Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Tidbits
Sometimes I miss being a reporter.
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I promised I would not blog again until I could write about something cheerful and lighthearted. Life is full of amazing people and wonderful little moments and unspeakable blessing... and yet my blog entries are so weepy and whiny. My episodes of introspection always seem to come during the gloomy times.
I planned months ahead to get this weekend off. I work Saturdays and it's hard to find a sub, but I was determined to get in one more backpacking trip before the mountains get to chilly, so I grabbed the one weekend available in September and planned what looked like an amazing trek to Maria Lakes and Mount Lyell. Then I got sick.
Sooo... I was tempted to feel a little weepy and whiny. Instead, I laughed at myself.
I laughed because I was so disappointed that I was going to be forced to sleep in a comfortable bed all weekend, instead of on the hard ground. I was going to spend my evenings curled up on the couch with a cup of tea enjoying a movie instead of freezing to death trying to clean my contacts outside with a Nalgene full of icy water, and shredding my fingers attempting to open bear canisters so I could get to dinner. I was going to enjoy relaxing hot meals instead of half-cooked instant noodles and trail mix.
I'm not so bad off I suppose!
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I missed church today, due to a stubborn hacking cough that refused to be soothed with throat drops. Ours is a casual and unpretentious church, but a seal barking in the middle of service would be distracting, and hence, so would I be.
Instead, I read my Bible and got a little farther along in the book "In Two Minds" by Os Guinness. It's interesting and relevant to me right now. It's a long book, but if I ever finish it, look for a review. :)
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I Lift My Eyes to the Hills, part 3
Mom went yardsaling last weekend and came home with a treadmill. I think something is wrong with the belt, because it makes the most terrifyingly obnoxious noise when you turn it on – somewhat akin to a roller coaster ascending a hill. We have a backpacking trip coming up next weekend so I use it anyway. And I can’t really complain because it was free!
While jogging along amid the clamor this morning, I tried to imagine myself surrounded by the breathtaking views and intoxicating air of the Sierras instead of the musty, dusty darkness of our garage. Birds chirping instead of treadmills clacking and all that.
There are many obvious parallels between a mountaineering trip and the Christian life. There is the narrow path, sometimes hard to see and difficult to follow, but so vital. Straying from that path could easily mean death.
There is the goal. The prize. It waits up there for you, beckoning you on, motivating you to keep toiling through the difficult parts of the journey.
There is the path itself that sometimes seems to take you directly away from where you want to be.
There is the view of the summit, which sometimes seems so close and so easy to reach… and then you round a corner only to find that layer upon layer of hills and valleys between you and your goal.
There are the stretches of trail along the way that seem almost insurmountable – simply too difficult, too tiring. But there, in the middle of the wilderness, you really have no choice. You begin to find out that you have strength and stamina beyond your expectations, and when pushed to the limit, you can achieve things you never imagined.
And then there is the summit itself - ALWAYS worth every drop of sweat, every blister and aching muscle – no matter how difficult the journey to get there. Not only is the beauty overwhelming and breathtaking and goosebump-inspiring, but all the hours of toiling are suddenly the farthest thing from your mind.
There is one other comparison that came to me that very first day when I caught the mountaineering bug. It was reinforced in the most powerful way on my first trip two years later, and it still exhilarates me on every summit. I’ve tried to write about it before, but it never comes out right; it sounds almost irreverent – but irreverence is truly the opposite of what I intend.
Mountains teach me about fearing God. My attitude toward God is, on a much grander scale, the same as my attitude toward mountains.
I used to be confused when the Bible talked about fear. Aren’t we supposed to love God? Even as our father? Isn’t He our comforter, our refuge, our stronghold? Where does fear fit into that? You don’t run to that which you fear, do you?
Yet there is a kind of fear that draws you in. The kind that leaves you on the edge of your seat, breathless. It is closer to awe and amazement than to the kind of fear that pushes you away. You want to get near it but you don’t feel worthy or able. Once you do get near it – once you taste a little bit of it – you are addicted. You can’t get enough of it.
It is mysterious. You never get to the end of it. You could spend your whole life exploring it and trying to wrap your mind around it... and you would never succeed, but the attempt would be more than worth the effort.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Trials
People ask me "What did you learn from that trial?" I don't know how to answer. I don't know what I was supposed to learn.
I wish I did. I tried to find out. I begged God to show me. For a year I waited on Him to reveal what He was doing back in that dark tunnel I walked through. It would have made the suffering so much more tolerable, to be able to point at something specific that I learned because of it.
But God doesn't always grant us that insight.
So we just look up and press on.
Monday, September 1, 2008
I wish I could write like this...
I will go the distance and back for more if you just say the word
You will come alive again and call the trying times your friend
The pain that you have suffered through will never get the best of you
You will hope in something real that won’t depend on how you feel
When you call my name then I will answer, answer
I am on your side though the wind and waves beat against your faith
You were on my mind when the world was made
Trust in me my child, Trust in me my child
Walk out on the water where you have no control
So scared to death of failure you sacrifice your soul, please let that go
You have climbed an uphill road, You have worn a heavy load
You have cried through endless nights and nearly given up the fight
Watched your dreams like falling stars the heartaches made you who you are
Now looking back you see that I have always been there
Where you gonna hide? Where you gonna hide from Me?
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go that I can’t see?
I have heard you cry and it breaks my heart for I love you so
I would never lie, this is not the end there is still a hope
Kendall Payne