and 104 degree heat, sure I’ll have frostbite and blisters from time to time, go in circles and chase my tail, but I’ll see more of the world than ever I would in the concrete jungle of certainties and stench of spiritual decay where my spirit once lived.

Yes, I love the wilderness.

Wanderingly,