I retreat. If I were ever called into battle, I would be the one assigned to carry the trumpet and stand sheepishly in the back to sound the retreat. I know this about myself. When faced with conflict or discomfort or awkwardness, my instinct is to run. For as long as I can remember, avoidance has been my go-to strategy to deal with life when it feels overwhelming. I have even learned how to justify these behaviors of avoidance and isolation. I tell myself that disengaging and hiding is just a natural way of surviving the challenges that life brings. It's all about self-preservation, right? I try to persuade myself into believing (falsely) that here, in solitude, I will find true and sustaining peace.
And then I am faced with the gospel. Graciously, I'm confronted with the God who came near. Jesus didn't retreat. Of course, He had His wilderness times. Sweet and trying moments of isolation. But He didn't use these moments to avoid life. He didn't look at the brokenness and hurt and pain and evil and choose to run. He came close. He entered into the same things that I run away from. And He calls us to engage, to be His hands and feet in this world.
This contrast between being near and running away became abundantly clear to me last fall when I was out hiking. I have a couple of small, beloved, local mountains that I hike regularly. They are my little retreats. During one hike I was struck by the contrast of the names of these two: Solitude and Lovewell.
Solitude is the name of a lake that sits atop Mt. Sunapee. It's probably the first mountain that I ever climbed. It holds invaluable memories. But it's name suggests what I often seek when I run away from life and the challenges it brings. Solitude. Just the word alone brings a sigh of relief and the promise of a sought-after refuge.
The second mountain is a more recent discovery for me, but has quickly become one of my favorite places to go. Its name also carries great significance. Lovewell. Love well. As I walk through the woods and sneak glimpses of stunning views of the mountains and valleys, I am reminded of the great love of the Creator. His love alone is what bring life and then again brings salvation and hope that lasts beyond this life. It is His very nature to love well.
As I was hiking along and contrasting these two names, I was struck by how my search for the one has often prevented me from experiencing the other. When I avoid difficult people or relationships or circumstances and seek solitude, I'm often missing out on the opportunity to love well. In my pride and fear I believe that what I need most is an escape, when in reality maybe what I've been saved and called by God for is to love well, as He has loved me, in the midst of the chaos of life.
There are so many different ways that this love is manifest in a life. Christ's love can show itself in the encouraging words of a friend, in the sovereign provision of daily needs, in strength beyond understanding through trying circumstances, and in a hope that looks beyond the temporal to the eternal. Christ's love showed itself by writing a better story. His love tells us the story of a people who are being redeemed by the God who loved His creation to the point of dying for it. His love tells us the story of a God who doesn't leave us alone. He doesn't let us retreat into ourselves and our own solitude. He doesn't agree with the heart that believes the created will satisfy. Instead, He leans in close and tells us who we really are. We are worshippers who were made for Him. His love gives us back our true purpose and makes us fully alive. No longer do we have to merely struggle to survive, to find our own way in this life. Instead, we have the well-loving God who tells us, "This is the way. Walk in it."
...Your steadfast love, O LORD, extends to the heavens,
your faithfulness to the clouds.
Your righteousness is like the mountains of God;
your judgments are like the great deep;
man and beast you save, O LORD.
How precious is your steadfast love, O God!
The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings...
~Psalm 36:5-8
