Fuzzy Theology

No High-Adventure camp would be complete without a trail ride through the forest on the back of a steady steed. But if you’ve learned anything about our adventure so far, you’ll know that what we signed up for and what actually happened were two totally different things.

Before you go imagining a picturesque ride through the trees, along mountain streams, check out the previous parts of our story by clicking here. Dust off your cowboy hat and crack open those study bibles for another wild adventure.

By this point on our trip, we’d been robbed, beaten by rapids, suffered the humiliation of questionable shower situations, and seen phantom pirates roaming the camp. We’d also made a priest cry, found ourselves carrying extra-large walking sticks, and shooed all manner of God’s creatures from inside our cabins.

Why we ever thought we would survive a round of horseback riding, I’ll never know, but Day Six found us saddling up at the top of a ridge for a trail down the mountain side.

As with all of our adventures, it didn’t take long to realize we were doomed… or at least I was.

Unlike our whitewater rafting excursion earlier that week – of which I was truly a novice – I’d actually been horseback riding before. So I entered into the adventure with a strange feeling of confidence stirring my insides. Looking back, it was probably my Guardian Angel trying to warn me this wasn’t about to go well.

I’m really good at getting my signals crossed.

We’d hiked up the side of the mountain, a mile or so away from our base camp until we arrived at the small ranch at the top. The scenery was beautiful with the hilltops around us covered in deep green, the sky above us shining clear blue, and the weather – for a change – cooperating with our need to be outdoors.

The only thing that didn’t fit this picture of beauty were the horses.

No – unfortunately, our riding companions were more trail-weary animals bickering like siblings during a long road trip than gentle creatures ready to help. There were twelve or so of them tied to hitching posts in a small corral.

For my previous horseback riding experiences, we’d been given help to mount up. The horses had been brought over to a platform, making it easier for us to climb into the saddle and get situated.

While I wasn’t new to horseback riding, I was no rodeo expert. And to be honest, I’d never saddled up without help before. But it looked like I was going to learn – and fast. I watched my teens hop, and flop, and push their way up into their saddles while their horses snorted and pawed the earth.

After making sure everyone was safely ready, it was my turn.

Now, I’m not what you’d call a graceful swan. God has granted me with many gifts – like the ability to find every corner with my knee, every doorway with my elbow, and every bump in the road with my toes.

But in that moment, with the noon sun baking down on us and the eyes of my teens, other chaperones, and the tour guides watching me, I slipped my foot into the stirrup, and pulled myself up and into the saddle in a move I couldn’t replicate to save my life.

I was channeling my inner cowgirl.

…for the moment.

I didn’t know it at that time, but I wouldn’t be leaving the area on the back of a horse.

Our tour guides began unhitching the reins and passing them to each rider. We were supposed to begin walking down the trail, using the reins and our knees to nudge our horses to move.

The first problem was: they expected our teens – many of whom had never even seen a horse before – to know how to ride one.

The second problem was: our horses were smarter than we were. But not the kind of smart that wins Nobel Peace Prizes. No, the kind of smart that snorts and looks at you like you’ve chewed on someone’s crayon.

And the final problem: our horses were jerks. They hated each other.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when the horse next to me took offense to not being released sooner – and nipped my horse’s back leg.

I have never been nipped by a horse before, but I can tell you after hearing the sounds coming from mine, I never want to.

The reaction was immediate.

Some say my horse bucked.

Some say it leapt.

I have no idea what it truly did, but all I know is one minute we were standing next to the post, and the next we were yards away.

And for one shining moment, I was still sitting atop the saddle beaming with pride.

But pride comes before the fall.

And fall I did.

Flat on my back.

On the top of the mountain.

There were many things that floated through my mind as I plummeted to the ground. Many were prayers for safety. Many were regrets I didn’t do more in life before this moment when surely everything was going to change. And yes, the world slowed to a crawl.

No one rushed over to see if I was ok. They were all clutching their own saddles, hoping they wouldn’t be doomed to suffer the same fate. I didn’t blame them.

Our tour guide called from the head of the line, “You going to get back on?”

I could make a comment here about getting back into the saddle after a fall and tie it into some mega-important life lesson. But in that moment, I wouldn’t have listened.

“Nope. I’m good,” I answered, surprised I still had a voice after the wind had been knocked out of me. “Just going to lie here a bit.”

I watched the horses amble away, as I slowly moved and stretched to make sure nothing was broken. By some small miracle, it wasn’t.

But I did have a long walk back to base camp ahead of me. One I’d have to make while bruised both inside and out.

I must have gotten lost because instead of ending up at base camp, I stumbled upon the front porch of nothing less than a mansion in the woods. I’m talking full wrap-around porch with Adirondack chairs, real glass in the windows, and what looked like electricity running into the building.

I bet they even had private showers with real indoor plumbing.

Not that I was jealous or anything.

And stepping out of the mansion, was the youth leader in charge of our trip. One look at me told her everything she needed to know. She ushered me inside, into the air conditioning, and onto the softest couch I’d ever sat on. Ice appeared from the fridge and for a moment, I allowed myself to sink into the first-world comforts I’d given up for the past week.

And I rested.

I put down my burdens and I rested.

In this bizarre cabin mansion, on the top of the mountain, minutes after being thrown off my horse. For once this trip, I took myself off the roster. I benched myself.

And allowed myself to heal.

Not going to lie, scripture gives some pretty conflicting verses when you’re faced with the challenges, hardships, and setbacks life gives you. On one side, we’re told to lay down our burdens and God will grant us rest. On the other, we’re emboldened to take up our cross and follow Him.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be picking up or putting down these days.

But here’s what I do know.

No matter what option you choose, God will provide what you need.

Like Simon who helped Jesus carry the cross, or like the youth minister who appeared from the mansion cabin, there will be people on your path who are ready to help.

It was this knowledge that the Disciples held as they began their ministry safe in the hope that whatever was down the road, whatever hardship, whatever setback, whatever persecution lay in front of them, God would walk with them.

As He’s promised to walk with us.

“Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.”

Matthew 28:20

Thank you for joining me for another Adventure in Youth Ministry. If you’ve read this, know you are in my prayers. I would love to connect with you. You can find me on Twitter @FuzzyTheology. Or drop a comment below!