The Lion, the Jeep and the Shotgun

"Safety is all well and good; I prefer freedom"...Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White



I had been thinking about it for some time.


My first job out of college was at a wild animal park in Irvine, CA. Now defunct, it was one of several around the country called Lion Country Safari. (It is now a water park called Wild Rivers, I think). It was unique in that vistors drove through in their cars while the animals roamed free. This was somewhat hazardous, as you can imagine, and one of my jobs as a "ranger" was to make sure the visitors didn't get hurt... or eaten, in the case of the lions.

I sat in a jeep, a loaded sawed-off shotgun next to me, for hours each day amongst one of the lion prides in the park. The lions would mostly sleep as the visitors sat in their air-conditioned cars, gawking at the wild, but relaxed cats. The cubs would play and the adults would move around somewhat. I was there in case something happened. People often rolled down their windows, which we instantly commanded them to put back up. (Each visitor had a tape tour which warned them about this-it also assured them that the "highly trained rangers" would be there for their safety. We all laughed about this-I had fired the gun exactly once at a board in the dirt.)

After a while, a certain lioness began to regularly lie down next to my jeep. I have no idea why. None of the others ever did, and usually gave the jeep a wide berth. They were not tame and we never got out with them. But this one just seemed , well, to like me.

I began to think about reaching through the bars on the window and seeing if I could pet her. Now I can't really explain why, I just wanted to. To see if I could. To see if she would let me.

It took days for me to work up the courage. And then one day, with my other hand on the shotgun, I reached out and stroked her back. She slowly turned up her head and looked up at me. Her eyes seemed to say "Well, if you want to, it's ok. I will allow it" She put her head back down and went back to sleep.

Is this not a picture of God? If we want to know Him, it is on his terms. He has the power to destroy us, but instead approaches us. As goes the famous line from Narnia, "He is not safe...but he is good."

Author John Eldridge speaks of the "wildness" of God, who does or allows the unexpected.

I'll never forget the day when the king (or queen I guess) of beasts did the unexpected: let me get close.

The King of the Universe invites us to come close to Him as well.

But on His terms.....

And that is, if you really think about it...unexpected

Keeping Christmas

As usual, I have the post holiday blues. I love Christmas, for all the obvious reasons. Every year I read this , and pause....



Keeping Christmas by Henry Van Dyke


There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.

Are you willing...

to forget what you have done for other people, and to remember what other people have done for you;
to ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world;
to put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground;
to see that men and women are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy;
to own up to the fact that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life;
to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe, and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness.

Are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing...

to stoop down and consider the needs and desires of little children;
to remember the weakness and loneliness of people growing old;
to stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough;
to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear in their hearts;
to try to understand what those who live in the same home with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you;
to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you;
to make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open— Are you willing to do these things, even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing...

to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world—
stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death—
and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love?
Then you can keep Christmas.
And if you can keep it for a day, why not always?

But you can never keep it alone.