There’s a story I was once told of a Native American tribe who had a particular maturity ritual, through which ever young man must pass before he was considered to be mature.
At a certain age the young boy’s father would take him on a trip. A journey on unfamiliar paths, deeper into the forest than the boy has ever been permitted to venture before. Eventually the boy and his father would reach a particular clearing, just as the light was failing and darkness was beginning to fall. The father would tell his son to sit down with him under a tree because he had something to tell him.
Then the father would explain that this was the day of his greatest testing, more than his skills on a wild pony, his skills at tracking, or his accuracy with the bow. The boy must spend the night here in this clearing, this place of testing, alone. He must stay for the whole night, and in the morning his father would return for either a brave young man or a very frightened little boy.
Throughout the night, as the story goes, the boy would hear various sounds, some that he was all too familiar with as small animals like the rabbit and other small nocturnal animals foraged around for food, in the relative safety of the darkness. He may be startled by the unexpected hoot of an owl as his tired and exhausted eyes began to close in sleep. But then there would be other sounds like a bear busting through the undergrowth, or the snarl of a mountain lion, as they sought out their evening meal.
Bit by bit the long night would pass through the deepest inky darkness when he couldn’t even see the friendly stars above because of the trees standing dark an silent. He would think of his father and mother back home and the comfort his brothers and sisters were experiencing. Then he would return to his test and with renewed zeal and determination resolve to pass this test and become a true son of his father.
As the night passed and the weakest of light would begin to lighten the darkness the young man’s eyes would perhaps play tricks on him as his mind tried to make sense of various strange shapes, some that seemed to move others that most definitely did. Perhaps a timid deer unaware of his presence, having an early morning graze on the dewy grass or a skunk making his way home after a nights hunting.
Now the light is stronger and the young man’s eyes see something across the clearing, under a tree. The shape seems familiar, but the young man will probably dismiss this as another trick of the eye. As dawn finally breaks and the morning light chases away the darkness, finally the young man can see clearly the shape under the other tree. It’s his father, who has sat there without a word all night to make sure nothing could attack this would be young warrior. Yes he left and went away, but in the darkness a loving father had returned and kept the long vigil with his beloved boy, now a man.
What rejoicing there would be, as the two men returned to the camp, so that the father could say this is my beloved son in whom I’m well pleased.
Just a thought, but have you like me, been led by Father into the clearing of testing, will we arise in the dawning day a warrior brave or remain fearful and immature, missing our destiny.
Face the fears and do it anyway. He’s still watching over us and He loves you and me so very much.
