Putting Your Life on the Line

Ok, folks, the story that I'm about to relate to you is completely true with no exaggeration (and it's very exciting).  It did not happen today, it occurred on Saturday, but since I was in the middle of sharing my reflections with you in hopes that it may spark some of your own personal reflections I decided to wait to share the story with you today.  Plus, it works out anyway.  Since I already made my opinions clear on Memorial Day and the days thereafter, I will only subtly make the same arguments here.  Part of my reflections on the story I'm about to share will be a response to a comment from my Memorial Day post about the Gospel of John, chapter 10, about the greatest love being laying down one's life for others.  Before I start telling you the story I'll recap for you: I do not believe that the Scripture verse can be applied to soldiers because, as Dr. Sharon Ringe of Wesley Theological Seminary argues, putting down one's life means putting it on the line, not sacrificing one's life. 

The Scripture passage I'm referring to (which can be found in another place in the Gospel of John, and in 1 John as well) reads: "11 I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12 He who is a hireling and not a shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees; and the wolf  snatches them and scatters them.  13 He flees because he is a hireling and cares nothing for the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd; I know my own and my own know me, 15 as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. 16 And I have other sheep, that are not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will heed my voice. So there shall be one flock, one  shepherd. 17 For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life, that I may take it again.  18 No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again; this charge I have received from my Father."

Story time.  Saturday was a short day, just forty miles.  Because it was a short day with only two turns, Thomas slept in a bit as I biked onward to avoid as much heat as possible (even though the highs have dropped to 90 degrees or below, making for some nice days).  Most of the ride was on 54 South which, like most roads here in New Mexico that are not interstates, had very little traffic on it.  So little traffic, in fact, that I just stayed on the road and didn't care about the shoulder.  In general, as far as road conditions go, the road is much safer and faster.  On the side of 54 South (and 60 West that we took today) is nothing but yellow grass, an occasional cow, and two fences.  I suppose that the first fence is meant to protect a rancher's land and the second fence about ten feet closer to the road is meant to give a little more protection for people on the road.

The first twenty-five miles were very enjoyable.  As we get closer to the Rockies the elevation gain is getting a little more severe, but just a little.  It's enough, though, that up here at 6000 feet and higher I'm starting to notice a little more difficulty breathing.  For the most part I haven't cared because the sights have been beautiful, especially the mountains off in the distance.  Occasionally I was blessed with the first few sightings of gazelles.  One gazelle was stuck on my side of the fences and had nowhere to run when it was frightened by my approach.  So I chased the gazelle for a long, long while before it decided to just sit tight and wait until I passed.

Shortly before mile 30 I was coming up to a long hill.  I told myself that at the top of the hill I would stop for a little break to switch water bottles and give my hands and wrists a break, as well as my legs, obviously, for a faster final ten miles.  As I was telling myself this, I heard a pit-pattering behind me.  I thought it was another lost gazelle stuck on the wrong side of the fences so I was more concerned about checking my shoelaces that were feeling loose, didn't want them to fly into my chain.  It was a few seconds before I turned around to look at what was following me.  When I finally did, I couldn't believe what I saw to the point that I couldn't even clearly see it.  Not a gazelle, not a dog (by this point in the trip, I wouldn't have been surprised if a dog came out of nowhere to attack me), not a rattlesnake that my mother keeps telling me to watch out for.  No, none of these things.  Instead, I was looking into the hungry face of a hyena.

Yes, a friggin hyena.  A hyena chasing me.  By the time that my brain and eyes agreed that this was indeed a predatory animal, the hyena had already cut across the road enough to be directly behind me at about five feet.  I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking at that moment.  It wasn't much, that's for sure.  I can certainly say that I didn't understand that I was in any danger.  In my head I was simply reacting as if it was one of the many little dogs that have chased me.  With dogs I had simply boosted away.  Dogs can't keep up with me for very long, if at all.  So here was this hyena five feet behind me and I, without thinking, boosted away as much as I could.

Apparently, a little boost is not going to tire out a hyena or make it give up.  If I had done any thinking before reacting I might not have wasted energy like that.  Hyenas of course salivate when they see something alone and a little bit slower than it's familiar with.  I'm not surprised that it chose to chase me.  Not being surprised I should have recollected my knowledge that predators in climates like the one here in New Mexico often go many days between kills, making each chase absolutely crucial and desperate.  Silly of me, then, to think that I could tire out or make a desperate, hungry hyena give up after a few hundred feet.  So after I had shifted up and powered away, expecting to turn around and see the hyena somewhere in my trail of dirt sadly watching me bike away, I instead was welcomed with the sight of the hyena still pit-pattering away behind me.  I had gained maybe ten feet, giving me about fifteen feet of leeway.

