Judgment at New River

Summers ago when my daughters and I rafted on the New River near Beckley, West Virginia, I mentally criticized one of our guides for something he said. Days later, I realized we were sort of “in the same boat.”

My wife isn’t an outdoor person, so when our two daughters took breaks from college and high school one summer, I arranged for three-fourths of our family to try white-water rafting in West Virginia.

The three of us drove to a Beckley motel, rose early the next day and rode a bus from a ticket-buying station to the river. We donned life vests and helmets and met two other adventurers (a young man and his wife) who manned the center of our inflatable craft. Two young male guides rode the raft’s rear, and I sat behind my daughters, who planted themselves in the raft’s bow.

We paddled peacefully after entering that old and deep river at a still-water section. I admired mountain scenery and noticed railroad tracks laid along steep banks.

Numerous folksingers have crooned “I’m riding that New River train.” Those words come from “New River Train,” a song that originated, I understand, in The New River Gorge region, which produced lots of coal through the early 1900s.

Before encountering rocky, white water rapids, we enjoyed tranquil passage and listened to our main guide, a dark-haired West Virginia native, recite river facts.
During a silence, I observed a Whitetail doe pause perhaps a hundred yards ahead and to our right, enter the river and begin swimming across.

“How beautiful,” I thought. Words from one of my favorite worship choruses came to mind: “As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after Thee…” (Psalm 42:1).

I felt the doe’s entry into our idyllic scene provided icing on the cake for our near-Garden of Eden experience. Her timely appearance added flourish to an already-special display of God’s panorama. I felt thankful to be with my daughters and awed by the river and mountains.

“Look at the deer,” someone said.

From the back of the raft, our main guide, speaking in his best macho-drawl, said, “That’d sure look good in my freezer.”

“Crude!” I thought, wondering how anyone could see a lovely doe swimming a picturesque river framed by take-your-breath-away mountains and think only of appetite. How could he view such a creature and think first of his belly? His bull-in-a-China shop, caveman commentary offended me. I said nothing but judged him to be a man who mostly lived life on a physical level.

For days after our excursion, I thought about our guide’s distasteful reaction. Then, as I reveled in self-righteousness, this thought—like a heaven-born bubble ascending from the murky bottom of a deep subconscious river—floated to the surface of my mind: “How many times have you looked at person of the opposite sex and had less than spiritual thoughts?”

My puffed-up, highly inflated raft of self-righteousness struck upon the rock of that question and—swoosh!—lost all air.

This analogy hit me: a deer crosses a river, and a hunter says, “That’d look good in my freezer”; a graceful lady crosses a street, and some man muses….”

I’d fallen into the trap of thinking myself more spiritual than our deer-hunting guide, when I hadn’t shared his temptation. I hadn’t looked at that deer as dinner. I wasn’t a hunter. However, I have faced various temptations involving anger, strife, intemperance, lust and idolatry, and my initial responses to thoughts concerning “works of the flesh” haven’t always been good.

Someone said, “Temptation, unlike opportunity, doesn’t knock - it tries to kick the door in.”

No one has to search long in the trash heap of his own fallen nature to find something that puts him on a level playing field with the rest of mankind.

I believe God constantly attempts to show each of us our personal, burdensome sins - not to condemn us, but to show us we need to confess our sins and find relief by accepting his offer of forgiveness through Christ.

I believe there’s hope for the crudest of sinners. And for would-be super-sojourners, who try to think mystical thoughts while navigating life’s deep rivers, who desire to hold high “the light” and help other travelers, there is also hope - because God can even forgive self-righteousness that tends, at times, to rise in religious hearts.