Narrow Trails and Soft Landings

“Some of you say, ‘We can do whatever we want to!’ But I tell you that not everything may be good or helpful.” 1 Corinthians 10:23)

We hiked the rocky red crags of Zion National Park. Growing up, my family did a lot of camping, hiking and site-seeing. This day we started near the bottom of a beautiful outcropping that began in the shade and wound a shallow trail toward the top. Close to the summit the trail narrowed quite a bit. I was 12 and my brother Joel was 10 at the time.

As the trail narrowed it also curved with a steep drop-off to the right and the sheer cliff rising on the left. We had been walking two abreast with Joel and Dad in front and Mom and I taking up the rear. The hike was enjoyable, the air was warm yet comfortable and my memory of the day is happy until…

…Until I had to face the narrow bend in the trail. Now it was single-file, with no room for error. My memory probably is a bit distorted, but I remember the trail having just enough from for a person to stand upright, feet astride, with less than a foot left over on either side. Dad and Joel started around the bend and, just before they disappeared around the corner, Dad said, “Mark, you coming?”

The beautiful day, with the sun brightly lighting the path, suddenly became a stop-motion moment. Time slowed down to a single-frame-per-second speed. The beauty of the climb became a menacing ogre ready to trip me up  and send me tumbling over the cliff’s edge. Time ticked. Time tocked. Time slowed like the final stanza of a church hymn. Time slowed; I froze.

Yes, I have a fear of heights. I have no idea how it began; I’ve been afraid of heights as far back as I can remember. I am pretty sure it is not genetic, though. First of all, my younger brother, 10 years old, marched right around the corner behind our dad and finished the narrow climb. His crystal blue eyes were the teeth of dragons in my psyche. Bad enough that Mom and Dad didn’t flinch a moment at the sight of that two-by-four trail, but for my younger brother to sally right behind was like the dragon slaying me!

Yes, I am convinced it is not genetic. Not only did Joel continue the dangerous venture 45 years ago, but just last year my oldest son and our 20 year-old daughter jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. Diving toward earth their instructors tugged a cord no thicker than my pet dog’s leash, and they both floated back toward earth. After the initial nausea, my daughter enjoyed the ride, as if human beings were ever meant to spend more than two or three seconds without their feet planted firmly on the ground. “I was ready to go right back up again,” she said moments after her landing.

It is perfectly fine for my brother to walk on balance beam trails and my kids to leap out of planes. I am quite happy they have the confidence to do it. But, I would be pretty upset if they tied me up, threw me into the back of Cessna and shoved me out at anything above three feet altitude. They are free, I am not.

I do not suppose my story is the perfect analogy to think about Paul’s answer to a young church’s question. “We are free in Christ,” they insisted. “We can do anything we want.” And yes, they were completely free. No more messy animal sacrifices. No more circumcision of every male child. They would actually take a long walk on the Sabbath without it being called “work”, because Jesus had fulfilled every bit of the Law. But, what the misunderstood about freedom is that we are not only freed “from” things; we are freed “to” become someone.

So Paul answers, “Yes, indeed, you are free. But, not everything is good or helpful.” The Old Testament dietary laws are no longer an issue. God judges no one based upon the amount of shellfish or pork on their plate. But, that doesn’t mean I am exempt from the consequences of over-indulging my freedom. I am very free to clog my veins with as much cholesterol as I want, God doesn’t make that a reason to judge me. But, it might get me to meet Him face to face a bit earlier than I intended. My “freedom” is not so good for me.

But, more importantly, freedom is not always “helpful”. My young brother’s freedom was perfect for him. He scampered around that corner (and probably doesn’t even remember this tale), enjoying each minute. But, his freedom would have become “unhelpful” if he had insisted I follow. Knowing my weakness, he could have actually harmed me by insisting that “real men” have no fear of centimeter thin trails thousands of feet above sea level. (Exaggerate? No, not me!)

You see, we ask the wrong question when we say, “Can I be a Christian and still…? (fill in your own blank). Drink alcohol? Buy luxury vehicles? Miss church? We have missed the point entirely. Can you even imagine Jesus thinking: “Hmm…alcoholic or N/A beer? Which should I choose?”

Some of my more conservative friends would say, “No of course, because Jesus would never touch alcohol.” But, that’s not quite the point I’m trying to make. Jesus was so full of “His Father’s business” that this minutia of whether every little deed was allowable or not just didn’t register. You see, it is the selfish ego that even asks the question, “What sort of actions can I do, and still remain a Christian?”

While we debate wine or grape juice the poor wait for us to obey Jesus’ call. While we seek justification for our favorite pipe tobacco, bullies run the halls of schools, the neighborhoods of cities and the board rooms of corporations. While we argue over how often a Christian should visit church, widows wonder when someone will visit them.

I am very glad that no one forced me around the corner of that knife-sharp trail. I am more happy, though, that I am free in Christ, not to do whatever I want, but to live free of my old selfish nature and to live for what He in His unending grace desires.