The burden was just too much....
It started out as a simple Bible Study at a summer camp. The children were not listening. Even my thought-provoking and open-ended questions seemed to have no effect. They were BORED, and not the least hesitant to show it. These were the same children who, an hour before, were hooting and hollering at breakfast. You could not calm them down. Now, blank faces, empty stares, not a peep.
Looking around, I saw the large cross that was at the campfire site. It was made out of 6-8" logs, tied and bolted together to form a cross some 8 feet high and 4 foot across. It was made to be removable, used for processions, etc. An idea started forming. (Now keep in mind that many of my ideas are just not very good or wise ones....you'll see what I mean later in the story!)
A cross; talking about the walk toward Golgotha. Add them together and I finally had something I could try.
So, I summed up the stuff I was talking about, went over and picked up this cross and hoisted it on my shoulder. I remember thinking that this thing was a bit heavy, and a bit uncomfortable. (I mean, I can carry the cross just like everyone else, just don't make it too difficult God!)
I started walking with this thing of logs on my shoulders. My intention was to only walk to the edge of the field (some 350 yards) and then stop and talk with them about it. No so! I got to the edge of the field, and the kids were goofing off and just being kids. So...here I go a bit further carrying this thing.
Before I knew it, I was at the entrance to the camp. This was the stopping point, right? I was sweating and getting mighty uncomfortable. The logs were sawing a groove in my shoulder at this point. Yet, I looked at the kids and saw that they thought this was great fun, watching their camp counselor carrying this thing around. They just didn't get the point. (Actually, it was I that wasn't getting the point, as you will see.)
Out the entrance of the camp, onto hard road-top. I thought that the many bumps and dips in the field were bad, but the road gave a continuous vibration through the logs. This was worse than the occational nudge or dip. This was like being massaged with a splintered tree, but not so comfortable. I had to start switching shoulders fairly frequently. My legs told my brain that in no uncertain terms, this punishment would have to stop soon. My arms were not too far behind.
So here the intrepid (stupid) camp counselor and his motley bunch of campers (oh ya, a pastor was there with us too.) were going up and down on a road that led further and further away from the camp.
I knew there was a cemetary where we would sometimes bring the kids to do Bible Study, but that sucker was a good 1 1/2 miles on this hilly and unforgiving road. Surely, one of the kids would get it, and say, with humilty and a deep appreciation for the moment, "No Steve, let me take that cross from you and carry it for a while!" Ha! No such thing. I was determined that I would rather kill myself slowly than tell them that they should offer to take the cross from me. (Yes, I was deluded.)
After about 1/2 mile, up a hill and down one, my arms and legs were very sore. However, the pain of the cross on my shoulder far surpassed these small pains. When I switched shoulders, I would touch the place where the log was and almost expected to see blood seep through my t-shirt. It was raw. It was hurting. (Come on Guys, someone take this cross from me, or tell me to stop!)
Another 1/2 mile and my eyes could no longer focus correctly. Everything was kind of blurred. My nose was not constantly running. Lines of snot were forming down my face, and a persistent need to sniffle accompanied me.
I had to start focusing on each step at that point. When you are walking there is a transfer of balance between one foot and the other. Usually it is automatic. However, each time I took pressure off my back foot, I felt a tinge of uncertainty, of lack of balance, and the real possibility of falling with this heavy cross on top of me. Soon, nothing existed outside of me, except for the motion, balance, feeling of each step being placed in front of the other.
Very quickly, the sight of my own feet blurred too. Now, I had to go by feel alone. I couldn't focus on the road. I didn't know if I was stepping on road, on gravel, on whatever. I tried to raise my head up, and found my shoulder muscles had locked with my head in the down position. My mind was disengaged though. I didn't think anything about it at this point. Just an observation. "Gosh, I can't move my head up. Isn't that interesting?"
The last hill before the cemetery came up. Twinges and what felt like electric shocks went through my shoulders and arm now. Things in my skeleton felt like they were shifting in ways that they were not meant to shift. Even my hearing started playing tricks on me now. Sounds would be clear, then suddenly sound like they were underwater or distant, then clear up again. There was also an edge of blackness at the very corner of my vision, streaked with afterimages and exploding phosphors.
I have a fairly good memory, but the next part I had to piece together from the pastor and some of the campers. I really don't have a memory until I woke up later....
Apparently, this procession arrived at the cemetery, or right outside of it, before I collapsed. The pastor told me later that there was a groan, and I went down. Then, a couple of the campers took the cross off of me (though they could have done this long before I collapsed!) and I was partially dragged into the cemetary and put on a concrete bench.
I remember finding myself on that bench. I was crying. It couldn't be helped. There was just a great sense of relief that I didn't have to carry that ******* cross anymore. Things like words, and making sense with them, weren't available to me yet. Luckily, the pastor jumped in and started talking about the walk to Gogotha, what Jesus went through, etc. I didn't catch most of it. I was still trying to find meaning in concepts like breathing, sitting, seeing and hearing again. I know at some point that I gave my 2 cents worth into the conversation, but I have not idea what I said.
Somehow, word got back to camp that I was doing this stupid thing, and one of the maintenance trucks pulled in and I got a ride back to the camp, the cross in the back of the truck.
The aftermath:
The kids didn't get the point. I didn't get the point that the kids wouldn't get the point. Subtlety is lost on Junior High kids. Wisdom is lost on a (this) camp counselor.
After laying down in the staff cabin for about two hours, the director called me into his office. He asked me to explain the reasoning behind carrying a cross, out of the camp, to the cemetary, taking more time in Bible Study that the campers had (they were very late for lunch), and putting a counselor (me) out of commission for an afternoon (which had to be covered by other staff!)
I thought about it, and tried to explain my reasoning, only then realizing that that reasoning was faulty. He had good points, and I had no points. After telling me to never, ever, ever do that again, or else...I was let go to sleep some more before dinner.
The next day, the kids paid more attention during Bible Study. It was nothing that I did to change that. I knew later that the pastor asked them to pay more attention and to be more involved.
The pastor did thank me for a wonderful week (though I have no idea if that extra twinkle in his eyes was because he had witnessed a grown man make a fool of himself to make a stupid point in Bible Study, or not.
The moral is: don't carry a cross just to make a point!
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