Until Next Time

I swallowed hard as I silently acknowledged my predicament.  I wanted to run.  In fact, every nerve in my body exploded with the flight response, but both fear and common sense anchored my feet.  There was no way I could outrun him.  And to turn and give him my back was suicidal.  He had hunted me down superbly.  I hadn’t known he was there until he was almost ready to attack.  Like a ghost gliding through the forest, he had silently closed the distance.  No sound.  No twig snap.  No over-turned rock or disturbed pebble.  Not even a rustled leaf had betrayed his presence.  He had demonstrated an epic stealthy approach.  Now at seven yards, his claws fidgeted in and out of their sheaths.  The tip of his tail whipped from side to side as he anticipated a quick clean kill.  Gold-green eyes pierced my body as he targeted his point of attack.  I, the hunter, had become the hunted.

It was a beautiful crisp fall morning in the high country of Colorado.  I had started the day well before sunrise.  In the dark, I had negotiated a trail up a drainage to reach an intercept point for a herd of elk.  All along the way, I had entertained fanciful ideas that I would finally catch the herd bull unaware.  I envisioned slipping an arrow into his chest, and successfully bringing a week of arduous archery hunting to a close.  At no time during the hike did I imagine that I would become the prey.  Funny how things work out.

I never saw the elk.  I was close, but the herd had moved earlier than expected, and I had missed the intercept.  I spent the rest of the morning sneaking up the drainage quipping a few cow calls along the way hoping to entice a satellite bull shadowing the herd.  It was a great plan, until I got a really uncomfortable feeling.  Ohhh, that gut wrenching feeling!  It’s a feeling that starts deep in the core and oozes to the surface of the skin.  It wiggles up the back leaving a rash of goosebumps along the spine, and then it spikes the neck and electrifies the hair.  The neck hairs stand straight up like a bolt of lightning is about to strike.  Some people call it the feeling of being watched.  Others call it a sixth sense.  No matter the reference term, it’s a feeling that really gets a person’s attention especially when alone in the woods.  I’ve experienced it many times, but usually it is due to walking past an elk or deer that is burning holes through me with their laser-intense eyesight.  I cringe every time because I know that I just blew the hunt.  I know that when I turn around, my quarry will snort and explode in a frenzied panic never to be seen again, and I will begin the walk of shame.  However, this time the feeling was much more intense.  The cringe almost hurt.  The feeling even wiggled all the way down into my toes.  The immediate thought that something was strangely amiss blasted through my head.  Then my brain threw all the red flags.  Danger was afoot.  A typical response for anyone with those feelings is to swivel around and check their six.  That’s exactly what I did, and then I knew I had been obtusely naive.  I was already trapped.  Obviously, I needed to enhance and fine-tune my future situational awareness.  Of course, that thought assumed I had a future.  My fate hung in the balance pirouetting around on a single thread.  I sickeningly saw two ears sticking above a large boulder directly behind me.  I’m not the sharpest guy in the woods, but it didn’t take me long to identify my would-be attacker.  The sneaky mountain lion had almost scored on me with extreme finality.

I would like to say that I stood stoically firm and tauntingly cried, “Bring it.”  But this is not Hollywood and there was no calling in a stunt double.  I was shaking at the knees and riddled with fear.  I think my only cry was one with tears and, for additional emphasis, I verbally screamed like a little girl.  

On the other hand, the brazen mountain lion had no fear.  Once he realized that his presence was detected and that I refused to run, he eased around the boulder and closed the gap to twelve feet.  We squared up on each other and had a good old-fashioned stare-down and stand-off.

In a scenario like that, time seems to slow down while thoughts speed up.  I had many.  It was one of the few times I wished that I was gun hunting instead of archery hunting.  I remember wishing that I had a pistol on my person.  I really wished I hadn’t been such an easy target.  I strongly wished I had been more aware.  I couldn’t believe the lion had gotten so close without me knowing.  I came to full draw, but it would do me little good to prevent him from jumping on me.  Twelve feet is nothing for a mountain lion.  He was way too close.  Honestly, I could better defend myself with my knife.  I eased off full draw and pulled my knife out of it’s scabbard while still keeping my eyes locked with his.  This was one staring contest that I refused to lose.

The tail of my adversary twitched back and forth as he sized me up and contemplated his next actions.  Instinctively, he knew his advantage had slipped away when I faced him.  He wanted a thrilling chase and epic takedown.  He wanted to sink his teeth into the back of my neck with a stunning pounce.  For him the thrill of the hunt had stagnated.  Now, it was more about hunger level, sheer power, brute strength, and willingness to expend the energy.  For me, it was all about survival and determination to stay upright.

