About one month ago, I found myself on top of a mountain for a Sunday service. As I was hiking to the top of the mountain I notice the cabin below. I took a picture on the way back and thought about the men who built the trail. At the end of the trail there was a marker memorializing 3 men who died while building the trail. In the 30’s these men sacrificed their live to earn a meager existence building trails as part of the CCC. Below is a shack they used to store dynamite.
In the 30’s, people in our country sacrificed to attend church. As I sat on the log listening to the message, I pondered the ~3 hour hike up the mountain. I thought about my normal Sunday morning routine and the ease at which I go to church.
How little we have to sacrifice in-order to worship. Take a lazy morning with a good breakfast. Rush to get ready, speed to church and walk in casually. Yet this morning, I was up at 5:30. Out the door by 6:00 and carpooling with Andrew by 6:30. Arrived at the mountain ~7:15 and started hiking 7:30. After a several thousand foot ascent up a few miles of trail, we arrived at the site of the service. It seemed like a long trip just for a church service.
I’ve always heard that if you want to find out what it was like 50 or sixty years ago, travel to a third world country. On several missions trips to Mexico I met believers who traveled ~8 hours one way to their fellowship, every Sunday. If that is anything like it was like in the 30’s in our country, how little we sacrifice.
I wonder in what ways I could sacrifice and become more mature in my travel to church.