E-Letters

This e-letter is written by Mark Haskins. When you meet Mark you meet a man who brings order and dignity to the environment around him. It comes as no surprise that Mark has navigated the fast track in academia to enjoy a professorship at the University of Virginia where he comes alive in the teaching pit.

The Inklings were very surprised at what we learned about Mark on a Calling Intensive with Gary Barkalow. We heard about this young cowboy who was born in Colorado and loved baseball and wanted to fly jets in the military. It was so beautiful to see his life opened to us and we now have the privilege of watching this man transition from a busy world of college erudition to a more tranquil world of contemplation, writing, and restoration of the adventure of friendship enjoyed in his cowboy years.

We Inklings are privileged to call him friend.

Confessions of a Contemporary “Mountain Man"

By Mark Haskins
Jun 23, 2009

Daily, a fourteen-inch statue greets me as I enter my office, settle at my desk, and look across to my bookshelves. I put it there. I needed to put it there. For me, it is an icon that triggers a series of important beginning-of-the day reflections and prayers. The statue is a beautiful replica of Frederic Remington’s, The Mountain Man. Remington was a contemporary and friend of Teddy Roosevelt and Buffalo Bill, equally at ease with either.¹ His life’s work was motivated by the realization that, “I knew the wild riders and the vacant land [of the West] were about to vanish forever…and the more I considered the subject, the bigger the forever loomed.”²

To the eye, the sculpture depicts the precarious descent of one of those 19th century “men with the bark on,”³ a rough, hardened man on horseback coming down the side of a steep, uneven hillside. It graphically captures the journey, dare I say the challenge, of a mountain man accustomed to living life alone and by his wits descending from his high-altitude, more familiar world. To my heart, it depicts much more.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I was born in Colorado. The Rocky Mountains take my breath away and a high-Aspen meadow must be God’s sanctuary. I also love the imagery and folklore surrounding the early 19th century West. The spirit of independence, adventure, simplicity, the pride of self reliance, conquering large distances, and the intoxication of nature’s untamed beauty all suggested by the lives of mountain men and cowboys from that era sings a siren song to me.

I have lived most of my years thinking and behaving as a modern day mountain man—self reliant and in need of no one. Professionally, that formula worked pretty well. Make a name for yourself. Blaze your own trail. Feast on what you claim, corral, and conquer. Connect with others only when they can benefit you. Personal insights, ingenuity, skills, and talents are the keys to survival and success. Such is often the creed of those driven to excel at what they do…it was certainly mine.

As a Christian, and after my salvation honeymoon, I confess to having gradually embraced the same model. One’s faith is private. Letting others know “where you are” compromises your safety and image. Share Jesus once in awhile, but only in the holy huddle of other believers. Don’t divulge any personal weaknesses, fears, or vulnerabilities. Be good, don’t mess up, keep it simple, and you’ll be secure. Don’t ask or expect much of others or of Jesus.

My Remington sculpture reminds me to come down from my lofty, proud, alone, high country. It points me to a quietly-ignored passage in Matthew 23:12 (ASV), “whosoever shall exalt himself shall be humbled and whosoever shall humble himself shall be exalted.” It urges me to not “forsake our own assembling together [and missing out on the privilege and pleasure of] exhorting one another” (Hebrews 10: 25 ASV). And, it also reminds me that my days are spent riding with my Heavenly Father who is my only sure-footed, reliable, path-knowing, load-bearing companion, protector, and the one most interested in my safe journey and my destination. I don’t know the way. I don’t have the strength. I often don’t even have the good sense to want to come down from my safe, comfortable, reclusive perch. He wants me to come down…He beckons me to come down…He offers to guide me, carry me and to get me to a place of humility, real connection with Him, sharing with others, and a life more vibrant and rich than the small one I would, left to my own tendencies, strive to craft. It is true, “…we should not trust in ourselves but in God who raiseth the dead” (II Corinthians 1: 9, ASV) and who promises to “supply every need according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4: 19 ASV).

As I re-read the preceding paragraph, it is wonderful truth and I must admit to having heard it scores of times before. However, the words mean more now. Over the past few years, and with the tough love of a Father, I have been humbled by this world. Moreover, He has shown me the illusion of control and allowed me to grow weary of trying to be in control. He has revealed to me that some of the persistent ache in my heart is due to far too much loneliness. He has lovingly exposed the fear that fuels much of my decades-long relentless drive and solo detachment. He has shown me how I have rubbed too many people the wrong way with the “rough bark” I can still wear. Being a modern day mountain man may hold episodic appeal for adventure but it no longer has any appeal as a way of life. The Remington statue reminds me of that.

One last thought…Remington died the day after Christmas, at age 48 from a ruptured appendix. In retrospect, he has been called “the supreme interpreter of the Wild West.”4 I no longer want to be a supreme anything…I do, however, want to live life humbly, honestly, with others, and in the reality of His love, His joy, His life, His peace, His accomplishments, and His presence. Thanks Father, for your patience and persistence in bringing me down from a mountain man habitat and way of life into closer fellowship with You and yours.

Endnotes 1 www.askart.com/AskART/artists/biography.aspx?searchtype=BIO&artist=5814 (accessed June 6, 2009). 2 www.tfaoi.com/aa/4aa/4aa32.htm (accessed June 11, 2009) 3 Remington, F. (1900). Men with the bark on. (Harper & Brothers, NY: NY). 4 Dippie, B. (1975). “Frederic Remington’s Wild West.” (www.americanheritage.com/articles/magazine/ah/1975/3/1975_3_6.shtml) (accessed June 6, 2009).

Note This is a slightly edited version of what was originally distributed June 19, 2009.