Newness at The Archery Range

When I began this series of Lenten Musings, I began with some questions about newness: “How do we encounter newness in the everyday? What does it look or feel like?”

This past Monday evening I experienced one of those “fish out of water” kinds of newness. I took my oldest son to a Cub Scout event at an archery range. I didn’t know what to expect. His dad took him last year and said it was like a bowling alley except for archery. The description was not too off target, to use an appropriate metaphor.

My son’s fellow scouts were lined up facing a wall of targets, taking turns at shooting and then collecting the arrows. Parents or grandparents (mostly dads and granddads) shepherded them along. After standing around looking like a sheep without a shepherd, a scout leader found a left-handed bow for Thomas and then proceeded to guide him through the motions for almost an hour.  My son’s arrows all dove to the floor with a clank, I’m sorry to say.

I had my other to kids to attend to so I checked in on the “aim and shoot” just a little. I felt quite out of sorts, like an arrow that completely missed the bull’s eye. I wandered about, noticing the posters advertising archery equipment on the wall. I read faded newspaper clippings on the bulletin board that listed awards for best antlers (or something like that). I took Miriam to use the “rustic” looking bathroom.

Sometimes newness is feeling like one of those lonely arrows Thomas let go, on the floor, far off from the others, waiting to be picked up. It can be quite uncomfortable. A recently deceased colleague in ministry preached often that the gospel both “comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable.” In our heads we know that we won’t always be comfortable, yet the fear of newness in our hearts often prevents us from branching out. At least that has been my experience.

As I meandered around the lobby at the range, I thought of symphony concerts. I thought of Christian worship in the liturgical tradition. Comforting for me, yes, but perhaps a momentary affliction for those who don’t regularly frequent such settings, especially if they clap between symphonic movements or stand at the wrong time.

I am grateful for those times to be with people who “get me,” but the evening at the range reminded me of how it feels to be stretched. It’s those challenging, uncomfortable moments that bring awareness and focus. I don’t plan on taking up archery anytime soon, but I left with a glimpse into another world of sorts. And if I do decide to take up archery, at least I know where to practice.