This is a picture of a natural feature called Arch Rock.  It’s really a natural bridge since a defined water course has obviously eroded through the rock and created the subject’s form.  There are many arches/bridges throughout the world that are much more elegant, larger, and famous, but this particular bridge captured my attention and started spinning a story for me as I walked around it.  In many places, Arch Rock is pockmarked with bullet holes and has experienced the pressure of being used as target practice.  Sometimes, inspiration comes from some of the most obscure things.  But that point aside, I should probably address the most pressing question before people actively describe me as non compos mentis.  What does a picture of a natural bridge, and a story of a mountain lion encounter have to do with one another?

It all begins with the term erosion.  Dependable old Webster defines erosion as, “The process of something being diminished or destroyed by degrees.”  In the case of Arch Rock, a compromise in the structure with a continual attack of water and wind eventually removed cementing material exposing further weaknesses.  Over time, water saturated those superficial cracks, joints, and fissures and then swinging temperatures added to the removal of material as ice formed and then melted.  Water flow exaggerated the erosional affect, and, in due course, Arch Rock was born.  As time marches forward, external factors including humans using Arch Rock as target practice add to it’s slow degradation.  In the end, even the substantial form of Arch Rock will succumb to external pressures and erosion.  Just like every other natural bridge/arch, Arch Rock will eventually collapse.  It may take one thousand years, but it will fall, and, surprisingly, it’s demise started with a very small crack, fissure, or chink in the armor.

Every time I see an arch, I am reminded that erosion began where the rock was compromised.  In the same way, it is when I compromise my standards and faith that I allow the Devil to find a crack.  Satan wants me to compromise, and then he can begin to erode my faith through that weakness.  It is very subtle and slow, but eventually the Devil gets deeper.  Then the Devil attacks everything that is of foundational value.  Family, friends, finances, and health become targets.  If Satan can get deep enough, nothing is off limits.  Usually, just like with natural erosion, the process takes time.  It is a slow fade.  First, maybe we quit praying.  Then we quit reading the Bible.  Then we quit going to church.  Then we start hanging with the “wrong” people.  Maybe then, we get used as “target practice” by our so-called friends.  And then even close “family” join the shoot.  All along the way, we surrender pieces of our relationship with God.  Little by little, we veer off course and our Christian walk becomes a stumbling bushwhacking affair through the jungle.  Yet, the Devil keeps circling and launching attacks.  There is no reprieve.  Full penetration is what he seeks.  The Devil is a master at exploiting our weaknesses and finding the chinks in our armor.  He wiggles in deep and expands making the crack bigger.  Similar to erosion, it is a process that, given time, will collapse our faith and sabotage all that we hold dear.

“Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. Stand firm against him, and be strong in your faith. Remember that your family of believers all over the world is going through the same kind of suffering you are.”

‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭5:8-9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I still have dreams about that close encounter with the mountain lion.  The lions’ black cratered pupils surrounded by fiery lakes of greenish-gold magma hauntingly erupt through my soul.  His tail sweeps from side to side as the tip twitches in anticipation.  His muscles ripple under his tawny hide, itching to explode with lightning speed.  He dares me to run.  He dares me to drop my guard.  He patiently awaits to exploit my weaknesses.  I stand firm, but shake on the inside hoping that he doesn’t sense my fear.  I scream, “Back away!”  He tilts his head, lays his ears against his skull, and then hisses, “Until, next time!”.  He glides off into the forest as stealthily as he approached.  In three steps, he has vanished amidst the trees and shrubs.  Then I wake up with my right hand cramping.  The death grip on my imaginary knife is very real.  So is the adrenaline laced blood pumping through my veins and the cold sweat beading on my skin.  “Next time,” I mumble with dread and a slight pause, “I’ll have a gun.”

The Devil is constantly on the prowl.  Erosion of our faith and external pressures on our faith are constantly being applied.  The world is full of traps and deception.  Danger lurks everywhere.  When the Devil finds us alone, he will examine the depth of our weakness.  If it’s deep enough, he will attack the core.  If it’s not, he will let erosion continue while he circles around for the next time.  There is but one thing that stops the disturbing trend of “until next time”.  It is the proverbial “gun at a knife fight”.  It is our faith.

Unfortunately, faith is not an absolute in our lives.  That is to say, that once obtained, faith does not boldly remain and never diminish.  It must be nurtured and tended.  Like a flower, it must be watered and given sunlight.  Our faith comes from hearing the Good News about Christ and by keeping our eyes fixed on Christ who is the author and perfecter of our faith.  Accordingly then, our faith must be supplemented with the application of prayer, worship, and Bible study.  The Book of Second Peter advises supplements to our faith of virtue, knowledge, self-control, steadfastness, and brotherly love.  We, therefore, grow our faith by maturing as Christians and pursuing a relationship with God.  We will never be perfect, and it won’t always be easy.  Nevertheless, we must pick up our cross daily and defend ourselves and our family against the prowling Devil because he never stops searching for that erosional weakness.

Keep and grow the faith.  Stymie the compromise lest we fall.  Hold onto the faith and wield it boldly because the hunt is on, and we are the prey.  Until, next time!