Is
this what was meant by "the curse?"
We
trudged slowly up the muddy path to the top of Merbach
Hill. The path was narrow, only wide enough for
one person, and at places that was a squeeze. Deep
mud squished around our hiking shoes, and threatened
to snatch them off our feet. Either side of the
trail was hedged by the painful combination of blackberry
thorns, holly, and stinging nettles. This was a
vacation.
Over the course of two weeks we walked the Wye Valley,
from central Wales across the English border, and
at last, back into Wales to the mouth of the River
Wye, as it emptied into the Severn on the southern
edge of Wales. We walked a hundred miles, and paddled
down river for 30 more.
We
walked among sheep and castles. Fields were filled
with small daisies and buttercups, and the forests
were touched by the tint of bluebells. The cloudy
skies would break up to unmask the warm sun, and
then move darkly over our heads again to drizzle
gentle refreshing rains. Tight forest paths among
conifers would give way to ancient oaks acting as
sentinels in open fields with river views. High
hills would break above the tree line to reveal
a checkerboard of pastures and farms below. Water
noisily ran everywhere we walked, and the birds
chattered endlessly. This was Wales: wild and old,
dotted with ancient castles, and homey villages,
and friendly people.
It
was a lovely trip, but certainly an adventure, and
Merbach Hill was the peak of the adventure. Even
in this incredible beauty, there was evidence that
all was not perfect. We trudged and stomped through
the mud and nettles of Merbach Hill. I slipped,
and even now a couple weeks later bear the last
remaining shadows of the blackberry, holly, and
nettles which I fell into. This must be what was
established by God's curse upon the ground which
Adam was left to toil.
The
narrow path finally gave way to a wider walk, and
we crested Merbach Hill. I stopped and sang a hymn
to God. I lifted my voice (and my bloody hand and
wrist as well) in thanks to God. As I did a gentle,
refreshing breeze broke the heat and sweat, as it
blew over the Hill to us.
Yes,
the curse upon creation still is evident, even in
the most beautiful places. Man's disobedience to
God still carries a sting down through the ages.
Yet, I am thankful that there is a breeze of God's
goodness, which gently blows and refreshes my soul.
The
nettles stung for a couple hours more, but the gentle
breeze blew the rest of that day. The last few scars
of my slip into the blackberry, and holly thorns
are disappearing even now, but the same cool breeze
can be heard to be blowing among the maple trees
in my yard, 3,000 miles away from Merbach Hill.
The curse may still be evident, but the refreshing
goodness of God lasts far longer.
