On the face of it, of course the mountains are bigger in
Cusco – bigger than in most places. We are living in the Andes, 3,300m above
sea level. The summit of the mountain behind our house is 1,000m higher than
the city in the foothills below. I was writing to a friend recently, talking
about the beauty of the surrounding countryside and the way the mountains
display the amazing creative power of God and then, in the same paragraph,
describing the ‘mountains’ of poverty, spiritual evil, institutional
corruption, dishonesty and mistrust that we struggle with. Living
cross-culturally perhaps I see these types of ‘mountain’ very clearly, more so
than if I had grown up here. I wonder if people moving to Britain see other
mountains that we British don’t see?
Anyway, the current climb, which we started about five years
ago, is adoption paperwork. We pray, our families pray, almost everyone we know
prays, but we see only very slow progress. Sometimes there is no obvious
progress for weeks on end. Is that because the mountain is so huge – a human
construction which contains a complex, slow and frustrating system influenced
by corruption and mistrust? Perhaps. Or does Jesus walk more slowly in Cusco?
That question brings me to something Jesus said about his
burden being light and his yoke, easy. It is currently ploughing time in the
little fields around our house. A few people now use a tractor but most still
use a pair of oxen. I was reading recently about Jesus’ use of the word ‘yoke’
and about oxen learning to plough.
When Jesus spoke of a yoke he was almost certainly thinking of the wooden beam
used to join two ploughing oxen. The word ‘disciple’ comes from the word for
learner, which is the same word used for a younger ox learning how to plough
from an older ox. So when Jesus spoke of us taking his yoke upon us, he is
imagining each one of us as a young ox walking alongside himself, the older,
experienced ox. Apparently, when a young ox begins to plough he will tend to go
too fast and wear himself out before the day is out. But joined by the yoke to
an older ox he will have to go at the correct pace. He can’t wander off and
plough a different field. He won’t plough wobbly furrows. He won’t charge off
and cause damage. He gets to rest once the job is done.
To me, this signifies that we need to learn to walk at Jesus’
pace through life, in the ‘field’ that he chooses. He will set the right pace,
walk in a straight line and help us get the job done that he has in mind for
us. (Did you ever read in the Bible a section that says: And Jesus rushed off. He was in such a hurry that he decided to leave
his disciples at home that day ...) We may think that a faster pace would
be better or that another field looks easier or more interesting. We might
think that ploughing all through the night is a good plan. We might consider
the idea of charging off on our own somewhere - but who knows what damage that
may cause! I wonder if sharing Jesus’ yoke with him sounds restricting? Prior
to this, Jesus had said, ‘Come to me all you who are weary and I will give you
rest.’ He was thinking of our best interests, not trying to hold us back in
life.
In many aspects of life, Jesus may walk more slowly than we
would wish. Maybe an illness, a house move, learning a new language, teaching a
child with additional needs or a job hunt seem to be never-ending. Begging him
to hurry up is perhaps not the answer. Asking him about the pace, and what we are
supposed to be learning and enjoying on the way, is perhaps more productive.
From my perspective, the mountains are higher and Jesus does
walk more slowly in Cusco. But it is better to struggle over the mountains than
give up, and to walk with Jesus than without him. However, I’m still hoping
that we’ll reach a downhill section soon ....
‘When you
stop trying to control your life and instead allow your anxieties and problems
to bring you to God in prayer, you shift from worrying to watching. You watch
God weave his patterns in the story of your life. Instead of trying to be out
front, designing your life, you realise you are inside God’s drama. As you
wait, you begin to see him work, and your life begins to sparkle with wonder.
You are learning to trust again.’
Paul E. Miller, A
Praying Life, NavPress 2009
