The opening sequence of the James Bond film A View to a Kill involves a thrilling ski chase down the icy slopes of a mountain in Siberia. The 007 spy graciously glides and smoothly swerves on an improvised snowboard to evade pursuing enemies with all the iconic action set to the background music of the Beach Boys’ California Girls.
That is how I envisioned my first downhill snow ski on White Mountain. Some winter enthusiasts would not describe my mountainous descent as skiing.
I quickly transitioned to another James Bond classic, You Only Live Twice! White Mountain snow became a burial site for my Black-and-Blue Ego.
I grew up in a small Midwestern town near beautiful lakes which became the playground for boating and water-skiing. The ease with which my younger brothers could pop out of the water and slalom across the lake forced me to be an adaptive learner.
It did not take exceptionally long for me to learn the difference in water and snow skiing. At the lake, you lean backward. That style causes awkward out-of-control falls on the ski slope. There you lean in over the top of your skis and there is no going back.
I pictured myself sipping hot cocoa beside the fireplace at the ski lodge instead of wildly careening down the mountainside at breakneck speed.
When our leader declared it was time to “hit the slopes,” I took his admonition literally. I hit the slopes so many times I had bruises on my bruises.
I wore my new jeans and a wind breaker. I did not want to be overdressed. No one advised me to scotch-guard my blue jeans. I left the hillside with patches of blue-dyed snow, and the mountain left me with icy wet clothing.
Someone loaned me a jacket, beanie, gloves, and goggles. I rented the rest of the ski ensemble. I wrestled with getting into my rental ski boots. Closing the clamps sounded like the Clydesdale horses traveling a brick road with a limp.
I stood in a lengthy line for a ride on the ski lift. It looked as if the people had enough gear for a fortnight in Norway.
I awkwardly shuffled onto the lift, unaware it was not headed to the bunny slope. The lift creaked to a stop at the very top. The wind howled. I slid off the chair—sort of. I tumbled off, skis going one way, hat the other.
I needed assistance just to recover from the full split that left me painfully planted in the snow powder. The thrill of it all is the realization that I paid someone for a ski lift ride up the mountain so I could freefall all the way back down.
As we reached the summit, I noticed the black diamond sign, “Experts Only.” The sign’s skull and crossbones really set the mood. Think steeper and more hazardous.
Expert. Ex-describes “a has been” while spirt signifies “a small drip.” I am qualified.
My friend took off as he yelled, “There is only one way to go!”
George leaned forward and he was gone, rocketing down the black diamond graveyard like a hyper-charged penguin on Red Bull with flapping poles and flying snow. He was gracefully magnificent as he whizzed out of sight.
I eventually pulled my gear and my heart together as I got my first peek of the view from the top of the mountain. It was a vertical drop into oblivion. Tiny dots—actual expert skiers—zipped gracefully down the run as if auditioning to be extras in the James Bond snow-themed action movie.
The sweet singing sound of Karen Carpenter filled my mind.
I’m on the top of the world,
lookin’ down on creation,
And the only explanation I can find...I am so stupid!
This was a vertical ice slide for a nincompoop–Latin for “not of sound mind.” I stared at the multiple bumps on the slope. They later introduced themselves as “Moguls.” Avoid at all costs.
Where was George? He had been to the ski lodge for a cup of hot chocolate and back on the ski lift eager to make a second run. He waved at me from his chair as he passed by above. “Just let gravity do the work.”
My ski equipment did not work satisfactorily. Apparently, when the skis point downhill, they take off whether you are ready or not.
Suddenly but not intentionally, I was speeding downhill.
Torpedoes full speed ahead; I flailed in the wind and bounced like a rubber ball down the black ski trail. This is probably how all future Olympic downhill racers begin their journey to the gold medal.
My first stop was a face-plant dive into a snowbank. Exactly like it sounds, falling flat on your face, nose first.
I followed my sixth white powder pileup with an “OH-OH-7!” headfirst plunge into a snowdrift. Spectacular wipeout! I needed assistance to get upright.
