I don't understand thrill seekers. Maybe its just my nature, but jumping out of a perfectly good airplane hoping the parachute opens, or tying a rope to your legs and jumping off a bridge praying the rope doesn't snap just doesn't do it for me.
Although I find the stories of people who risk life and limb in order to make history, live their dream, or achieve the impossible oddly inspiring, I can't say I understand it. A hobby is supposed to relieve stress, not multiply it I've always thought, but that's just me.
In 1953, Edmund Hillary, and Tenzing Norgay made history when they were the first men ever recorded to have climbed to the summit of Mount Everest.
Since then many have tried, and some have failed in repeating the performance, some seven hundred people having successfully scaled the mountain, while over three thousand having failed somewhere along their journey toward the summit. Although frostbite, oxygen deprivation and death are a constant possibility, every year a new batch of adventurers set out to scale the mountain, and reach the summit.
It takes both commitment, and physical preparation to even attempt such a journey, never mind a hefty bankroll. When all is said and done, after acquiring crampons, carabiners, ice axes, and the such, and hiring a legitimate company to guide your ascent, you're out some $80,000 and still no closer to the famed summit. After all that, your journey hasn't even started. Acclimating to the thinner air, takes up almost two months of your life, then risking life and limb you begin your journey, a slow and laborious climb toward that place you wish to reach.
It's been said by those who have made it all the way to the top, that the experience is awe inspiring. One feels like they're on top of the world, but that feeling of awe wears off as the cold sets in, and soon even the bravest of souls must shrug their shoulders, and begin their descent. Even the most enthralled must come down eventually, a flag, a family crest, or a personal trinket the only reminder to anyone who braves the elements, and makes it to the summit that they were once there.
Those fortunate enough to survive the descent, go home with the experience of a lifetime, and a good story to tell the grandchildren around the fireplace someday.
No, I'm not sharing this story because someone talked me into climbing Mount Everest. I have better things to do with my time. I share this story, to draw a few parallels between the commitment of those who choose to go on this adventure, and the commitment of God's children when it comes to knowing Him.
Just as I don't understand people who would risk their lives in order to climb a mountain, there are some who don't understand how I can stay so excited about God, and about the things of God.
As awe inspiring as the view from the summit of Mount Everest might be, eventually, like all things of this earth it passes. When you begin to know God however, to grow, to climb, to ascend the mountain of knowledge and wisdom found only in Him, you realize the awe never wears off. God is not merely awe inspiring, God is awe maintaining, and the best part, is that you never have to leave. There's no chance of frostbite in God, you never have to climb back down, you can remain on the summit, in fellowship with Him perpetually. Imagine that singular moment of perfect bliss when one sees the view from the summit for the first time, then stretch that moment out for an entire lifetime. That's what it's like growing in God, knowing God, and being in fellowship with Him, a lifelong moment of perfect bliss.
With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.