My boost had done little more than tire me out.  And now I had started the climb up the hill.  It wasn't steep, its grade was average as far as hills go, but it was long.  Up to this point the chase had lasted probably a little more than a tenth of a mile.  The plan, insofar as a gut reaction can be called a plan, had failed completely.  Biking up a hill is worse on the legs and lungs (especially when you're not used to the elevation) than running up a hill.  I can still bike up a hill a lot faster than running but I feel worse if I pedal at a decent speed.  With a fifteen foot lead, though, I allowed myself some time to think.  Unfortunately all my thoughts went straight to how the hyena came out at the worst possible time: I was in need of switching water bottles because I had run out, I had already ridden a respectable distance, and now I was going up a hill.  I couldn't think straight when all my mind was telling was, "You're gonna lose, suckahhh!!!"  Somehow I decided something.  I decided that I'd bike at whatever speed felt comfortable with a bit of pain mixed in and hope that the hyena would think that I had a lot more left than it did.

Bad plan for the most part.  The next time I turned around the hyena couldn't have been more than two feet behind me.  Then next thing I know is that it was trying to come up next to me on my left side.  I suppose that it was smart enough to understand that if it tried biting onto my wheel that it would seriously hurt itself (I make this supposition only after the fact.  While the chase was on I was actually most worried that it was bite into my rear tire, stop my bike, and then attack me.  I wasn't really thinking anything, though, so it doesn't really matter what I thought).

Thankfully, a 16-wheeler truck made its way over the hill coming the other way before the hyena could pull even with my foot.  The truck scared the hyena enough for it to slow down and start running on my right side.  When I saw that it hadn't stopped but had just moved over I swerved a bit over onto the other side of the road to get as close as possible to the path of the truck.  I'm guessing that the truck driver saw what was going on because he didn't honk at me at all, he simply gave me the space that I wanted to keep the hyena as scared as possible as far away from me as possible.  While the truck passed I noticed that the hyena had made its way all the way over to the grass beyond the shoulder, saving me another few feet.  Crossing the road to me again the hyena had fallen back to about five feet again.

I think the majority of my mind, body, and heart thought this was a game.  Certainly I knew that I couldn't let the hyena catch me, but I had no panic or fear in me, at least none that I was aware of at the time.  In the little game I thought that the best I could do was pedal as hard as I could without completely tiring myself out.  Well, game or not that apparently was still a bad plan.  The hyena once again closed the gap to less than a foot and was starting to try to come up on my side to get a look at my feet.  When I realized that I could now hear it huffing and puffing is when I came to understand that I was in danger.  This was no dog that I could just look at and scare away or perhaps kick in the face; this was no game; this was a wild hyena hungry enough to chase me for what was now about half a mile.

Starting to feel fear crawl up my spine I knew that my only hope was to get to the top of the hill where I could speed up and pull away whether the hyena tired out or not.  Looking up I saw that I still had a couple tenths of a mile left, and my legs were burning like I had never felt before and I was beginning to have some difficulty breathing.  Then I looked to see where the hyena was and I thought I had won.  The hyena had fallen a few feet behind me and was not running with the same smoothness that I had seen it run with heretofore, and certainly not the same speed.  Absolutely needing the danger to be over, really hoping for the hyena to have nothing left at all, I too slowed down.  Seeing me slow down must have given the hyena restored hope that it would come away with a meal because it went from almost a standstill to running quickly again.  Within moments it was already even with my tire pulling up to my side.

Now more than ever I felt afraid.  I very well may not have been that afraid before in my life.  I thought that I could hear it starting to hum pleasurable anticipation.  I thought that I was a goner.  I started cursing my luck, that Thomas was not with me, that I had gotten into the habit of leaving alone, that the hyena jumped out at the worst possible time.  Those curses (insofar as non-swear words and a lack of actual condemnation can be considered curses) were all in my head, out loud I yelled at the hyena, "Who the frick do you think you are?!  Go the frick away!"  To myself I screamed, "C'mon!!!!  You're not dying today!"  Fear consumed me.  I figured that I should pray to God but had no idea what to say.  I thought of some last words that might be inspirational, but then became distraught that no one would be around to hear them.  I wondered if I'd be able to kill the hyena in a fight.  I wondered how painful the first bite would be and how quickly it could kill me, hoping that it would be fast.  I didn't want to feel much.  I didn't want to be left writhing in pain for hours as the hyena slowly chewed its way through me.

