It may come as a surprise, but I’m not all that big a fan of winter. However, I like snow.

I should clarify.  When I look at it from the warmth of my living room, I like it.  On my car’s windshield when I need to drive it—not so much.  On the ramp out front when guests are arriving—certainly not!

I am becoming aware of something that seems a vital truth, though.  This truth dawned on me today as I walked to the coffee shop I’m sitting in now.  Yes, just like the rising sun’s light waking me from sleep, it hit me.

We need hardship—uncomfortable things—in our lives.

I know; it seems so antithetical to everything our society tells us.  Every new technology seems aimed at making life easier—at reducing labor.  Smartphones, self-driving cars, and domotics (automated homes) are only the latest in a long line of devices, perhaps starting millennia ago with the inception of the wheel.

When we become accustomed to the ease of living, it is difficult if not impossible for us to move out of the comfort zone in which we buffer ourselves.

I walked on the sidewalk covered in the remnants of this week’s snowfall today and I found myself grousing about the uneven and sometimes slick surface. It wasn’t the first time I’ve done it recently.

Each frigid day this week I’ve walked to the university where the Lovely Lady is employed, to collect her at the end of her workday.  The university staff has cleared their sidewalks of snow and ice rather nicely.  It’s easy to stroll along the concrete surfaces, without the need to watch our steps.  We walk comfortably and easily across most of the campus, free of stress and effort.

Until that is, we come to the end of their property and the cleared sidewalks.  The roughness of icy spots and the deeper snow mean we have to choose our steps carefully. We’re getting to the age where falls are more than just a quick trip to the ground and getting up dusting the snow off our seats.  The pain lasts.

If we don’t choose our steps wisely, it hurts.

But, we don’t walk where the sidewalks are always cleared.  We must walk circumspectly—cautiously and with care—in every situation.

Does it seem we’re not talking just about snowy sidewalks anymore?  Perhaps we’re not.

If the shoe fits. . .

I had the words to the old Isaac Watts hymn, Am I a Soldier of the Cross, in my head this morning as I walked.

Are there no foes for me to face?
Must I not stem the flood?
Is this vile world a friend to grace,
To help me on to God?

I know, I know.  It’s odd to be singing words written three hundred years ago while crunching through the snow.  But, that’s me.  Odd.

The clear answer to Mr. Watts’ question is that the world is not a friend to grace and it will, without fail, attempt to thwart our every effort to be with God.

We who follow Christ get to make the journey one precarious step at a time.  The path, we’re told, is narrow and often lonely.  We will stumble a time or two.  Or more.

It’s easier on the other path—the one that’s been cleared and leveled.  There’s more company there, too.

But, in the end, the easy path is infinitely more dangerous.  The destination won’t be pleasant, I’m told.

Besides, there’s always Someone on the rough path with our best interest in mind.  The Psalmist knew it.

The Lord directs the steps of the godly.
    He delights in every detail of their lives.
Though they stumble, they will never fall,
    for the Lord holds them by the hand.
(Psalm 37: 23-24, NLT)

Our friends, the hikers, have walked the Appalachian Trail in the eastern United States from Georgia to Maine.  Over two thousand miles, they trekked, often holding on to each other, choosing every step with care lest they twist an ankle or break a bone.

The Trail is not smooth.  Not at all.  The hikers talk about the hardships, of the mental discipline necessary to keep going despite the obstacles.

But mostly, they talk about the incredible sights along the way and the amazing friends they made as they struggled along.

You don’t hike the Appalachian Trail on smooth, paved surfaces.

The road we have in front of us isn’t all that smooth, either.  But, there are astounding people and beauty along the way.  Besides, the finish—our goal—lies at the end of this sometimes icy, or rocky, or muddy, path.

The world is not a friend to grace.  It wants us to be fooled by the smooth, wide pathways that eventually lead to hopelessness.

Meantime, on the inconvenient path, there will be friends along the way to lean on.  And strong hands to keep us from falling when we stumble.

I’ll try to hold my grumbling down to a dull roar.

Still, I’ll be happy when that snow is melted.

 

See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise,  redeeming the time, because the days are evil.
(Ephesians 5:15-16, NKJV)

“Careful!” he whispered. “Steps. Lots of steps. Must be careful!”
(Gollum, from The Two Towers, by J.R.R. Tolkien)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2024. All Rights Reserved.