Don’t just go halfway

Mediocrity. Even the word sounds bad. I don’t know about you, but I can’t handle low-level living. Some people can’t even complain with enthusiasm.

You ask how they’re doing and all they can muster is, “Not too bad.”

Really, is that the best you can come up with?

The writer of the great Revelation in the Bible spoke on God’s behalf and said, “I wish you were either hot or cold. I can’t handle lukewarm.” (my paraphrase) Not even God likes tepid, insipid, half-hearted living.

As this fall kicks off, I want to be living so on the edge, living in such faith territory that every new breath is an adventure.

Perhaps a story I heard and told a few years ago will explain what I mean. I have no clue of its source, so, unknown author, please accept my apology.

Located somewhere, halfway up a steep mountain in the Swiss Alps is a famous halfway house. By halfway house I don’t mean a place for prison inmates as they prepare to re-enter society, but literally a chalet, half way up a rigorous mountain climb.

It’s usually reached about noon on the first day by hikers who enrol in the twoday climb to the mountaintop.

The group pauses there for lunch. It provides an opportunity to take off the hiking boots and rest for a while.

The owner of the lodge says it happens the same way almost every time.

About an hour after stopping for lunch, the guide instructs his climbing party to get ready to resume the climb. But, the owner says, there are always a few in the group who ask about accommodations. When they learn that it’s a full-service lodge with overnight rooms and fireplace they announce to their friends that they can go on up the mountain if they wish, but that they are staying right there at the hearth.

It’s an interesting sight, he says, to watch the folks who stay behind. As the climbers head out into the freezing weather for the brutal climb, those who remain fill the house with laughter. They tease and poke fun at the fools who are going out while they stay by the fire playing cards and eating.

That atmosphere usually lasts a couple hours. It’s a fun-loving crowd. However, as darkness begins to fall, one by one they drift over to the windows that open to the top of the mountain and begin to gaze up the hillside.

The laughter stops as they look longingly up at their companions who are just small specks at the top as they begin to pitch their tents and build campfires for the night.

The next morning, there is usually none of the laughter of the previous afternoon. No joy or excitement. They have breakfast then sit by the window till about noon when the climbing group bursts through the door to pick them up. Again it’s a marked contrast. Instead of the party crowd filling the room with laughter and excitement, it’s the ones who made the climb. They’re cold, tired and hungry, but they thrill with descriptions of the climb, the view and the sense of accomplishment.

As they leave the chalet together, the owner says, the difference in the two groups is palpable. One group can hardly wait to get to the bottom. They have a story to tell. They have something to share about a great adventure. The others, they just walk meekly behind.

Which group will describe you this fall? Are you planning to do anything that will demand your best? Will you attempt anything truly inspiring? Will you climb any mountains or cross any raging streams?

Will you step away from the security of the fireplace long enough to allow God to amaze you by the beauty and power of his guiding hand, leading you into pristine, unexplored territory?

Don’t let anything hold you back. Eschew mediocrity and go for broke.

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart as working for the Lord and not for human masters.” (St. Paul)

Tim Schroeder is a pastor at Trinity Baptist Church.