As the final beams of light passed from the sun over the Atlantic Ocean, I sat in a harness soaking up the view from 60 feet in the air. Behind me towered the rock face and below waited a forest of fresh adventure. Here, everything bears a resemblance for me, but the differences cause this life to be but a shadow of what I have known until now. These tall, green vegetations that fill the forest are easily recognizable to me as trees, but every one is tainted with a sense of the exotic. These plentiful green sprouts that expand out from the brown arms I know as leaves, but they feel different, smell different, and look slightly different.
Rappelling from the top of the mountain, I could trail the coastline south for miles. Arranged in many small clusters that appealed to my worldview as towns, small homes hugged the sea as far as I could see. These simple, one level homes boasted bright orange-brown roofs descending at 45 degree angles over white cement walls. These houses, I have found, are designed to remain cool during the hot spring, summer, and fall months, but, consequently, provide little comfort in the midst of a very cold, but short, winter.
Luke and I had come to this mountain with Daniel to learn the basics of rock climbing. The first of many weekly sessions, today we were to learn the basics of knot-tying, natural anchors, and rappelling. Living on the west coast, our country boasts three mountain ranges providing ample opportunity to lead our clientele on rock climbing expeditions. By March, Luke and I are expected to be able to aid Daniel, our professional instructor, and at some point, after a few years, we may potential become instructors as well. Not only are we learning rock climbing technique from Daniel, we are learning leadership and cultivating a Biblical view of such.
As we work with businesses, churches, vacationers, and others, the draw for the adventuresome is rock climbing while the professional needs are met with leadership training. This week's homework: learn the figure 8 knot perfectly and memorize Ephesians 6:10-18.
This is the first of many updates. Unfortunately it has been difficult to really put the time into much writing this last month (Friday makes one month we've been here). I have four posts ready to go, so they should be up within the next week. Please pray that Luke and I would manage our time well and give the Lord our firstfruits!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
Winter Begets Spring
Winter seems a harsh beast, untameable. Forcibly succeeding autumn in the deep night, winter invades, covering the land with darkness. In one fell swoop she swallows up the sun with all its vitality. The howl of winter is heard for months echoing from the highest peak to the lowest valley. Her breath, a biting chill dispelling all signs of life. Woodland creatures flee to their burrows, but cannot evade the reach of her icy grip. Trees, once fruitful, are laid bare, asleep beneath sepulchres of weighty mounds of snow. Nothing escapes.
Snow covered the landscape, continuing to fall without end. I stared through the window at a bleak wall composed of millions of individual snowflakes. Sheets of pure white snow obstructed the world around me. This was just the beginning of another long, cold winter. But my winter had begun long ago. In recent months winter had looked as though spring would soon breach the horizon. But just as my Punxsutawney friend from long ago had oft aided the winter with a few last gasps, so my winter had yet delayed the coming spring.
My journey to the peak of winter had been arduous. The process continually uncertain. The trials, in their present state, seemingly unbearable. Too long had I traversed winter's dark shadow. As I walked the same trails and traveled the all too familiar valleys the shadows deepened. The mountain tops seemed higher, every day farther from my reach. For months, I yearned for the sun to shine again. Frozen in an endless winter, I searched the tundra for the meaning of my life. I have longed for the virtue described by Aristotle; virtue to discover and serve the purpose for which I had been created.
Perhaps, winter may not be so decadent as my surroundings suggest. Perhaps, the perceived deadness is, in reality, expectant life dwelling in dormant mystery. Perhaps, comparable to a season of life, winter appears cruel and destructive, but, rather, is pregnant vitality ready to emerge. Just maybe winter is not an agent of misery, but an agent of change. The difficult, painful change that brings forth new life from the womb. Perhaps, winter is a time of reflection and renewal in preparation for a fresh, colorful spring.
The white wall still fell outside my window. Not a bleak, perilous wall. But the last garrisons to fall before the rebuilding of a more glorious city. The walls fell faster. Gravity pulled me deeper into the seat. My body soon lifted as the speeding walls coalesced to appear a white fog. The mechanical drone of the landing gear now ceased. As the plane emerged from the clouds I knew that spring had returned to my life. The sun shone brightly, a banner overlooking the clear blue sky. Light poured into the cabin. Virtue awaited.
Snow covered the landscape, continuing to fall without end. I stared through the window at a bleak wall composed of millions of individual snowflakes. Sheets of pure white snow obstructed the world around me. This was just the beginning of another long, cold winter. But my winter had begun long ago. In recent months winter had looked as though spring would soon breach the horizon. But just as my Punxsutawney friend from long ago had oft aided the winter with a few last gasps, so my winter had yet delayed the coming spring.
My journey to the peak of winter had been arduous. The process continually uncertain. The trials, in their present state, seemingly unbearable. Too long had I traversed winter's dark shadow. As I walked the same trails and traveled the all too familiar valleys the shadows deepened. The mountain tops seemed higher, every day farther from my reach. For months, I yearned for the sun to shine again. Frozen in an endless winter, I searched the tundra for the meaning of my life. I have longed for the virtue described by Aristotle; virtue to discover and serve the purpose for which I had been created.
Perhaps, winter may not be so decadent as my surroundings suggest. Perhaps, the perceived deadness is, in reality, expectant life dwelling in dormant mystery. Perhaps, comparable to a season of life, winter appears cruel and destructive, but, rather, is pregnant vitality ready to emerge. Just maybe winter is not an agent of misery, but an agent of change. The difficult, painful change that brings forth new life from the womb. Perhaps, winter is a time of reflection and renewal in preparation for a fresh, colorful spring.
The white wall still fell outside my window. Not a bleak, perilous wall. But the last garrisons to fall before the rebuilding of a more glorious city. The walls fell faster. Gravity pulled me deeper into the seat. My body soon lifted as the speeding walls coalesced to appear a white fog. The mechanical drone of the landing gear now ceased. As the plane emerged from the clouds I knew that spring had returned to my life. The sun shone brightly, a banner overlooking the clear blue sky. Light poured into the cabin. Virtue awaited.
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