Mountain Climbing and Germs

We often meet new people and form opinions of them as they are "now" without knowing any back story.  The more life experience a/k/a age we have, the more the back story helps to fill in some blanks.

I am going to backtrack a little bit and give some of my testimony- a little background in my life. I want to share where my personal faith journey began.  I want to share where my faith became my own and not just an idea borne of sitting in church on Sunday with my parents and going to youth group because it was "what everyone else did." 

I grew up going to church. Many Sundays when visiting my grandmother, a devout Catholic, I would go with her to church. It was the "right" thing to do and I followed without question. My mother, though she grew up Catholic, was not as devout and she had married a Protestant so she didn't often go to Mass.    Later, I started attending church more often with my parents- a Methodist church. More of my friends went there and it was more social.  I "believed" in God, after all I couldn't answer many of the mysteries of life in any other rational way.  Plus, my parents and grandparents went to church. Why shouldn't I?
 

When I reached high school, Young Life came into my life.  It was held in the homes of our friends and leaders.   Our Young Life group started pretty small. For the most part, our group was comprised of affluent kids. I am sure that some of the people who attended Young Life with me were planning to go to "elite" colleges where it really mattered what your extra-curricular activities looked like.  Yes, I am old enough that when I was in school, extracurricular activities were more about fun and enjoyment that boosting your resume' or college application.

In my junior year of high school, I had my first serious boyfriend and my grades slipped enough that I had to attend summer school. I was mortified. I had always maintained pretty good grades. I was an A/B student, and suddenly I had to attend summer school for two classes between my junior and senior years.   Just before school ended that year,  we found out that leadership for our Young Life group was planning a trip to Frontier Ranch in Colorado, and I was certain I would miss that trip due to my time in summer school.  There was NO logical reason my parents would ever consent to something that wonderful considering how poorly I had done in school. I knew they were disappointed.

Apparently God had other plans for me, and by some stroke of divine intervention I found myself on that plane with the rest of our Young Life group bound for Frontier Ranch in Buena Vista, Colorado. As we touched down in Colorado, I remember thinking to myself "So this is what they mean when they say God painted the sky."  It was unlike anything I had ever seen and I was just mesmerized by the beautiful mountains and the amazing wide open landscapes.  The cool temperatures and lack of humidity were a welcome change as well. 

We met so many people from different walks of life. There was one kid from Kansas City, Missouri.  He called himself "Germs" but his real name was Jeremy.  He seemed like "trouble"- wearing "goth" looking clothes and putting off an air of "don't care" and "can't make me," but he had these really kind eyes that just showed compassion and a need to be more.   He was pretty skeptical of me and my well-groomed and cheerleader-like friends.  He came from an area where "Young Life" was more a "Second chance" ministry for kids who were in trouble and "needed God" in their lives. He was really funny.  Looking back on it now, he is the only person I remember from that week. It was clear that I was to learn something from Germ. He didn't look the part of a choirboy by any means, but man could he sing and he could play drums like nobody's business.  He knew all of the words to the worship songs and the praise flowed out of him like a river.

 
Close to the end of the week we went on a hike up a large mountain and once we arrived to the top of the mountain, we would need to rappel back down one level.  I got to the top after much stumbling and grumbling, and nursing a hole where a stick poked me in the leg.  It was amazing, such a beautiful view. We were all hot and sweaty from working so hard, but suddenly felt this bit of cool. We could look across and see what looked like some snow on a mountain in the distance.  Germs and I looked at those mountains for a good 15 minutes and then we were called to rappel down. I was so scared and I just stood there crying. I didn't want to drop backwards off that mountain even though I knew it was necessary.   Germs went before me and once he had gone down, he waited and I remember him calling out to me "You can't stay there forever. You have to come down to tell people what we saw."  Finally I let go and trusted, leaned back and scooted down to the waiting area.   Germs and I walked down the mountain together and contemplated what it was going to be like to go back to our lives.  Would we tell what we learned? Would we always carry that mountaintop experience with us?   His last statement to me was the one that really hit me and stuck with me. He asked "Now that we are off the mountain, you will probably just go back to your rich friends and forget everything God showed you. " 

That's what happens when we go away on retreat. We bond. We experience our "great love of Christ" and we recognize each other as brothers and sisters in Christ, but do we truly carry the Gospel and compassion out into our communities?   Do we engage with those people who are not like us? Do we remember that the guy with the grungy tee-shirt and ripped up jeans and black finger nail polish is a brother in Christ?  I promised Germ I would not forget him and I would always make sure to give people a chance.  We kept up with each other for many years, until we both graduated from college and then life got in the way.

So Germs got into my mind and my heart and my soul as I climbed the mountain that day. I climbed the mountain that week- the mountain of doubts, of true faith, of accepting others just as they are.   It's so easy to get back to "base camp" and wash away the Germs in our life and just move on, but sometimes they take up a place inside of us and never truly leave.

Anytime I doubt or feel hopeless, I mentally still find my way back to that mountaintop in Colorado. I smell the leaves and the campfires. I see the beautiful God painted vistas. I hear the singing of our worship leaders and the voice of a good friend who calls me back to Christ by reminding me not to wash away Germs.

I gave my testimony many times after that, and almost every time during my college years I would get a phone call or a letter from Germs to remind me that he was still around.  I have not heard from him in years now, but I hope he is still infecting others with his love of God.