Suspended Thirty Feet in Air with Only One Way Forward - May 17
Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 89:1-18; PM Psalm 89:19-52; Ezek. 4:1-17; Heb. 6:1-12; Luke 9:51-62
For elementary and middle school, I attended a small Episcopal School. My eighth grade graduating class was less than thirty people, but our smaller classes afforded us opportunities that were not possible at larger schools. For our eighth-grade “senior” trip, our class went to the Nantahala Outdoor Center for a week of group and team-building exercises including whitewater rafting, mountain biking, and the all-so-terrifying high ropes course.
A high ropes course is an intricate system of cables and telephone poles with elements that must be maneuvered about thirty feet in the air. To complete a course, one must put on a harness, lock into the system, and begin their ascent up some set of obstacles until they reach the height of the course. Often the accent draws the participants attention up so the person does not recognize how far they are off the ground until they have reached the top of the course, are they are then faced with the reality of being suspended thirty feet in the air. Then, the person must walk or jump across platforms and steel wires, or swing using ropes and cargo nets until they get to a final point which is almost always a zip line ride back to the ground.
To make things worse, because of the safety protocols, there is often only one person who is attempting the course at a time. This means that if you are an eighth grader attempting a high ropes course for the very first time, you might have twenty-seven other people staring at you, cheering you on to your glory (or waiting for something traumatic to happen to give you a new nickname, and make fun of you for the remainder of the year). Once you started, there was no going back. You had to give it your very best or else face your peers, which was certain to be social suicide.
Well, I made it to the end of the course, as did most of my class. The course is designed to look more challenging than it is to boost confidence and self-esteem in the people who attempt to complete it. But what I remember most is the feeling of not being able to go back. When I arrived at the top of the course, I couldn’t go back down the same way. I had to face my fears and move forward.
Today’s Gospel is an interesting dialogue with Jesus and some of his followers. They are adamant that they want to follow him, and Jesus begins to parse how difficult this is going to be. One of his followers mentions having to go back and bury his father, and Jesus rebukes him. It’s not the most compassionate response to someone grieving the loss of a beloved family member.
The point is not about funerals and loving family. It is the reality that following Jesus is always moving us in a new direction. We must be willing to surrender the past in order to see where God is pushing us next. “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Following Jesus means letting go of what we have done and left undone so that we may live into God’s liberating way.
This freedom is grace, but it also comes with some responsibilities. Moving forward once we have reached the top means advocating for love, the radical witness of hospitality, putting love of neighbor and God above our own selfish needs, advocating for justice and care of the marginalized, even how we live in relationship to things we are entrusted with. When we know what God has done for us, there is no turning back.
And as hard as it sounds, I have to believe that God’s love nurtures us along the way. And Just because we are suspended thirty feet in the air, doesn’t mean we can’t put one foot in front of the other. We might just find it’s easier than it looks.
Faithfully,
John+
Questions for Self-Reflection: Are there moments in your life where you realized you could not do things the same way anymore? What was the catalyst for this change? How is your life different today?
Daily Challenge: Pick one thing you could stop doing today that would make your life more meaningful and hopeful. Tell a friend or loved one so that they may hold you accountable.