The Cruelty of Comfort Zones


Yesterday morning, Lina and I went for a hike down at Kelly's Run. It is a fairly rigorous 4 mile hike taking experienced hikers about two hours. The creek was high, the rocks slippery, and the trail had a hint of danger at points. Before leaving, we had considered skipping the hike and going down to a local trail that circles Lake Grubb. A fine little hike but one that has minimal challenge or scenery that is new. The day had started late and our buddy Rob called off due to a cold, so the conditions for cancellation of Kelly were set. We decided against it.

I am embarrassed to confess that I missed several turn offs along the way down to Kelly's Run. I thought I knew the directions better than I did. I really have no excuse. I pondered then how it would have just been much easier for us to go to Grubb. Safe, simple, no reminders of how poor a sense of direction I have. I typically map out everything ahead of time if I have a doubt. Where I erred was thinking that I knew the way there better than I did. Whenever such things happen, I hate myself.

However, we arrived at Kelly's Run no worse for wear. I did know enough of the route there to know when I was off track, so it could have been worse. The hike itself was phenomenal. It was a bright sunny day in South Central Pennsylvania, unusually balmy. Thus, we were sweaty quite profusely as our dress was more geared for colder temps. Along the hike itself, I reflected out loud how we would have missed all of the delights of the hike if we had opted for the much less demanding Lake Grubb hike. Like the kiddie coaster at the amusement park rather than the kick-ass killer coaster.

I vowed aloud that in 2012 we should take more risks and stop playing it so safe. The problem with taking risks is that it exposes us to a lack of control, reveals our weaknesses (often to others), and perhaps could even be dangerous. We crave the cruelty of the comfort zone because complacency kills us softy rather than quickly. The couch and TV act as the head and the tail of a technological boa constrictor which smothers us in smoothness until we cannot breathe and die with a whimper. Chips in hand. Less redemption, more reruns.

When Judgement Day comes, I think that there may be a spread sheet of sorts that compares the time we had versus what we did with the time. It will be pretty horrifying to see how much time was wasted with entertainment just because we were bored. The miracle of life beaten down into the mundane, meaningless, and mendacious.

May it not be so in 2012. Live out loud. Make your dust dance.

Psalm 103:14

For he knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust.



         


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