Gaps and Summits

Lamentations 3:19-26

 

        During the last month, when conversations concerning my bike ride across North Carolina would come up, the question I was most asked was, “Why?” That is a fair question to which I never gave the real answer. I blamed it on the person who asked me to accompany him. I told one person after all the deaths we had experienced I needed time to reflect. I told another I wanted to get away from the building program for a few days. All those were good answers but not really the whole truth. After all who gives up 7 prime golf days to ride a bicycle 470 miles unless they have a really good reason? So here is the truth. It was all about gaps and summits.

        I suspect when you drive your car to Waynesboro most of you take 151, turn left on 250 and cross the mountain at Rock Fish Gap. And you don’t give it a second thought.  We go that way because years ago someone predetermined this was the easiest way to cross the mountain. We like gaps. They provide the least resistance. As we grow older, we search out gaps to make our lives pleasant.

        Remember when you had to get up off the sofa and walk across the room to change the channel on the TV? Now we have a remote. Remember when the phone would ring and we would have to make a mad dash to kitchen. Now we just reach in our pocket, look at the name of the caller and decide if we have the time to answer it. Think of the 1,000 conveniences we have discovered which make living easier. We live in a lifestyle gap, which seems wonderful. But I have also observed, with fewer obstacles, we have more time to fill our lives with insignificant drama. Then when a real crisis arrives, we panic.

        One of the texts for today comes from the book of Jeremiah. Most of the survivors of the destruction of Jerusalem were hauled off to Babylon. The word from their leaders was, “Don’t worry.” They were only going to be in Babylon a year or two and then the Israelites would be escorted back to Jerusalem. So folks sat in their recliners, picked up their remotes or bought a few extra apps for their cell phones. Then a letter from Jeremiah arrived. The message was devastating. “Folks, you are going to be in Babylon for a long time. It is doubtful any of you will see Jerusalem again. You need to learn a trade, marry off your children, find your faith, and wait for the Lord.” The writer of Lamentations responds to this message by saying, “The thought of my affliction and homelessness destroys me. It cripples my soul.” And then he writes, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. I will move forward as I wait for the salvation of God.”

        Jeremiah knew if folks retreated to their recliners they would lose what little was left of their heritage. They would forget Jerusalem and be satisfied with Babylon. They would replace their faith with the god of the day. They would fail to teach their children about Yahweh’s covenant with Abraham. They would become Babylonians and when the chance to leave appeared, they would stay home because the road to the summit would be too hard.

        At 8:00 last Sunday my friend and I left Banner Elk N.C. with over 1,000 riders. The air was crisp and the road ahead daunting. We began with a climb that was pretty much what I had beeen doing since last March. And then we headed down. There is nothing pleasant about coming off a mountain when the temperature is trying to reach 50. My face, my toes, my very soul was frozen as we headed into the gap of mediocrity. But once we reached it, there was no easy chair to greet us. We started to climb into Boone. This is why I came. I wanted to see if I still had the will to push myself out of my comfort zone. I wanted my lungs to hurt and my legs ache until my only inspiration was my brain shouting the promise that up ahead was the summit and unless I was still  willing to strive for the summit, my life was never going to be fulfilling. We pushed forward, only to discover the climb had not really begun.

After a brief respite at the first rest stop we pressed on. Of the two of us, Bill has always been the stronger rider. On Our first ride across the state 10 years ago he literally pulled me along. I would have quit if he had not been with me.  But this day was different. I know my work on the Skyline Drive had made me stronger but over the past couple years Bill has had developed some heart issues. Each climb literally took his breath away. We would stop while he would lay over the front of his bike searching for air. Then we would continue, until the next hill arrived. At first I was angry. Bill was interrupting my dream. I wanted to rush to the summit and claim the glorious prize that lay ahead. Bill continued to try. I continued to be impatient.  I knew we would never make 60 miles at our pace.  Finally it was evident Bill could go no further. That is when an angel arrived. A woman driving an SUV from Florida was keeping tabs on two guys from Emporia.  God works in mysterious ways. It hardly mattered. A solution was right in front of me. I asked the angel if she would give my friend a ride to the next rest stop. She agreed, Bill and his bike got in the car, and I continued my journey. I pushed forward, rested by the stops, and inspired by my vision, I persevered until I reached the summit. It was 4,000 feet above sea level. I looked out on a magnificence that could only come from the imagination of God. I was elated and yet sad, for I stood by myself. What is the glory of the summit if it is achieved alone?

This is a question that goes much deeper than a bike ride shared by friends. When I was younger, I thought I knew what it took to push myself. But I was wrong. When the top going got tough, I tended to go in another direction. My first years in college were littered with more than one abandoned attempt to the summit. But then I got older, perhaps more mature, certainly more stubborn. I learned both to appreciate the pain and the glory of seeing something through to the end. But there are consequences.

Because of my meticulous journeys toward my particular theological and moral summits, I tend to lack patience with folks who travel a different path. After all, I have been to the mountain top. God has blessed me with authentic answers, at least that is what I keep telling myself. I do know my delusions can make the road to the somewhat lonely. And therein lies the problem.  Must we always walk the solitary road God places in front of us or do we occasionally suspend our goals for the life of a friend? I can make a good theological case for either choice. Jeremiah came to enjoy being a martyr. But I am not sure Jesus relished the same fate.

Perhaps the toughest element of any moral decision is how our words and actions affect the person next to us. Are we the gold standard to which others should aspire or an irritant which never heals? Perhaps we are often both.

I suspect all of us will be searching for some moral high ground over the next month. Like those folks in Babylon, we may discover our hopes and dreams might not be just around the corner. But we are still called to push forward, always striving to challenge ourselves and those on the road with us. Might I suggest you not only keep your eye on the prize but also on those riding beside you. Should they stumble, picking them up may prove more valuable than sprinting ahead. After all, what kind of victory will be achieved if we don’t get there together?                Amen.