I heard a sermon recently that brought me back to both of them.
In the sermon, the pastor told a story about the Swiss Alps. Apparently, large groups of people can climb the Swiss Alps together. There is a chalet of sorts that meets them at the halfway point. The chalet is filled with all things comfortable: warmth, resting places, food and drink. The chalet is so stinkin' comfortable, that on average, about 25% of the group members choose not to proceed to the top of the Alps. They are satisfied with how far they have come, and the comfort has drawn them in and beckoned them to stay.
For awhile, they are content with their decision. But then, while they gaze through binoculars at their fellow group members who are high-fiving at the summit, regret begins to creep in. The realization hits that they have sacrificed their goal for a relatively cheap comfort.
As the group reunites and reaches their collective starting point, it is clear to see by the brightness of their countenance those who reached the summit and those who tarried by comfort's side.
The reason this story struck a chord with me is because it flat out convicted me.
Like I mentioned earlier, I have been on two mountains in my entire life.
The first one was Flat Top, located in Anchorage. Flat Top, true to its name, has a - wait for it - flat top. In the spring and summer months, once the snow has melted away, it is possible to hike all the way to the top without gear.
One day when my mom and stepdad had recently moved there and my brother and I were home for the summer, the four of us decided to "go on a little hike". Or so I thought.
It wasn't long into the "hike" when I realized - I was not cut out for that business. I muttered, I sputtered, I thought constantly of turning around. As we inched our way past tiny pathways and steep climbs, I agonized.
However, to those that I was with, turning around was not an option. They marched forward and by right of my own pride, I followed. It was one of the toughest things, physically, that I have ever done.
But when the four of us sat atop the summit and gazed victoriously over Anchorage, the sense of accomplishment was surreal. My legs might still have shaken the whole way back down and then been sore for days afterwards, but that couldn't take away from the fact that I had done it. I had done it when I literally thought over and over and over that there was no way I could.
The second mountain that I found myself on was Table Mountain in Cape Town, South Africa. Renowned for its beauty, Table Mountain offers one of the most beautiful views in the world. The higher up you go, the more rewarding the beauty you behold.
There was a whole crew of us visiting Table Mountain, enjoying a day of rest in the midst of a missions trip. You can get about halfway up Table Mountain by hiking or driving, but in order to get to the summit, you have to take a cable car. In order to take the cable car, you have to pay about $10.
Not really that steep of a cost to see such an amazing view.
However, on this particular day, I was tired. I was tired AND I felt poor. I was tired and I felt poor AND I had friends with me that also weren't really desiring to pay the price and take the ride.
About 5 of us opted out that day in order to head back to our hostel and unwind with a good book. At the time it felt like the right decision. But about the time I started seeing everyone else's photos of that day, the regret started to seep in. This is what I missed that day:
When I think back about the two mountains that I have been on, I look back on one with joy and a victorious feeling; I look back on the other with regret because I know that I took the easy and comfortable way out.
There are few guarantees in life, but it is almost certain that we will all face metaphorical mountains at various times.
I know I've faced a few.
Comparing my experiences on these two remarkable mountains and applying them to the metaphorical mountains, I see several real life applications.
1. When climbing a mountain - especially one you are unprepared for - it is detrimental to have others alongside you spurring you on. At times, they may need to simply encourage; at other times, they may have to inspire you by climbing themselves. At the worst times, they may need to literally push your butt up the mountain. They are essential to success.
2. Don't allow a mediocre cost prevent you from a magnificent view.
3. Comfort is a deceiving distraction from reaching the summit. Do not allow the allure of a cozy lodge or a good book at the hostel sway your goal to climb the mountain. Do the work and stay focused, because there are some regrets for which you won't get a second chance.
Mountains - realistically and figuratively - are exhausting, gut-wrenching, and testing.
But I understand that the view is more than worth all that trouble.
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