Climbing and Life

Climbing teaches me so much about myself. I love it not because I’m always comfortable with it…nor because I want to become the best at it, but because I’m continually challenged to trust, to do things that seem impossible. Although I’m not huge on wall climbing – doing stuff outdoors is ten times better – I went up to the wall yesterday. Most of the climbs didn’t bother me that much except for one – I had to use a set of tiny holds in combination with a leap to complete the climb, and the situation looked impossible. They glared me in the face with that look that said there’s no way – you use me and you WILL fall. I don’t usually even think about looking at my eight knot – it’s so instinct, you tie it and know that it’s safe. But I looked, followed every path the knot took just to make sure everything was the way it should be. And then pushed for what seemed to be the impossible. Yeah, I didn’t fall and actually made it through a situation that looked like a guaranteed failure.

I feel lately like the rest of like is so much like that. God continues to bring me through life in such a way that I can’t see a way out. That all I can do is take more risk – and then watch what happens. There seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel for so much of life right now. Over the past few days, some of the things I said hurt a good friend very deep. And it hurts so much. All I could yesterday do was curl up in bed and take that pain to Christ; I couldn’t sleep, all I could do was feel the pain, nothing could take it away. Part of me wanted to give up…to run away and hide. There is nothing I can do to take away what I’ve said. I suppose what I said, though, reflects my selfishness, my self-centeredness. Nothing I can say can take that away, because what I said once again exposed a part of who I am that I hate, a part I desperately want Christ to transform. And once again, it seems like there is no light, that the situation is impossible, that there is no hope. Somehow though I have to try and run, be myself and run while wading through thick mud. There’s a song by All American Rejects called “Move Along”. Part of it goes like this…

Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through
Move along
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)

When everything is wrong we move along
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)
When everything is wrong, we move along
Along, along, along

When all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through

I don’t completely agree with the song – because it seems as if they are saying that we have to be strong and continue on some strength that can’t be there with Christ. And that will ultimately fail. But with Christ, the next day will occur. And somehow…I don’t have any idea how…but somehow, life will continue. I’m so tempted to give up. The pain seems so great. It’s just easier not to invest in the lives of others, to get to know other people because I’m going to hurt them…and they will hurt me. But to kill my heart, to become bitter, to run away will only hurt others … and me that much more. Keeping my heart open is so hard at times, because it’s a guarantee that hurt will come, I’ll get torn up and so will others. But with the healing and transformation that Christ offers, there is hope, a guarantee that life will continue to get better even though harder. Wow…I guess I’ll have to continue taking leaps again. Maybe I’ll check the rope a bit less and less every time, trusting that I can make the jump and I’ll be held by God.