A couple of miles or so from our place in New Hampshire, the Appalachian Trail crosses the road and ascends from one mountain to another. I’ve had scores of occasions to take the 8-mile hike from the wetlands near the road up to the ledges -- an outcropping of granite on the side of Moose Mountain. From there you can see some of the hills, valleys and lakes that stretch out from the Appalachian mountain range. At times the hike seems more like a stroll, and at other times it’s more grueling. The flat portions of the trail are restful, peaceful, pastoral, and almost meditative, during which the sights, sounds and smells of the wild lift your senses. Climbing the steep slopes of the mountain is another matter. The going is hard and all you notice is your own labored breathing, pounding heart rate, and straining muscles. Those upward climbs seem to go on far longer than they should and you can see only a few yards ahead. You stretch and strain -- not knowing whether you’ll reach the ledges or if, in fact, you really want to. Sometimes you have impulses to give up and turn around. When you finally reach the pinnacle, and are able to climb out to the ledge clearings, you can see a vast expanse outstretched beneath you. You get the satisfaction of catching a glimpse of the big picture and your position in the broader scheme of things. You see where you’ve been and where you’re going as you scan the path behind and ahead of you. It’s inspiring, and well worth the hike.
I've long felt that the Christian journey is like a life-long hike through the mountains. There are stretches that seem effortless and, whether or not you can see very far in front or behind, life is pleasant, constant, unchanging, and even tranquil. Some might want those times of sameness to go on forever, and others might find them boring. That's often, largely, a matter of temperament. Then there are stretches that seem grueling -- climbs that seem interminable and precarious. Circumstances arise or challenges of life and ministry that call upon every ounce of faith and spiritual sinew that you've been given. You can feel exhausted and yet the demands go on and on. You might be able only to feel your own pain and weakness. You might just want to give up and turn back. You might not be able to see where it’s all going and, indeed, you might just feel that your hope that it has a purpose isn't real and that the destination isn't really there at all. Then you come to a clearing, and God gives you a glimpse of the big picture, where you actually sense your place in the grand scheme of God's plan or at least one part of it. You pause to take it in and eventually return to the trail -- compelled to proceed to the next leg of your journey.
Lent is intended to be time set aside to intentionally reflect upon life’s journey. It’s meant to be something of a clearing time to get a glimpse of the big picture and our place in the scheme of things from a God’s-eye vantage point. One objective of Lent is to take a prayerful breather to look at our path from God’s point of view – to notice where we’ve been, where we’ve come from, where we are now, and where God might be guiding us forward. Depending upon your own, personal experience at this point, the pause to look out from the Lenten clearing may be at a grueling time in your life or life may be peaceful; either way, taking the time to take in the view is important for moving on with God.
That's true for individuals and for churches as well. Churches like St. Paul’s are also engaged in a spiritual journey. That journey, too, lasts the life of the church. It has flat stretches that seem peaceful, comforting, and tranquil. For some those times of changeless tranquility are cherished and seen as the very goal and purpose of church -- to bring personal comfort and to remain unperturbed by the changes that assault us in the rest of life. For others those times can seem boring and they yearn for change. The level times inevitably give way to steep climbs, though, either because of difficult circumstances or God's challenging calls to mission and ministry; we don't know if we'll have the stamina or the resources to fulfill those calls. They can overwhelm and exhaust, but also hold out hope that we might scale the peaks to see the greater purposes of God unfold.
St. Paul’s is one of those churches, which have, historically, said, "yes" to God's upward invitation to climb to the heights, again and again. Not like some day tripper, but like a backpacker committed to hike the full length of the Appalachian chain, St. Paul’s has scaled one hill after another following God's callings. It can be an awesome climb, and may sometimes seem to take all our energy and strength -- with all of us working together. Our calling is to continue to follow what the author of the Letter to the Hebrews calls, "the pathfinder and trailblazer of our faith", Jesus Christ. He’s the one, who said, "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden." This is His call to us -- to climb in order to more visibly shine God's light so that it may be seen by as many people as possible so that they, in turn, will come and follow Him. Let's trust God with all our heart, serve Him, and scale the heights!
Affectionately in Christ,
Phil +