Dogwood Digest

This past week Steve and I had the pleasure of a short vacation. We toured northern New England from the coast of Maine to the foothills of southwest New Hampshire in our rental car, stopping at a different hotel each night. It was a wonderful adventure. A highlight of the trip was our journey up Mount Washington, the highest peak in the northeast United States. Unfortunately, the weather was not very cooperative. The day of our Cog Railway excursion to the top was cloudy and damp. As the old coal-burning railway engine chugged up the terrain, we were eventually enveloped in clouds. We stepped off the railroad car at the top into thick fog and 40 degree temperatures. I climbed the 15 feet or so to stand on the official summit, generously assisted by able backpack and walking stick-equipped climbers, and Steve snapped my picture.

The trip brought back memories of another time I ventured toward the summit of Mount Washington. That time I went up the old fashioned way-- on foot. Several camp friends and I hiked the mountain on a Columbus Day weekend, up Tuckerman's Ravine. We left Massachusetts before sunrise and began the climb as the sun peeked over the horizon. It was an all-day excursion. I was a lot thinner then, and in much better shape at the ripe old age of 20, but to this day I can still remember the agony of the climb. We hadn't gone far when my muscles started screaming for oxygen. My knees, feet, and legs were in pain the entire trip up. To make matters worse, I was the only wimp in the group. It appeared I was holding them all back from sprinting up the mountain! Gasping for breath, struggling to keep up, I was quite sure I would never make it to the top. As we neared the summit, we began to pass signs warning that to continue upward in bad weather conditions would mean death. Of course my sprightly friends viewed these as a photo opportunity, rather than a harbinger of doom. I was just glad to sit down for a few minutes as we snapped the pictures.

When we reached a point within sight of the summit, which presented an even more challenging section of the climb from where I stood, it began to snow. In light of this and the time of day (which was probably later than anyone expected at our onset, thanks to their slowest companion) we made the decision to abort the rest of the climb and head back down. I almost wept with relief. We still had hours of walking ahead of us, but it was all downhill. At the end of the long day, as dusk descended, I gratefully sank into the car's backseat and made a promise to myself that my climbing days were over.

So last week when Steve suggested that next time we skip the railroad ride and climb the trail, I reminded him of what I had learned back in 1977. "That mountain almost killed me then," I told him. "It would surely kill me now."

Paul knew what it was to press on in the midst of agony. He wrote the Philippians: "I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:12-14)

In this passage Paul gives us several helpful tips in our quest to press on. First, he tells us where to focus our gaze. We are not to look around at the circumstances which surround us, nor backward at what we may have done in the past. Our gaze should never move downward to our own two feet, which would surely remind us of our human frailty and limitations. So where are we to look? Heavenward, toward the Savior who will supply the strength and power to continue. Heavenward, toward the end goal: the reward which will come from our efforts of living life for Him.

The original Greek, dioko, translated here as press on, is translated in similar verses as pursue, run after, or seek after. The word is actually more commonly translated as persecute in other contexts. Interestingly, Paul uses this very same verb, dioko, in remembrance of his former unrelenting persecution of the saints: "For you have heard of my previous way of life in Judaism, how intensely I persecuted the church of God and tried to destroy it." (Galatians 1:13) No matter what the context, dioko denotes a pursuit distinguished by an intensity resulting from the motivating conviction. All Paul's pursuits-- destructive or constructive-- were characterized by this kind of passion.

This is how we must pursue the prize. But a mountain climb doesn't happen in a sprint. Sometimes the path is more level than other times, and the walk becomes easier to endure. Yet very often the path is steep. How do we then climb? One step at a time. Eyes on the end goal. With determination that comes from what we so passionately believe.

When the valley is deep
When the mountain is steep
When the body is weary
When we stumble and fall

When the choices are hard
When we're battered and scarred
When we've spent our resources
When we've given our all

In Jesus name we press on
In Jesus name we press on
Dear Lord, with the prize
Clear before our eyes
We find the strength to press on

--Selah

(To hear this song as originally recorded, click here.)