Having thought through these things I realized that if I were going to die my best bet was to make myself faint.  After swerving a bit to give myself a little extra room to shift up some more, I started pounding away at Cato's pedals like I never have and probably never will again.  After just a couple hundred of feet my legs were begging me to stop, my lungs felt like they were going to collapse, I couldn't breathe at all, and I was seeing black.  Even after all that exertion I still had only gained a few feet on the hyena... but I was very close to the top of the hill.  All I needed now was a few seconds to catch my breath a bit and then one last boost to the top.  I was pushing myself way past my limit, and now the hyena was catching up again.

But my legs now felt like they had a bit more to give.  I thought maybe the new sensation meant that I was about to die.  On the contrary, I looked away from the hyena and saw that I was close enough to the top of the hill that it was leveling out, I was safe.  I waved goodbye to the hyena and sped down the hill.

Only after the chase did I understand exactly how serious the situation was.  Ironically, though, after the chase I started feeling sorry for the hyena.  I kept thinking about the last image of the hyena I had: walking slowly at the top of the hill and seemingly sadly watching me go.  Perhaps it was a little confused, too, how I could all of a sudden pick up so much speed when I was so clearly tired.  I'm sure that the hyena thought that it had won near the end.  I hope that the hyena doesn't die because it wasn't able to catch me, but I am not afraid to admit that I now have a much better sense of the fragility of life and how thankful I am for my own.

Now, I don't want to leave this long post to just be a telling of this most exciting story.  Since it is "Independence" Day I should reflect on it a bit.  When the Gospel of John speaks of laying down one's life for one's sheep, Jesus is not referring to people who actually sacrifice their lives.  If you disagree with that statement, take it up with world-renowned biblical scholar Dr. Ringe.  Jesus respects and loves life, if he intends for his followers to have life why would he inspire them to sacrifice that life?  When a shepherd lies down at the gate he has no intention of dying there.  The shepherd knows that the wolf is unlikely to attack any of the sheep with a human standing guard.  The shepherd may be standing (or lying) guard peacefully, but the act of lying down is enough to keep away predators and preserve the life of all the sheep.

Even in our world today, the passage that I referred to above can in no way apply to soldiers going off to war to protect by killing and in the process perhaps be killed themselves.  As I said a month ago I will say again: I respect what soldiers of this country and every country do, fighting for what they believe is right; or even if they're merely fighting for a paycheck.  Still, I do not know how we can celebrate the glories of our soldiers or of this country on our "Independence" Day when there is an inglorious stain on our achievements that numbers 27 million.  27 million people right now who don't have their independence; 19,000 new slaves every year in this country alone that today celebrates its independence.  Whatever the soldiers are off doing, respect them, love them, support them, honor them even, but don't for a second think that our soldiers are now or have ever or ever will doing all the work of freedom and independence that is necessary.  All the great wars in our American history are certainly steps in the right direction, at least insofar as they point to a better world, but there still remain more slaves in our world today than the total number of slaves throughout the slavery era.

What am I really getting at here?  Well, I want you to understand that while our soldiers may be risking their lives for something that we approve of, they are not doing what Jesus, the source or model of love (depending on what we believe), asks us to do or set out for us to follow.  Love is not about risking one's life but putting it on the line.  Think of your life as a gambling chip, the most valuable gambling chip there is.  When you put your life on the table as part of the stakes it is only a rare and courageous, and stupid, person who would call your bet.

Saturday's chase just made clear something that has been true along: on this trip I have basically said that my life is important, and as such I am putting it down for the 27 million slaves in the world.  I haven't been putting myself in the way of bullets or swords or ninja stars, I have simply put my life on the table so that others may see how special the sheep in my care are.  Of course, I'm not arrogant enough to think that there are 27 million lives in my care and my care alone, but they are sheep in my care nonetheless.  For them I have laid my life in the gate to protect my fold by taking to the task the physical limits of the human body, all the natural elements, and other unknown dangers like wild hyenas.

There are many ways to lay your life down in love.  Now that I have really experienced doing so myself I see how important it really is.  We can still benefit and help others from a distance but it is not real love.  Real love is putting your life on the line, knowing that perhaps you may have to deal with a hyena, but more than likely all the predators will see you in the way of their next meal and walk away.  Make this world's predators walk away by putting your life down for the 27 million slaves.  You don't need to go to a battlefield, you don't need to celebrate a false independence, you don't need to be in real serious danger.  All you need to do is put your life on the table, put your life in the middle of a predator and the sheep, and say the historic words, "Here I stand; I can do no other.  God help me.  Amen."