I watched an incredible mountain race this past Saturday in Girdwood. The race is part of a national mountain racing program called the Cirque Series, wherein intrepid and profoundly physically fit racers compete against themselves and one another in places like Arapahoe Basin, Colorado, and Snowbird, Utah. The upcoming Colorado race is an 8.8-mile circuit climbing 2,411 feet of elevation, even while beginning the race at 10,000 feet, where the air is already treacherously thin. The already past Snowbird race consisted of a shorter 8.7 miles, starting at a mere 8,000 feet of elevation but with a 3,610-foot climb and descent. We Alaskans do know a little about such undertakings because we have the famous Fourth of July Mount Marathon race. We love and appreciate—and RESPECT—the runners every year!

My son, Matthew, competed in the Girdwood race on Saturday, which, in keeping with the limits-pushing rigors of all the Cirque Series events, called for a 6.2-mile round trip up and down, covering 3,890 feet of elevation to conquer. Matt ran a great race “for fun” with a few of his firefighter buddies and finished in under two hours. I find myself particularly impressed with Matt—and, in fact, ALL of the men and women (and even a seven-year-old kid)—who undertake such a physically and mentally demanding challenge because my wife has me climbing much lesser peaks this summer. We’ve committed to a “Peak a Week,” and so far, I’ve managed to hoist my 67-year-old carcass up several local peaks. To be sure, I am slow and profoundly unimpressive. On busy days, people pass me like I’m standing still.

What I have concluded about this summer’s experience is that going up is hard. I mean, really hard at times. Gravity works that way in God’s perfect design of His overwhelmingly awesome universe. Going up requires effort, and we experience pain pushing against it. We must work and make choices to overcome gravity’s inexorable downward pull. We are confronted with decisions in the moment, which, we hope, will adhere to commitments we’ve made in a time of strength. We must push past the temptation to succumb to the hard and choose the easy instead. My thoughts go to quitting and defeat much more readily than I want to admit. My excuse factory begins to kick in as my lungs and legs start even the slightest burn.

However, what I have also concluded about climbing peaks these past weeks is that, like so many things in life, it is the overcoming of the hard where all the reward is found. “Summiting” is rewarding beyond words if you can call making the top of Flattop Peak 2 a summit at a mere 1,750 feet of elevation gain. So, I want to say in this blog that climbing peaks is a metaphor for our Christian walk of sanctification.

According to God’s Word, we Christians know that Saving Faith comes by grace alone, through faith alone, in the person and work of Christ alone, according to Scripture alone, to the glory of God alone. Salvation is a sovereign work of God in us that results in a change of status—we are seen as family members and no longer God’s enemies lost in our sin, and in a new mission that we’re called to, which is to grow and mature into ever-deepening Christlikeness, while also pursuing the Great Commission to tell others about Jesus. The doctrinal term for our change of status before God is redemption. The doctrinal term for growing in Christ while on mission for Him is sanctification.

My thought in this blog is that sanctification is often, if not always, like hiking upward. It is “going up” and “going up” is hard. Living in this wicked world as a Christian is hard. Fighting our sinful nature, which stays with us even in our salvation in Christ, is hard. I loathe my wicked thoughts and impulses that I must nail to the cross of Christ daily.

But we can choose to keep going up! We can also decide to try again when we fail to keep going up because God has promised to us that He will get us to the summit—the summit He has chosen for us before taking us home to glory! Of course, we will feel the pain and struggle with the temptation to quit, but the reward of persevering is well worth it. The reward is pleasing God and loving Him eternally in glory, as it says in James 1:2-4:

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

R. Kent Hughes talks about this principle in his Book, Disciplines of a Godly Man when he says:

“For men who claim the name of Christ, there are two distinct courses of life available. One is to cultivate a small heart. This by far seems the safest way to go because it minimizes the sorrows of life. If our ambition is to dodge the troubles of human existence, the formula is simple: avoid entangling relationships, do not give yourself to others, and be sure not to seriously embrace elevated and noble ideals”… “This is how so many people, even those who profess to be Christians, get through life with such ease – they have successfully nurtured smallness of heart. The other path is to cultivate a ministering heart. Open yourself to others, and you will become susceptible to an index of sorrows scarcely imaginable to a shriveled heart. Enlarge and ennoble your ideals, and your vulnerability will increase proportionately” … “Of course, the effects of these two kinds of hearts are drastically different. Little hearts, though safe and protected, never contribute anything. No one benefits from their restricted sympathies and vision. On the other hand, hearts that have embraced the disciplines of ministry – though they are vulnerable – are also the hearts which possess the most joy and leave their heartprint on the world.”

R. Kent Hughes, Disciplines of a Godly Man, Paperback Edition, 211-212.

Brothers and Sisters in Christ, going up is hard. But going up is the exact path God wants to grow, bless, and fully and completely love you. Keep going up!