Watership Down

I asked them a question the last time I sat with them. I have no idea why it came to mind. Perhaps it was only to remind myself.

“Do you guys have a favorite book, or series of books? You know, books you can read again and again, that still hold your interest?”

They seemed surprised, but we discussed their favorites—and mine—for a few minutes, and then moved on to other subjects. I wished later that we hadn’t. Moved on, that is.

I did it again. Argued vociferously for something I don’t really care about. Just because.

I may have offended.

I’ll not be apologizing.

Well, I probably won’t. They asked me not to the last time I did. It’s not like anyone is still upset with anyone else. We had a discussion, and it came to an end.

I simply need to remember not to bring up the same points the next time we discuss the subject.

But the books…

I was reminded that I haven’t picked up any of my old friends from the shelves for a while. The siren call of the screens is so much louder. So much more insistent. And, I’m not sure I like that.

So, I’m reading about the rabbits again. I don’t know which time it is. The seventh or eighth, I think. It doesn’t matter.

They are headed for Watership Down once more. Actually, have already arrived in the book I’m reading. But, the journey—the struggle—is never-ending. The task, the conflict, lasts a lifetime.

My mind has already jumped ahead in the story. It seemed important to me tonight. The reader may decide if it is or not.

Without giving away any spoilers, I’ll tell you that the main character, Hazel, is a rabbit who is steadfast and wise, leading the ragtag troop of rabbits on their adventures. But, in the particular conflict I’m thinking about (a real fight, by the way), he departs from the pitched battle, leaving his strong friend, Bigwig, to fight a war there seems no hope of winning.

Not explaining his plan, he tells Bigwig, “Don’t give in to them on any account.”

And then, he is gone without any explanation of why. Leaving them to defend themselves on their own. Knowing there will be pain.

I’m not a rabbit. I’m fairly certain no one reading this is one, either.

But sometimes, I wonder. Like those few beasts left behind in this story, I wonder if it’s worth the fight. If it’s worth the cost.

But then, I remember I’ve been given a charge to keep. Each of us who follows Jesus has.

“Therefore, put on every piece of God’s armor so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil. Then after the battle you will still be standing firm.” (Ephesians 6:13, NLT)

“Don’t give in to them on any account.”

In the book I’m reading, the enemies, stronger and greater in number than our heroes, break through their defenses and are met in a narrow place by the one scarred and wounded warrior who was given the directive from the Chief Rabbit.

When Bigwig, bleeding and horribly wounded, is cajoled and bribed with promises of better circumstances, he only replies, “My Chief Rabbit has told me to defend this run, and until he says otherwise, I shall stay here.”

Scarred and bent, but not broken.

I’m not certain if the author of the book intended for there to be a deeper message. It’s there, anyway.

“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.”
(2 Corinthians 4:8-9, NLT)

Surely, I’m not the only one who’s feeling this way today.

The battle is too hard. The warriors standing side-by-side with us seem to be wounding us with their weapons almost as much as the ones on the other side of the battle line. It’s almost as if we think we are in a battle with other humans, rather than with beliefs, spiritual kingdoms, and ideological wickedness in high places. (Ephesians 6:12)

I may have made one of the errant swipes with a weapon myself. Or more than one.

But I’m still standing.

I think I can stand here a little longer.

He’s coming back soon. He said He would.

We could stand together while we wait, you and I. I promise, I’ll be a little more careful with my sharp weapons.

And, I may even apologize one more time. Or, more than once.

Stand here with me awhile anyway—would you?

“Thank you, O my God,
for loving me enough
that you would rouse
my deepest desires again through story,
appointing these longings as true signposts
planted in a war-torn and cratered landscape,
reminding me that all of history is leading at last
to a King and a kingdom,
and pointing me ever onward toward
His righteous and eternal city.”
(from Lament Upon the Finishing of a Beloved Book, in Every Moment Holy, by Douglas McKelvey)

The message from my fitness program caught my eye as I clicked it off after my run tonight.

