Vertical Hiking

By Nancy L. Burall 

Equipped with harnesses, ropes, and pulleys, the group embarked on their adventure.  With chalk for hands and sheer guts for power, they ascended.  The advanced group had one goal; to rock climb a cantilevered cliff.  Being ‘blind’ as to where to place their hands, they had to rely on the guide to call out directions and encouragement.  The climbers called this ‘vertical hiking’.

As I sat in awed appreciation for their skill, I felt led to watch the other group.  A Boy Scout troop had signed up for the beginners class.  The course was a small easy-sloped hill to climb down.  The state park provided two guides.  One guide stood at the top to assist the boys into the harness and hook the rope to it.  Next, he secured the rope in the pulley; followed by throwing its tail down to the bottom guide.  The top guide would give safety instructions before the boys scaled down.  The guide at the bottom held the rope firmly in his hands.  As the scouts   descended, he was careful to release a little of the rope at a time and called out instructions, all the while encouraging the kids to have fun.

One boy caught my attention.  He had on all the right gear, a helmet, gloves, knee and elbow pads and a harness, to ensure his safety.  Yet the guide repeatedly called out, “rest in the harness… rest in the harness.”  However, the boy scout trusted in his strength.  From the way he grasped the rope, I wondered if fear would consume him.  Hiking-boots-clad feet stumbled among small rocks.  Sweat soaked the blue and yellow t-shirt.  When at last he landed at the bottom, he shook out his arms.  Shaky legs held up a trembling frame.  He wiped his brow with the Boy Scout scarf as he sat down.  “I'm tired,” he said.  Rather than listen to the expert and allow the harness and rope to do all of the work, his energy drained because he relied on himself.  A sad expression covered a dirty face.  The boy had zero fun.

The Lord shared in my heart that I was just like that boy.  A bible, Matthew Henry's Commentary, and various bible study materials were at my disposal.  How could I feel frustrated and exhausted while serving Him?

Did I serve the Lord in my own mule-headed strength, instead of trusting Him?

One day, I read in John 17, that Jesus went to the Father to equip His followers with the protection, power, and perseverance that we would need to face a world captured by sin and hate.  My utter of grunts and strains were useless for the faith needed in order to serve the Lord.  With repentance, I began to rely on Jesus’ strength rather than on mine.  When I realized that we believers already had all of the necessary tools to do the work of the Lord, I found comfort and hope.

“I pray for them. I am not praying for the world, but for those you have given me, for they are yours. All I have is yours, and all you have is mine. And glory has come to me through them. I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name—the name you gave me—so that they may be one as we are one.” John 17:9-11 NIV