There are adventures in life even at 66. Yesterday my brother Billy drug my lover and me over Black Mountain, in our mules, his a hot rod, my a farmer’s worker. Through swamps, ruts, boulder-strewn run-offs, and an old resort golf course on Renegade Mountain that he and I had helped build 50 years ago, now just an overgrown part of the wilds of Bat Town. After an hour and a half, my lover and I quit. You can only stay in a tumble dryer for so long. We limped off the mountain, found some easier trial, and ended back at Kemmer’s Store where we had begun. This morning, I read the story of Abram’s beginning with God. His personal relationship with God was marked by hikes, altar building, finding great trees, camping, fire building, and bloodletting. It is Sabbath morning and as is my habit I will attend and participate in worship but my personal relationship with God is mainly done outdoors, in great forests, long forgotten backsides of mountains, joys of the wilds, and a brother laughing at the old me all along the way. This is the God we may have forgotten but is the One who wants us to come along with Him, away from our comfortable religion and into the wild of the good earth He made just for our relationship with Him. And one other thing, friendship with God and little brothers will often leave you terribly sore.
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