My suave snow ski maneuvers included somersaults, pirouettes, and creative snow-eating dives. I left a trail of hats, poles, skis, and pride in the rear-view mirror.
I do not know how I survived my first ski trip down White Mountain. I finished the “run” with a bad limp as I traversed down the hill in those big boots looking for my runaway ski.
My mind raced as my feet trudged onward in need of a bathroom. It absolutely did not matter if it were Bunny or Expert.
In the end, I conquered White Mountain…if you count making it all the way to the bottom, skis in hand, boots on, and only minor frostbite on my pride.
My bruised backside could not diminish my triumphant spirit. I was ready to try this adventure again. On White Mountain, a snowbank holds the clear imprint of a surprised, grinning Spiro lad sliding down with arms flailing.
I left an impression on White Mountain and snow skiing left some impressions on me.
First, snow is significantly less forgiving than water.
Second, “bunny” is a better slope for flailing and flying beginners than the less traveled “expert” slope.
Third, the scene of someone snowplowing into a snowbank and buried upside down is not so funny when it is you. My attitude did not improve when a little kid stopped to offer to help me out of my embarrassing predicament.
It is amazing how many people one can meet while buried in a snowbank.
I met gawkers, advisors, paramedics, and one guy introduced himself as Saint Peter. He said something about crashing into the gate.
I also came away with spiritual lesson reminders about trusting Jesus on the slippery slopes of life.
Life can be exhilarating as well as fearful and dangerous. No one starts off as an “expert.”
When you stand at the top of a snowy mountain, no matter what degree of slope, you must trust your equipment, your training, and the path that lies ahead.
In many ways, this mirrors our walk with Jesus.
Just as a skier must lean into the slope and let go of fear in order to move forward, the #1 Textbook for life instructs us to lean into our faith and trust Jesus, even when the way seems uncertain or intimidating.
Here is some great advice for life moguls or icy slopes. Learn to pray like Jehosophat, “I do not know what to do, but my eyes are on you” (2 Chron 20:12).
We cannot control all the circumstances or minimize the unsuspected moguls. But we can learn mental balance and spiritual confidence in the Lord’s presence and guidance. A sense of rhythm and freedom comes from familiarity with the #1 Textbook.
God’s Word is all the equipment you need to mark the way to go, the path not to follow, the correction for when you made the wrong turn, and the training to love the journey (2 Timothy 3:16-17).
For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, “Do not fear; I will help you” (Isaiah 41:13).
The phrase “do not be afraid” is written in the #1 Textbook at least 365 times. Why? Because God knows we are afraid as we face new slopes in life. No one starts out as an ‘Expert’ in marriage, parenting, career, and retirement.
There are no Bunny Slopes for practice. Suddenly, you realize the ski lift of life dropped you off at a challenging spot beyond your life skill level.
Nevertheless, it is possible to successfully navigate and overcome challenges encountered throughout one’s life. You can triumph over any terrain.
Jesus invites you to release your anxieties and trust in Him as your guide, instructor, and support. Even when the path is steep or the visibility is low, you are never alone—He is with you every step of the way, even in the snowbanks.
Every day in this life is challenging. God’s Word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path (Psalm 119:105).
Not seeing the outcomes or the ending can be frightening. We can never see the entire picture of what lies ahead. God designed life for us to see a little of what is in front and around us. That is not comfortable but comforting.
As you navigate the slopes of life this week, remember to surrender your fears, trust in Jesus, and enjoy the journey He sets before you.
This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls (Hebrews 6:19).
This hope empowers your heart to pick yourself up from that last disappointing fall and get on with the journey. There are places to go and people to help. There are snowbanks of faith to be shared with fearful beginners and crippled experts.
Clip on, buckle up, lean in, and fly down this next slope of life. When the snow powder gets deep or the mountainside steep, enjoy the journey. You will have a story to tell and a God to praise.
EYES UP! SKIS STRAIGHT! FULL SPEED AHEAD!
LOVE YOU!
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope (Romans 15:13).
LOVE FIRST...LOVE MOST 