Do One Thing that Scares You

"Do one thing every day that scares you," Eleanor Roosevelt is famously reported to have said. I sat in the chair lift as it passed the no return load off point, and tried not to look behind me. I thought of Eleanor's advice,and wondered about the wisdom of it.

This ski trip, the kids chose to go to the top of the mountain. Having done it once by accident, now they knew they could do it. I watched them ski down a lower slope and since the snow was so mooshy and slow in the 60 degree day, gave them permission to ski the summit.

As I watched them go on the chair lift that climbed to the moon, I sidled over to one of the chair lift operators.
"Can I get off half way?"
"Sure," he said, "That is the easy slope. Then you can go 2/3rds up and that is a blue slope (more difficult). Or go all the way to the top. You can do blue or black diamond, the slope that mostly young males with haywire hormones try."
(He didn't say that last part, but that is the truth, nonetheless.)
So, I got on the lift, and watched carefully for the first load off point. I got off and skied easily down the easy slope. I got back on the chair lift. As the first load off point neared, I squeezed my sweaty palms around the chair lift handle.
"Do one thing every day that scares you," I recited.
At the second load off point, 2/3rds up the mountain, I got off. It was very high. I felt a little dizzy but went to talk to the chair lift attendant.
"Which is the easiest way down?"
He pointed to the right.
I headed to the right. It was definitely more of a challenge than the first stop, but I made it down going slowly, zig zagging down the mountain.
With a deep breath, I got back on the chair lift. It might be our last day of skiing this year and we would never get softer, slower snow. If I was ever going to summon the nerve to go to the top of the mountain, it was on a day like today.

The chair lift rose to the first load off. I watched it slide away, wistfully.
It approached the second load off.
"Get off, get off!" my mind shouted.
"Do one thing that scares you every day!"
"I already did one thing", I countered," I skied from the highest point I have yet been."
"GET OFF! GET OFF!"
The battle raged in my head, my eyeballs clanging back and forth. The last-chance bail out point approached. I started to raise the lift bar to unload.
"No, if I don't do it now, I may never dare."
My last chance to bail slid away beneath my feet as the chair lift rose at a sharply steeper angle now up the mountain. I glanced up at the summit, but it made me queasy so i tried to look to the sides. A creek gurgled over rocks, splashing in rivulets down the mountain, fueled by the melting snow. I felt the slight dizziness of vertigo, which had been my concern going to the top. I am afraid of heights. It is irrational, and at times overwhelming. I hate to be a victim of fear. I prayed quickly as the top of the mountain unload point approached. With a deep breath, I lifted the bar and slid off the chair lift to the mountain top.

Standing on the summit, I could see endless rows of blue mountains stretching to the horizon. The sun beams dipped and cavorted into valleys, creating patchwork shadows and light. It was beautiful, though at first, I could just glimpse at it for brief moments before the dizziness struck. If I just looked a few feet ahead of me, I didn't feel dizzy.
"Excuse me," I asked a young lady, getting ready to ski down, "Would you take a picture of me with that view in the background? This is my first time up here, and my family is never going to believe it."
She happily obliged and told me, "The snow up here is much better than down below. It is not a hard trail. You will love it."
Was my fear that obvious?
I knew that if I stood on the pinnacle very long, I might faint, or lose nerve. So I pulled down my goggles, and pushed over the edge.

The first section was relatively easy. It was a switchback so the only steep sections were at the banked curves. Since it switched back amidst the trees, I could not see the whole scary downhill panorama. I gained confidence. The next section was steep, but the snow was so soft that it was easy to do slow zigzags down. Then I hit the section that opened up to the full view of the valley. I forced myself to look up occasionally to see the beauty of God's world laid out before me.
"This is why people overcome fear to ski from the top," I thought.
I hit a rut then, lost my balance, and fell, for the first time ever skiing. It was a slow, easy fall, and didn't hurt at all. I stood right back up, brushed off the slushy snow, and continued down. And at the bottom, I skied right back to the chair lift and got on again.

There are many sections in the Bible that deal with fear. It is a universal human condition, and ultimately, can be traced to one source, the fear of loss and death. But throughout scripture, we are reminded that only one thing is worthy of fear, and it is not death. It is the One who overcame death, who holds all existence in His hand. Strangely enough, many of us do not fear Him, with a holy fear based on acknowledging who He is and what He has the power to accomplish.

As the kids and I gathered together again for dinner, I told them, "I went to the top of the mountain."
They all looked up.
"I have proof," I said, showing them the photo on my phone.
"Oh that's photoshopped," said one.
"That's a stunt double," said another.
"Is it ok if I do the black diamond run next?" asked a third.

Hebrews 2:14-15
Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.




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