Being Lifted
Above the tree line, near the summit of Piz Ela, the Alp that stands closest to Burguen, Switzerland and serves as the town’s main ski and sledding slope, there is a T-Bar lift that will pull (or sometimes drag) the more advanced skiers closer to the peak where they can then turn around and race down the steep, expert-level slope. Aside from a frightening first experience with this ridiculous contraption in which Leigh and I misjudged the length of the rope’s slack, fell over the back, and were dragged along the slope for several meters, I eventually figured out the physics of this particular lift (which should be replaced with a normal chair lift as soon as possible) and allowed it to usher me upward to the peak. It was during this tense, frigid ascension that something occurred to me.
It is a difficult thing to relinquish those things which tear us down – the sins and entanglements which impede our progress through this life. But it is an even more difficult thing to submit to something that doesn’t appear like it is going to work, especially something that we may have been hurt by in the past. The forgiveness of God and the sufficiency of grace doesn’t always look as capable and powerful as we sing it in our hymns and praise songs. Gazing back down the long, gnarled path we have bushwhacked, straying from God’s purpose and God’s peace and God’s plan, it doesn’t seem like the grace and mercy that He – even He – bestows can get us back to the right path. And even as we try to submit ourselves to his leading, the road back often seems more treacherous than even we expected. At times, the T-Bar lift dragged me up a slope that seemed at least 80 degrees, and it was all I could do to hold on to the bar and wait for the path to level out again. The going – the pulling and coaxing and guiding – was not easy. But, then again, why should I have ever assumed the ascent to such a high peak could be managed comfortably.
For years, I have desired quick transformation. I was taught from an early age that the forgiveness we ask of God is immediately bestowed – even before we ask it. But the life change is not the same way. We are forgiven, but not fixed, immediately. The retooling and renovation and renewal that we desire when we seek forgiveness does not come as quickly or as succinctly packaged. It is a detailed, challenging, and sometimes painful process. Acknowledging that we have grasped hold of the wrong things is the first step. The letting go part is where we find out how serious we were in our repentance. While gripping the bar tight and rising slowly toward the peak, I realized to my chagrin that many of my earnest prayers for forgiveness have dissolved in the face of the second part – in the face of action. Quick transformation does not exist, because transformation cannot take place without commitment and effort.
Many evangelicals are not comfortable with the relationship of faith and works as discussed in Scripture, most notably in the Book of James. The idea of actual deeds being integral in the atonement process often offends many Christians, especially those who fear that accepting such a concept would thrust them down a slippery slope to a level of evangelical “catholicity” they would rather avoid. But James is very clear in his statement, “Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do.” Repentance means to turn around – to, in essence, perform a 180 degree turn and head the other direction. Asking for forgiveness is the turning, but action – actively seeking to change your life – is found in the trembling, faithful footsteps back down the trail you have blazed away from God’s road.
The T-Bar deposited me at the top, and I realized how steep was the slope, yet after speeding down it again and again, I was confident in the lift’s ability to hoist me once again back to the top. I would not have experienced this reality, however, if I had never committed myself to the lift in the first place, despite my trepidation and uncertainty. But just think of the view, I told myself.
Just think of the view.
