That happened to me this morning. I listened to the beautiful serenade of my coon hound camped not far from the bedroom window and thought of Uncle Johnny. For those who haven't heard or read my previous tales of my hero, there are reasons why JD, the coon hound, made me think of Uncle Johnny. Uncle Johnny was a coon hunter extraordinaire, who gave me a love for those nights in the woods since before I could even go. I would see him and my dad leave dressed for warmth with lights on their hats, and I wanted to so badly to go with them. Uncle Johnny gave me my first hound dog, a black and tan, that turned out to be too much for me at five. He jumped on me, knocked me down, and scratched and scared me. I still cried when the man came to take him away though.
Uncle Johnny took me coon hunting the first time, the last time and almost every time in between. I don't think I went without him more than a few times in my life, and I have little desire to go now. But I still believe that the bay of a coon hound is one of the most beautiful sounds in God's creation. That's why I don't mind JD barking, when the little dogs yapping, though they're not nearly as loud, makes me nuts. And JD is special, because Uncle Johnny gave him to me. JD actually stands for Johnny's Dog. He's an irreplaceable piece of my uncle's influence and presence in my life, and Bill Gates doesn't have enough money to buy him from me.
I simply am trying to express that my relationship with my Uncle Johnny was special to me and important to me. JD's serenade made my mind go to that relationship this morning. And I remembered one night, and God used that memory to teach me something about grace, which I will share with you, Dear Reader.
The night air was cold, and I was little. I don't remember my age, but I was definitely in elementary school and my little brother wasn't old enough to be there too. Uncle Johnny, Dad and I were standing in the woods, waiting. The stars and moon were out visible through the small clearing in the woods where we stood still and quiet, with the lights off. This was the hardest part. The wait. The not making too much noise so that Uncle Johnny could hear. Then, finally, it came. The most beautiful sound my boyhood ears knew, the tree bay of a coon hound. It was time to go, to follow the sound to its source and shine the lights in the tree to find the raccoon that the dogs had cornered.
We needed to move fast, and there simply wasn't any way that my little boy legs could carry me quickly enough or far enough to keep up. Uncle Johnny knelt down in front of me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He stood with a hand under my legs, holding me to him, and I rode my Uncle to the symphony as he carried me through the woods. My weight didn't slow him or seem to hinder him at all, and I didn't feel ashamed. It was fun. It was special. I felt loved and excited about the adventure.
I didn't keep trying to wriggle out of his grip and get on the ground to try to show that I could do it myself. I didn't try to figure out a way to somehow make myself lighter or take my weight from his back, to be less of a burden to him. No, I just leaned into him, my head resting against his neck, straining to see in the dark, waiting to catch a glimpse of the dogs. It was all him. I was just along for the ride, and it was wonderful.
I needed him. I didn't resist his help. I didn't resist being completely vulnerable to him as he chose each step of the journey, ducked us under limbs and powered through thorn bushes that scratched at his legs but couldn't reach me. I didn't insist on trying to contribute to what he was doing. I received his love and care for me and the necessity that if we were going to accomplish the goal, I needed to be a part of the journey but not a hindrance. It wasn't Uncle Johnny having to take care of me and carry me that would be a hindrance, but rather if I insisted on doing my own thing and not surrendering. I needed to be quiet when it was time to be quiet. Then I needed to let him carry me when I was not able to make the journey, and I needed to listen to him to know when those times came.
I do not nullify the grace of God, for if righteousness comes through the Law, then Christ died needlessly.
- Galatians 2:21
God and my Uncle Johnny had a lot of things in common. They both loved me more than I fully understood or deserved, for one thing. They also both wanted me with them on an adventure that I was not able to make on my own. God's all about the relationship with us. He wants us to be a part of what He's doing. But the thing is, when it comes time to be doing the God stuff, the real journey and adventure, the loving like Jesus, the compassion and service for others, the going through the obstacles and darkness of life in such a way that we are where we need to be when we need to be there for God's plans and purposes to be accomplished, if we do anything more than listen, hang on to Him, and enjoy the ride, we're in the way. We're nullifying what He did and is doing for us. We make His grace meaningless. He doesn't need us to add our advice, thoughts and opinions to His plan. He doesn't need us to combine our power with His to get the job done. He needs us to get as close to Him as possible and allow Him to carry us through and above what is in the way. We need Him to overcome our inability to do what needs to be done.
There's nothing I can do that will ever make me strong enough or good enough to keep up with God. And if I insist on trying, on climbing down from His back or wriggling out of His arms so that I can try to run beside where he's walking or follow Him through the woods, I will only make the journey more difficult and mess things up, be a hindrance. I simply can't do it. I will run into trees, get caught in thorns, trip over things in the dark, run out of energy and fall behind. My little legs had no hope of keeping up with my Uncle Johnny, and my little goodness has no hope of keeping up with the love and goodness of God. Neither does yours. All we do when we add our efforts to the mix is hinder the process.
Grace is not about God giving us what we need to be able to supplement our effort and strength. Grace is God kneeling down so that we can climb on His back and get carried. It's about releasing our efforts and qualifications entirely and becoming a part of the journey by being along for the ride. He doesn't need our help. He just wants us there with Him. And if we listen and enjoy His presence, like my Uncle Johnny did with me, when the time is right, He'll even let us shine the light.
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