I want to climb mountains

My desire to stand on top of some of the highest points on earth isn't new. It's something that has been building in me for the last 2 years or so. In reality, it's probably been boiling under the surface even longer than that. But recently, it's become what some might call an obsession. (Just talk to my bride for a list of books I've read, websites I've visited and people I've talked to about this whole thing.)

Most people who are into mountaineering start their love for the peaks at a very early age. I'm not at a "very early age." Of course, I'm not decrepit either. So I've got that going for me. But my love for the mountains is no less real than that of someone who grew up staring at one from the back porch. My approach and timing may just be different.

Now, for those of you who live in or near the mountains, you'll undoubtedly think, "Why not just start climbing?" But when you live in a place where the highest elevation is the roof of a structure made of steel and glass, there's a lot of thought about climbing that happens before you actually get to climb. And there's a lot of living that happens beforehand too.

For those who have been climbing as long as they can remember, they probably spent their teens and 20s pushing the limits, testing themselves beyond the point of intelligence. I don't have that luxury. I've lived long enough to have some of those edges of naivete chipped away. I know I have limits. I also know that my dreams affect more than just me.

I have a wife and two young sons. I have friends and family who count on me. I'm not going to run off to the wilderness and pretend that my life would be better if I could just climb the Devil's Thumb or scale the north face of the Eiger.

I live in the real world. So when I finally do have the opportunity and availability to climb, I won't be stupid. I won't knowingly put myself in positions that jeopordize what God has blessed me with.

However...

I want to climb mountains. And inherent within that desire is the expectation that I will take risks. I plan on pushing the limits of my physical abilities and testing myself when and where I can. I think my bride understands that. In fact, I know she does because she hopes to be on those mountains with me.

But as I think about it, I think it's crucial to do that in any aspect of life. It's vital in order to feel alive. And I think that's true for anyone, whatever they want to do.

I want to climb mountains. But before I ever make it to the summit of a large pile of rocks, I want every day to become a new mountain, a new adventure, a new summit I strive to reach.

Priceless

This painting hangs in my office, just above my desk. The woman who painted it is a relatively unknown artist. Her work isn't displayed in museums or galleries. If her art was up for auction, it wouldn't tempt the uber-rich to drop millions of dollars (though it wouldn't surprise me). Unlike the world's iconic works of art, this painting has only been seen by maybe 50 people. Yet, this one canvas means more to me than any other painting I've ever seen. And it's not just because the artist is my bride.

When I look at the marks of the brushstokes, the shading of the colors, the layers of paint and gloss; and when I think of the story behind the painting, I see something so much more than a mixture of chemicals on a canvas. I see love. But more than a reminder of being loved, I see a challenge to love.

See, Carissa doesn't paint for the love of the viewer. She paints because of her love for the viewer, whoever that may be.

I've urged her on several occasions to use her talent to get paid, to paint for money. But each time, she says she can't. It's not that faux-modesty, oh-I-don't-have-any-talent kind of thing. It's that her talent, her creativity, her brilliance in this realm comes from a place so deep, so rich, so full, that the only way to describe it is an expression of love.

And you can't put a price on that.

It Really Does Matter

My first conversation with Tim was exactly a month ago. It was a call that absolutely rocked my spirit and reawakened me to the fight I am in, along with so many others.

In a perfect world, that phone call would have led to an immediate change in Tim. After all, as Christians, isn't that what we want - to see that instant change in people and to know that what we say and what we pray actually matters?

But that's not exactly how it worked. After all, we don't live in a perfect world.

Since that first call with Tim, he has lost his job and found himself again on the verge of suicide - complete with bottle in one hand, gun in the other. And on more than one occasion he has called me with doubts, questions, fears and a feeling of hopelessness.

God, though, never abandoned Tim.

My latest phone call with Tim was just about 15 minutes ago. To say that there has been a change in his life  would be an understatement. Because the man I just spoke with is literally on his way to becoming a new person!

Over the last four weeks, Tim has begun to find his way to God. He's found a new job, gotten rid of the gun, and begun to dive into God's Word. He's understanding things about God that never made sense to him before. He's asking questions that never occured to him before (and not the "why me" questions, but the "what now" questions.) And he's planning on coming to church this weekend - expecting God to move in a big way in his life...and I'm sure He will.

Tim wanted to thank me for my prayers. And he wanted me to thank you for yours. He feels them, almost literally. And he is on the verge of making the single greatest decision any of us can ever make. God is so good!

And just in case you needed a reminder: what you pray actually does matter.