Faith, Hope and Charity

This week we break from our theme of Interruptible for an insight from Terry Sheldon...

As a child growing up I romanticized the Cascade mountains. Oregon's volcanic peaks were different than the Rockies’ smooth and sparkly granite, and they weren't clustered together en-masse. Each Cascade peak was a craggy sentinel, and although formed with ancient violence, now stood sleeping. And beckoning.

I looked to them for inspiration and dreamed of climbing their dizzying heights. I was most captivated by the ones closest to Eugene, the Three Sisters. Also known by our settlers as Faith, Hope, and Charity.

We believers know these three descriptors as signs of strong emotional and spiritual health, wonderfully described in the Bible’s love chapter, Corinthians 13. It all seemed to fit together for me as I took up backpacking and mountain climbing in my youth, and as I attempted to learn the lessons of faith, hope and charity in my Christian walk. Both parallel journeys have been rocky and challenging, but rewarding in their own ways.

Awhile back it occurred to me that Corinthians’ lovely three sisters were chronological in our spiritual lives. Faith (North Sister) is a formidable peak. I can compare it to my first realization of the magnitude of my sin. Accepting the Lord requires us to stand up to fear and take a giant leap (of faith). Although I never did attempt North, my spiritual climb has been arduous. A start yes, but with a Doubting Thomas heart. I really hoped for more - the perfecting of my faith.

I grew up admiring my father’s mountain climbing exploits and waited to go with him one day. My chance finally came as a teen, on Hope (Middle Sister). The climb was rough. We were on the wrong side of a ridge and got lost. We triggered a small rock slide, resulting in a smashed finger. Then clouds shrouded the mountain by mid-afternoon and we were forced to turn back. My summit hopes were unfulfilled, but they would remain.

I would eventually reach the summit of Hope in my early twenties. It was glorious, but not without hard lessons along the way. My climbing buddy and I overcame poor planning, running out of water, sunburns and having to navigate the forest by moonlight after our flashlights died. In life, our day-to-day hope is always out there in front of us, as it should be. Without it we would lack motivation for what’s ahead. And without going forth, we would not grow and learn. But hope is not the endgame.

The faith, hope and charity progression seems tougher as it goes along. Learning to love and to be loved WELL is an inevitable struggle, and one of life’s hardest lessons. A few years later, my Charity (South Sister) experience was equal in its struggle, and its payoff. What started out to be a misty and cold hike through Charity’s lower reaches became a wickedly windy and wet slog up its southern ridge. Four of our seven-person team had turned around earlier, my father included. He was not happy, but trusted my judgement. The three of us who remained continued on, not at all sure how it would end.

But a glimmer in my imagination urged me on, as I sensed a unique mountain-top experience ahead. My fellow climbers had a similar expectation. We were a band of brothers, and we bonded in our struggle. Then it happened. Blue sky finally peeked out between the swirling curtain of clouds. As we reached Charity’s top under clear cobalt blue skies, we gazed out in astonishment across a flat cloud floor below us. It was almost 360 degrees of brilliant white, with all the Cascade peaks jutting up and out, North to South. I was on top of the world, and it was a sight and experience I will never forget.

Learning to love God and people is similar. It starts with youthful naiveté, then comes struggles with people that challenge our self-esteem, and hard events that can shake us to the core. But if we hang together and press ahead, and stay open and committed and humble, our love is purified and enhanced. True love (God's love) is indeed breathtaking. Personally, I believe I've just scratched the surface.

Let’s continue the climb, with courageous faith, with constant hope and with relentless love.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

 

“Creation Contrasts”

Devotional originally posted December 28, 2016

On my long backpacking trip in the Wallowa Wilderness last summer, I was struck by the contrasting extremes of the natural world surrounding me. The terrain was either harsh or beautiful, life-sustainingly useful or life-threatening - and frequently both, side by side. The extremes were not just noticeable, they seemed at times contradictory. Really Lord, mosquitoes in this drop-dead gorgeous lake valley?

Abrasive and unyielding granite rocks next to delicate and colorful wildflowers. Freezing cold ice and snow draining into refreshing, gurgling streams, which of course sustain wildflowers, animals and humans. High and steep mountain barriers that make passage extremely hard, dotted with delicate fir trees to enrich our oxygen, provide shade and campfire fuel.

Then the absolute delicious feeling of living life in its euphoric fullness, walking in lock-step with a realization of possible physical peril. Would my next step be misplaced, casting me down a rocky cliff? Would my stomach violently reject all the lightweight but inhumane freeze-dried food I was consuming? Would I encounter a bear at the worst time by surprising her with cubs nearby?

Yes, the wilderness was extreme, but also for me, a photo-collage metaphor of everyday life back in Comfortville. There are plenty of emotional contrasts in our 9 to 5 as well. We say we take the good with the bad, but do we handle both well? We crave security, love and comfort, but we also get insecurity, heartache, and anxiety.

Success and failure, to borrow that word pair, are complete opposites, right? But are they really? Does failure amount to a terrible and permanent ending? And does success equal happiness and contentment, as some sort of moral achievement? Or are there hidden components of each for us to get to know, aspects more useful or dangerous than we might assume?

Success can satisfy and reward us for our efforts, but it can also produce arrogance and buffer us from Godly compassion. Failure can plunge us deep into self-absorbed despair, or it can make us rich, deep-pool people who find a way to “win” in a more subtle and rewarding way. Am I suggesting failure is the better result? Not necessarily, but perhaps with both contrasts, it's important to experience each in its mature fullness, and that we treat both with much care.