Because after watching it I could SWEAR this is exactly what I experienced at the service I attended in Colorado a few days ago.
Archive | April, 2013
One of the things I wanted to do was seek out an old mine for a longtime reader of mine, an ancient mine located deep in the mountains of Colorado that had once belonged to her grandpappy. It was located right off the tiny town of Silver Plume, and because I was covering the area as part of my tour to explore the popular ski destinations west of Denver, I decided to challenge myself with this mountain hike, beginning at roughly 9,400 feet above sea level. Piece of cake!
The trail itself was straightforward enough, although eventually I had to go off the beaten path and climb/crawl up about 100 feet more off a steep incline to find the entrance to the mine. I’m not sure how I managed it without a walking stick, but I did.
After taking a few shots of the area, it was time to hoof it back down. Only amateur hiker that I am, I hadn’t realized that I was going the wrong way, and I’m wondering to myself why this incline was so much more steeper and less steady than I remembered when I crawled up here, and wow there sure are a lot of loose rocks here- *SLIPS*
Down I went, falling flat on my back and racing down over loose debris like a sledder without his sled. I grabbed hold of a dead tree bark, which of course broke, then grabbed another dead bark, which finally arrested the slide. I lifted my head up to see nothing but 300 feet of airspace and certain death in front of me. If I had fallen forward instead of on my back, well… let’s just say that probably wouldn’t have ended well. I remembered thinking, “If my mother saw what I was doing right now she’d be very upset.”
I finally got smart again and stopped frantically trying to scale back up the incline, which was only loosening up the dirt even more, and instead dug my heels in to get better footing, while slowly feeling my way around for rocks and tree barks that were firmly wedged into the incline. I very gingerly made my way back up, until I saw the footprints of where I had originally come up, cursing to myself over how easily I could have avoided this fiasco and snaked quickly back down if I had just retraced my flipping footsteps.
Still, I made it, black and blues all over, but with the satisfaction that even as a hiking novice, I still successfully scaled halfway up a mountain at nearly 10,000 feet and discovered the ancient mine I was looking for. Who’s your daddy?
Mission accomplished, I settled into my Nissan Versa rental, downed like 20 pills of ibuprofen to dull the pain, and soon celebrated with hot cocoa at Starbucks after a drive through Keystone and into the heart of Dillon. All in all, a good day.
I had a good trip, but I think I’m going to forgo flying and rentals for a while. This whole driving to the airport, flying, picking up my rental, then dropping off my rental, flying and then driving home gets nauseous after a while, and really takes the wind out of my sails when the trip is only a few days long. Besides, after seeing so much of Colorado I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of the Adirondacks and White Mountains in its own right, especially since they’re both an easy drive away.
I originally wrote this in 2011, but posting it again here to honor David Wilkerson’s memory on the anniversary of his death.
Taking a break from my normal blogging after receiving the heartbreaking news that my favorite pastor, David Wilkerson has passed away. He died in a fatal car accident 85 miles outside of Dallas.
David Wilkerson’s ministry was the inspiration behind the book and subsequent movie, The Cross and the Switchblade many years ago, but I knew him more for his more recent works and Times Square Church Pulpit series newsletters, written sermons I’d receive every three weeks by mail. These newsletters did more to feed my soul than any church ever could.
In a time when we have used car salesmen like Rick Warren teaching fluff and polluting the gospel into a marketing campaign, Wilkerson was one of the precious few who told the hard truth, about the need for repentance, about turning away from sin, about trusting in God for all things, and that suffering and afflictions were in reality a large part of the Christian walk, despite what prosperity teachers might otherwise tell you.
I could count on one hand the voices in modern day Christendom that I could trust explicitly, and now one of those voices is gone. It’s despairing to consider the loss of somebody who’s had such a profound impact on my life, and I wonder, what do we do now? Who can I trust to feed me the word of God wholly and uncompromised in Pastor Wilkerson’s stead?
Indeed, many of the stalwarts in Christianity that I’ve grown to admire all my life are now in their twilight years, and I fear to think of what will happen once they pass on. We seem to be fast approaching a time when there will be no left to preach and teach the true gospel of Christ.
My prayers are with Wilkerson’s family, and for the speedy recovery of David Wilkerson’s wife. May God grant them much needed peace during this time of grief, and take comfort in knowing that he is now in the company of prophets and angels.
As I head into Georgetown, I am beckoned to go towards the light…
— Frank Swift (@journeyfortruth) April 26, 2013
It took some climbing, but I managed to finally crawl to the local of the old mine, which once belonged to one of my readers’ grandpappy. :-)
I’ve started uploading some photos to my Flickr set from my trip so far, feel free to check them out in the slideshow here, or visit my set directly. I’ll be uploading more as the trip goes on. Enjoy!