In the winter of 1982, my life was saved by a pony. But Skookum wasn’t an ordinary pony; he was a Belgium with a personality as large as the mountain he rescued me from.
I hadn’t told anyone I was hiking up the mountain unaccompanied, not that anyone would have cared anyway. In those days I was quite alone, except for Skookum, who was quite determined to be my constant companion. The feeling was mutual; I loved my playful, four-legged friend.
I eagerly started most mornings with Skookum’s slobbery kisses, and his huge nose rooting deeply into my coat pocket to retrieve his daily snack (Snickers® bars were his absolute favorite). The two of us would then go about our day together; he rarely left my side when I was outdoors.
On that particular day, though, I was feeling as bleak and cold as the weather and longed for complete solitude, which was my most cherished endowment next to Skookum’s companionship. Life, at that time, had given me cause to agree with the German philosopher Schopenhauer: “A man can be himself only so long as he is alone; and if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free.”¹ Since entering into relationship with my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I no longer agree with that statement, nor read philosophy, but on that dreary winter afternoon so long ago, the statement captured my inner thoughts well.
It was with that mindset that I headed up the mountain to briefly escape the hostile world. I knew that it wasn’t wise to go off alone, especially at that late hour, but I really didn’t care; the mountain was normally a peaceful sanctum and I longed to retreat to its isolation. Skookum knew the mountain well, but even he would have interfered with the silent seclusion I desired to immerse myself in. Thus, I slipped by his ever watchful eye and began my ascent.
Though I was deep in thought, I hadn’t been careless. Making sure to stay on the really old, well-worn paths, I deliberately marked the landscape as I went. Unfortunately, the possibility of snow had not occurred to me until it was too late. The mountain was quickly blanketed until nothing looked familiar and I could no longer find the paths.
As I searched frantically for some recognizable landmark, the chilling yelps of coyotes began to close in on me. More alarmingly, fresh tracks indicated their close proximity. Normally, coyotes eat smaller prey, but they had gone after the horses several times so I certainly had reason to fear. It wasn’t that I was afraid to die – I just didn’t want to die as the main course for a coyote pack.
By this time I was completely lost and unsure of what to do. Dusk had already begun to obscure what little sunlight there had been and soon I would be stranded alone on the mountain, in the dark, surrounded by coyotes. If ever there was a time to regret my reclusiveness, it was certainly then.
Just when I felt that all hope was lost, Skookum showed up. I was certain that his snorting and stamping was as much a scornful rebuke as it was a warning of the encroaching danger, which was getting closer by the minute. He turned to my left and headed off with a slower than normal gait, turning ever so often to make sure I was following. My faithful companion led me to the base of the mountain before dark without harm. I was actually thankful to be back among civilization and Skookum was thankful for his reward of two Snickers® bars the next day.
After all these years, I still think about that precious pony. I sometimes think about that mountain too. In that part of the state, the mountains were mostly rocky terrain with very few trees or streams- not pretty at all. This meant that even those well-worn paths were very difficult to traverse; even a short trek up the mountain was somewhat dangerous and exhausting.
In some ways, my experience on that mountain reminds me of some of the more difficult spiritual journeys that I have faced throughout the years. I don’t know about you, but there have been times when I have found myself in a very bleak and desolate place, feeling very downcast and alone. Like my buddy Skookum, the Lord was right there wanting to shower His love on me and guide me through the difficult terrain, but I hadn’t yet allowed Him too.
Consequently, in trying to conquer my ‘mountain’ alone, it wasn’t long until it seemed my problems were closing-in on me, ready to devour. But just when I felt all hope was gone, the Lord (who was there all along) reminded me that He is our refuge and strength a very present help in the time of trouble, therefore we will not fear (Psalms 46:1, 2). He also reminded me that He longs to walk every step of life’s journey with us- especially the difficult ones, if only we will let Him.
Dear reader, you and I will undoubtedly have many difficult mountains to traverse in this life, and the terrain may be difficult and exhausting, but we never have to go them alone! Beyond that, the Lord has made the paths very easy to find. The prophet Jeremiah wrote: Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls (6:16). And remember, the Lord leads us on those paths (Psalm 23).
No offense to Mr. Schopenhauer, but it is not when a man is alone that he is really free; it is only when a man walks with God that he is truly free!
¹ Schopenhauer, Arthur R. Essays and Aphorisms. Penguin Books, Penguin Group. New York, USA. Translation, 1970
Rays of Light 
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