I was twenty-two years old. My closest friend had the two of us on a “big adventure every summer” kick…Every summer, the two of us would come up with a big adventure and invite others along. We got into whitewater rafting. In the past three summers we had rafted a river in Washington State (but it had to be the one with the most Class V rapids), one in Colorado (again, had to be the one with an eight-foot drop towards the end), and one in West Virginia (the Upper Gauley, widely regarded as one of the top rivers in the world for whitewater rafting…and if I remember correctly, the river that day was on the border of being unrunnable due to the water levels. We all fell out, some of us multiple times).
We got through our whitewater rafting phase and decided that we’d try mountain climbing. The obvious first choice was the tallest peak in our home state of Washington, Mount Rainier. It is 14,411 feet tall.
For those that haven’t had the pleasure, this is what the climb is like. (It was over 20 years ago, so details may be exaggerated to enhance my image). You start at a place called Paradise, at 6,000 feet. You hike all day, and reach a place called Camp Muir, at about 10,000 feet. You eat a freeze dried dinner, and they tell you to climb into bed around 7 or 8pm, and try to fall asleep as soon as you can. Because they wake you up at 2am.
[Photo credit: http://www.sovereignsportsman.com/wounded-soldiers-take-on-mt-rainier/%5D
You strap on your headlamp, put the crampons on your boots, get your iceaxe in your hand, and you start climbing. They reason they do this is so that when you get to several of the ice bridges, they are still solid, and the snow isn’t slick from any melting.
Anyway, our group was one of the last groups to leave the camp. But our guide, emboldened by the fact that our group might be one of the first ones to make the summit that summer, pushed us pretty fast. Only about 50% of people who attempt to summit Mt. Rainier do so in a season. Anyway, we were passing other groups along the way. As we got higher, more and more people were being left behind. Not by themselves, but usually in pairs. They were told that we would get them on the way back down.
Our guide was pushing us so fast that by the time we were close to the summit, we were the first group. We sat down to rest on what I remember felt like a steep slope to get some water and a snack. I thought I was going to pass out. The altitude had started to do things to me. I was exhausted, and I had this depressed feeling like I didn’t want to go on. I just wanted to sleep, and began to hope that someone would carry me back down the mountain to safety.
My guide was coming to check on each of us, and I remember him asking something like, “How you doing?” I started to mumble something like, “I don’t think I can do this. Why don’t you…” He didn’t let me finish. He grabbed my helmet in his hands, looked me square in the eyes and said with a determination: “You are forty-five minutes from the summit. You are so close. You can do this.” Maybe it was the tangible number of minutes that caught my attention. When you don’t know where you’re going, one of the hardest things is wondering when you’re going to get there. Maybe it was his confidence that I was going to make it, we were going to make it. Whatever it was, when it was time to get up and go, I got up, and went. And we made it. We reached the summit, I remember looking out at the sun that had come up, and we descended into the crater. And I fell asleep. It was some time before other groups made it up, and I got a nap on the top of a 14,000 foot peak.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. Physically draining, emotionally and mentally draining.
I am grateful to that guide.
I’ve talked to the team that I work with at the church I serve that we need to see ourselves as guides. [Grateful to Donald Miller and his Storybrand series for bringing this to our attention] Life is a journey, and we want to equip people for the journey. Our desire, our mission, is to help people become life long followers of Jesus. And, we want to bless our community in His Name. That means we have to be trained, we have to keep learning the routes, know the dangers, and be able to come alongside people when they want to quit and tell them they can make it.
And, we need to do that for each other. There are going to be times for all of us when we wonder if it is worth it. When we’re exhausted. When people question the way we guide.
The more I think about it, the more I think the church might need to see itself as a mountaineering club. All of us are climbers, and yet all of us are guides. Some of us have been climbing longer than others, so we help those that are just starting to climb. At the same time, there have been those that, regardless of how long they’ve been on the mountain, have seen some routes in life that they have navigated. Cancer, divorce, miscarriage, losing a job, losing a loved one to an accident. Some, unfortunately, have climbed several of those routes.
Maybe someone reading this right now is where I was on that mountain decades ago. Saying, “I don’t think I can make it.” If you are, I earnestly pray that God shows up as a guide—gently holding your head in His hands, looking into your eyes, and saying…”You’re going to make it. I am with you, and I’m not leaving you.” And that God surrounds you with fellow climbers and guides who speak that hope into you again and again.
david j burke 