I went backpacking on the Appalachian Trail with my mom and two other women a few weeks ago, and I think the reason I am bringing this up now is because God reminded me this week of some valuable lessons he taught me while there (and that too often find themselves being buried beneath the events of everyday life). So I’ll just share a few of those teachable moments in hopes that you’ll understand some of them even if you haven’t hiked a day in your life:
1. Love is a lifestyle. A series of decisions we make every second of every day to choose others above ourselves. It is patient, diligent, understanding. Sometimes it takes the form of a cheerleader (YOU CAN DO IT MOM!) and a coach (ok mom, keep it together – one step at a time, one foot in front of the other!) even when the battle rages inside my own head. Love is encouraging in the midst of oncoming defeat and is concerned for the well-being of others despite personal risk. It doesn’t give up when it would be much easier to throw in the towel and it believes in others when there’s nothing left to go on. But mostly love looks with the heart and sees the heart, and we must learn to embody and emulate it.
2. Life is meant to be lived interdependent with others, in community. It is first and foremost meant to be lived completely dependent upon the Father, and consequently, meant to be lived interdependently with others. One aspect of this is echoed in the old saying “what’s mine is yours and yours is mine” (something I’ve never been very good at).
Let me provide some context: my mom has the cheap hiking poles that break easily. I have the expensive hiking poles that don’t. Whilst we are hiking, her poles decide they do not want to stay one length and when they suddenly shorten mom unintentionally leans with them causing all sorts of potential unpleasantness. So we stop, let her readjust, and proceed. Every 5 minutes. For x amount of hours. Until Jesus says to me, “Hey little one, how about you swap poles with your mother?” “Aww really? Do I have to? I really like my poles…they are comfy, sturdy, solid. And they are EXPENSIVE. What if she accidentally trips over a root and they snap in two?…But ok, next time we stop, I guess we’ll swap.” So we swap and no more pole troubles for mom, which means it’s easier and safer for her to hike.
You might be surprised, but that was a pretty big deal for me. In releasing possession of that which I valued, I acknowledged that they aren’t really “mine” in the first place and that they are to be used to help others, even at my own “expense.” That perspective is something I have known in my head for years, but have struggled to apply in my heart, and I know without a doubt that intense community – World Race style – will kick my butt in that area. It really just goes back to that first lesson – learning to love.
3. Ahead of every mountain top experience lies an uphill, and often challenging, climb. The ascent comes before the summit. The battle precedes the victory. The best view comes from the highest point, and the highest point requires the steepest slope – or the longest path. Hiking those uphills – whatever they may look like in life – causes your muscles to ache, your heart to race, your breath to quicken, your mind to doubt. But the glorious views, those victorious experiences, are undoubtedly, completely worth the struggle, worth the difficulty it took to get there. Up there on that mountain top, it is clear, calm, fresh, quiet. It’s reviving, restoring, renewing, refreshing. It offers a grand perspective over the thousands of minute details, worries, anxieties, insecurities, and doubts that plague us like pestering gnats and rob us of total peace. Jesus knew the value of the mountain. He knew its intimidating climb and sought it anyways. We want the same thing – we just have to be willing to climb.
