By slow ascent

The pace was painfully measured. For three hours the sherpa leading our group on its ascent to Everest Base Camp placed one foot in front of the other so slowly I thought I was going to fall over. Then we would stop for lunch and rest until the sun rose the next morning.

It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the rest. High altitude acclimatization meant we were all suffering as our red blood cells struggled to adjust to a scarce oxygen supply.

While our bodies engaged in this invisible war we huddled in a tea house, trying to read, journal, or explore the possibility of a fresh conversation. Once our slow morning ascent was complete, most of our waking hours were spent killing time until we crawled into our sleeping bags for the fitful sleep that is also part of high altitude adjustment.

The pace we walked was painful but killing time in waiting felt like it was killing me.

This was my problem. Life is full, and I had carved out an unprecedented three weeks of family and work time to be here. Waiting for my body to adjust to an unnatural environment wasn’t in the plan.

I was looking for an adventure, maybe even a bit of danger, with sights to see and things to climb to the top of. That was what a base camp trek was supposed to be about, not waiting for a protesting body to catch up. I had come to conquer something.

I began to think about ways to do this faster. Maybe we could climb 2,000 feet a day instead of 1,500. Maybe we could have a faster group and a slower group. Maybe we could cross a high pass instead of doubling back. Anything but this agonizingly slow ascent!

The answer from the sherpa was gentle but firm. “This is the pace our bodies can handle. There’s no other way to the top. This is one thing you can’t do quickly.”

Two weeks later we stood on top of the rock spire that marked our summit. Climbing this rock had both the pain and the exhilaration I had expected. We made it! We conquered! We stared in awe at the highest peaks on the planet and there, nestled among them, was the ultimate high altitude prize – Everest itself.

God gave humans a drive to conquer and few places symbolize it as well as Mount Everest, the highest place on earth.

But for God’s people, a far more formidable peak looms before us. It’s the inner battle of the soul, the conquest of the “natural man” by the “mind of the Spirit.”

This is a summit assault in the fullest sense. It demands the conquest of anger, lust, resentment, envy, and pride. The terms were laid down at the very beginning: “sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it” (Genesis 4:7, NIV).

This conquest also involves acclimatization – the invisible battle of the natural body going to unnatural places. It’s a very practical problem. The “old nature” does not adapt to high altitude without protest.

Somehow this shocks us. We hear the stories of great exploits, decisive victories, seizing hold of inner enemies and crushing them once and for all. We imagine ourselves pumping our fists in the air after great battles.

Then we discover that the moments we thought defined it are just that – moments. And along the way there’s a strange, intangible, seemingly nameless battle raging deep within. Even when going forward, the pace seems glacial, and then we stop! Surely there’s a way to accelerate the program. We tell ourselves we don’t have time for this.

What about the stories we hear of those who take angers and lusts and resentments and envies and conquer them in a decisive moment by a sweeping declaration of victory?

But those are just moments. They’re good moments but still just moments. At their best, they give us a glimpse of the peak set before us. At their worst, they delude us.

This conquest is not won while we stand with arms raised on some pinnacle. It’s won by the slow climb and by the rest this demands as our natural bodies struggle to catch up.

The only way to conquer this peak is by slow ascent. We’re told to remember this so, as Hebrews 12:3 puts it, we “will not grow weary and lose heart.”

James Toews is pastor at Neighbourhood Church, Nanaimo, B.C. In April, he joined a team of trekkers to Everest Base Camp that raised money for B.C.’s Mennonite Brethren camps.