Compliments of 30/30.

The author of Hebrews, "unknown except by God" according to Origen of Alexandria just finished writing about dead works, thorns and thistles and the eventual burning of worthless things such as these.  And after a bit of a fright, reassures them of the following.

Hebrews 6: 9-12
Though we speak in this way, yet in your case, beloved, we feel sure of better things—things that belong to salvation. For God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints, as you still do. And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

Sometimes passages that are meant to cut, pierce or softly shed light on my disobedience leave me feeling dismayed and well, incredibly unfit for this "following" lifestyle.  I mean, I'm trying really hard, but I still manage to produce some thistles now and again.  This mystery writer seemed to understand that discouragement at my frequent failure to do what I know I want to do often results in a feeling of sluggishness.  I've been peddling for awhile.  So why continue trying if I am still wobbling around like a graduated tricycle rider with no training wheels?

Frankly, I get tired.  Tired of picking myself back up, dusting myself off, and trudging up this long, lonesome, narrow path.  And I will now call on some learning found in my love/hate relationship: hiking. I can recall several many moments this summer, on my short hike this fall, on any hike, where I wonder why on God's green earth am I choosing to subject myself to this level of misery.  There are times when it's awful.  Absolutely and utterly awful.  Blisters, bugs, bad knees, broken backs from bulging packs, bad sleeps with no beds, and butt-burning hills.  You are sweaty, dirty, tired and hungry at least ninety percent of the time on a real honest to goodness hiking trail.  And oddly enough, you do it all for that measly ten percent.  That miniscule ten percent where you see a spectacular view.  Miles and miles of trees and ridges, valleys and lakes.  What keeps you going is that, "you feel sure of better things", the things that lie on the tops of those mountains.  I roll up my sleeping bag, and fill my pack time and time again, with "earnestness" even, despite my tried and true knowledge of the doom that surely awaits.  Another crazy thing about hiking is that when you finish, you longingly look back at your time in the woods.  Yearning for that ten percent, and madly enough, also yearning for the sheer anguish you underwent to get there.  Well, maybe not yearning for it.  But appreciating it none-the-less.  A quiet respect of the hard work completed.  A subtle feeling of accomplishment.

"So keep on truckin',"  said mostly to myself.  I know you have a blister on your little toe, woke up to a goat bleating outside your tent, cannot possibly imagine eating another protein bar, smell like the inside of a shin guard, and will probably contract some sort of disease from scratching open your multitude of mosquito bites, but God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints, as you still do. And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.