The Peak

I grew up in the shadow of Pikes Peak in Colorado Springs, CO, and woke up every day with it in full view from my house.  As a kid, I usually took for granted that it was always there, looming high above all the other mountains around it.  

But there were some days when I would actually see it, study it, marvel at it, and be grateful for it in my own way. 

On clear days, you could sometimes catch the flash of the sun's reflection on cars driving up the Peak.  The high altitude and cloudless days offered a kind of other-worldly visibility that never ceased to amaze me. 

When I was twelve, our church youth group organized a hiking trip for middle and high school students to hike up from the base of Pikes Peak to the summit.  My buddy David and I were the youngest members of the group.  

We needed water, food for snacks, and sense.  I'm still shocked that our youth director even let us out of the church van.  

But we made it to the summit in a little over six hours. When thirsty, we drank from streams, which probably made David sick and nearly unable to walk the last few hundred yards to the summit.  

It was August, but a blizzard hit the Peak and pelted us with snow and high winds.  We found out later that some group members had to be rescued by rangers because they got trapped in a shelter in the thick of the storm. 

We also had no jackets. This is a True Gen-X hardship story, folks. We drank from garden hoses, didn't wear bike helmets, fixed our own after-school snacks, and didn't take jackets to hike up a 14-foot-high mountain.  

Thankfully, one of the high schoolers from our group caught up to us and had to carry David on his back for the last push to the summit. But we made it to the top somehow. 

I've been back to Colorado Springs many times since that day, and now, as an adult, I look at Pikes Peak differently than I did as a boy.  In fact, this past summer, I got a good look at it as I passed through "The Springs" on my way to Denver.  

The first thing I thought was, "I climbed that mountain!" I was proud of my twelve-year-old self for accomplishing such an incredible feat.  

Then I thought, "What the hell was I thinking?  Where were the adults?  Who in their right mind lets a couple of kids do such a thing?" I thought about my own boys and whether I would let them try such a thing and realized I wouldn't in a million years.  

The only way I would have allowed them to hike up Pikes Peak was if they were with an experienced guide and loaded backpacks filled with water, energy bars, beef jerky, a jacket, gloves, and a hat.  They would also have to take their cell phones in case of an emergency.  

To be fair, my parents needed to be fully aware of the scope of the hike when they let me go. They would have at least had me take a canteen if they had known. 

Those were different times, and we Gen-Xers typically wear those kinds of stories like a badge of honor---even as we wrap our own kids in bubble wrap, so to speak, to keep them from getting bruised by the world. 

If someone had sat David and me down and explained everything we would face as we trudged up a mountain for over six hours, we may not have done it. I can guarantee our parents would not have let us either. 

But then I wouldn't have this story to tell, and I wouldn't be able to look at Pikes Peak and think about the climb and how it felt to reach the summit.  

Sometimes, we wonder why God seemingly allows us to endure hardship or struggle.  We may even become bitter that God didn't intervene or spare us from what we've experienced.  I know I've had some pretty hard conversations with God over this. 

First, I don't believe for a minute that God intentionally puts us on a path that leads to pain.  We do that pretty well ourselves without God's help.  But I also believe it's a good thing God doesn't give us all the information.  

If we knew everything that was going to happen, we might decide not to move forward in a direction that could be filled with hardship and pain.  Instead, we would opt for safety, security, and a pain-free existence.  

And then we would miss out on the climb.  We would never be able to tell the story of how we endured.  We could not see the mountain later and say, "I climbed that."  

May you be blissfully ignorant of the hardships you may face as you journey the trails of life.  May you keep climbing anyway, no matter what you encounter.  May you know that God is with you every step you take.  

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forever. Amen.