“Paul ran 3.99 miles.”

I set out from home tonight with a goal of running four miles. I failed to meet that goal by one one-hundredth of a mile! Only fifty-three feet.

I failed.

It’s not a moral failing. The four-mile goal was an arbitrary distance, set by an ambitious energetic man, unburdened by the weight of fatigue. It hadn’t come down as an edict from Heaven, with grim repercussions to follow, should the course not be completed.

My decision to stop short was not a calculated one. The last two blocks of my run were spent alternating between gasping for breath, holding my side, and muttering a plea for the voice on my fitness program to announce the four miles already. The need for air and relief from discomfort won out over the desire to meet my arbitrary goal.

Still, I failed.

Tonight, from my comfortable office chair, rested and hydrated, I look at those numbers in the statistics. They mock me.

3.99 miles. Not 4 miles. Not 4.1. Three point nine-nine.

At the speed I was running tonight, it would only have taken six more seconds to reach the goal. Six seconds!

I’ll get over my disappointment with myself. I hope I can do better. That said, this is not the first time I’ve quit before reaching a goal. One would think a fellow would have learned his lesson.

My mind (and heart) has moved on to other things, even as I consider your disappointment in me, just now learning I’m a quitter. You’ll simply have to get used to the feeling. I have.

Tonight though, I’m wondering about how many people have spent a lifetime working toward a goal, only to give up within a stone’s throw of their objective. Tired and disheartened, uncertain of how much further their destination will be, their attention is stolen away by the attractions along the road.

Comfort could be theirs. They’ve never cared before, the reality of their mission imprinted indelibly in their hearts. But now? Now they’re tired—tired and lonely. Everyone around them is inside and warm, safe from the perils of the quest.

I know folks like this. Many glance at the roadside attractions and recognize them for what they are—nothing but bait in a trap. Focusing on their goal and the prize awaiting them, they turn away and go the extra distance, shunning the alternative. Be it fifty feet or fifty years, they will finish the course laid out before them.

But some—some no longer have their attention centered on the right thing. Somewhere, over the years, the focus has moved from the Author and shifted to the runner.

Look at me! I’m giving up everything to participate in this race. I’ve trained; I’ve sacrificed; I’ve put all I have into running.

And, they have. A lifetime of doing what is required of the athlete. A lifetime. But the focus is lost, the goal becomes fuzzy. The spirit begins to hope for other things, other prizes.

The race is lost. The runner is defeated—a failure.

So close. So close, but so far.

Years ago, I read a book called Watership Down. I thought it would be about adventures and battles at sea, but it turned out to be about rabbits. Rabbits. I went ahead and read it. I read it again. And again. You might want to do it someday yourself. It is a story of trial and triumph—a story of perseverance, and of finding home.

One of the long-eared creatures, Hazel, who has become the leader of the ragtag band of rabbits, is leading them to a place most aren’t sure even exists. Throughout the nightmarish journey, he keeps repeating the words not far now again and again. For hours he guides them through the dark, not sure himself of just where the goal will be found, but certain in his heart that the place for which they’re bound is very real.

When they reach their goal, they are ecstatic, admitting that even they weren’t absolutely certain the place to which he was leading them would be there.

They had followed anyway, trusting their leader, even when they weren’t sure of the destination.

How about it? Is the path growing dim, the road harder to make out? Do you have a catch in your side? Are you gasping for breath yet?

Sure, there’s a comfortable stop just over there—a place where others are relaxing and enjoying the evening. We could rest here.

But we haven’t reached our goal yet. That’s up ahead still.

Let’s keep going.

Not far now.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
(Hebrews 12:1-3 ~ NIV)

I was so tired and confused, I actually began to wonder whether you knew where you were going. I could hear you in the heather saying ‘Not far now,” and it was annoying me. I thought you were making it up. I should have known better. Frithrah! You’re what I call a real Chief Rabbit!
(from Watership Down by Richard Adams ~ English novelist)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Stand and Fight

Not Far Now