My Name Is In The Book

Today I sit in the snow and I am freezing cold. I open the box; pull out the little book inside. I flip through the book to the next empty line and I sign my name and write the date. I pass the book to my buddy and he enters his John Hancock. We close the book, put it back in the metal box and shut the lid. There, we’ve done it. Mission accomplished. My name is in the book! What a great feeling. Anyone else combing through the pages will see my name, scribbled among so many others.

This is my third attempt to write my name in this book. I failed the first two tries, but have finally succeeded. I’m proud of the effort and determination I was able to muster to write my name here. I sit for a few minutes with a deep sense of satisfaction. My buddy and I shake hands and congratulate each other. Physically this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I did it just to get my name in that book. After a short time we pick up our gear and head back down the mountain trail.

The metal box with the book sits at the summit of Mount Shasta; just over 14,500 feet above sea level. I’ve finally summited on my third try.

My first attempt was two years ago. We were camping nearby and tried to summit because it looked fun. After getting about half way between base camp and the summit my son and I turned back, realizing we were ill prepared for the wind and cold. The second attempt was last year. I made it to the base of Agony Hill, about two miles from the summit. I was out of water and dehydrated. I turned back disgusted with my lack of planning and preparation. But I knew I should not go on.

This year I trained harder. I hiked the Cool canyon many more times. I was in better physical shape. I also prepared myself mentally. I was determined to not turn back for any reason. We woke up at base camp this morning at 3:30 am, ate a light bite of bagel and peanut butter, then, with headlamp on, we started up the steep slope. We found the tracks of the hard core climbers who left base camp an hour before us. We followed their trail and used their steps in the snow. The wind howled, altitude sickness set in, the pre-dawn air was crisp. But we kept a steady pace. When the sun came up we began to sweat more. The wind made the sweat turn cold. But we kept going. We climbed Agony Hill, dropped our back packs, and could see the summit ahead. A few hundred yards from the top we dropped our outer gear to lighten our load as much as possible. We climbed the last of the trail and spotted the metal box. We sat, rested, drank some water, and wrote our names in the book.

It took so much time, energy, preparation, and determination to get my name in that book. It made me excited and proud to know that I had accomplished something significant and it was recorded for posterity.

My name is also in another book; a better book. In this book I don’t actually scribble my name, someone else writes me in. In order for my name to be in this book someone had to climb a mountain. Not a snow covered mountain but one covered in trash and smoldering ashes. That mountain was name Galgotha. Jesus was the climber. He didn’t carry a backpack full of food and drink, but instead carried a wooded cross up that mountain. I know it was physically the hardest thing He had ever done. He was exhausted, bleeding, hurting, fainting as He climbed.

But He was prepared to summit Galgotha. He had the strength of the Father and the angels behind Him. When He summited there was no box, there was no book. There were Roman soldiers who took Him and nailed Him to the cross He carried. For six hours He hung on that crossed, then He breathed His last, and died.

Jesus scaled that mountain so that my name could be written in His book. Instead of opening the book of success and writing His name He opened the book and wrote my name, and your name. He climbed the mountain of Galgotha in my place, in your place. He accomplished that feat so our names could be in that precious Book of Life.

As a result of my name in His book I am guaranteed a spot in His everlasting kingdom. He never erases names from His book. Those names are forever the roll call of heaven. I am so glad that I did not have to climb His mountain. I would have turned back every time. I’m also so grateful that He summited Galgotha and that He did not giver in or give up. And when He cracked open the summit book He wrote my name, and your name, and every name of those men and women who have given their lives to Christ. AMEN!

Jesus was the greatest mountain climber of all time.

I need to get moving. I need to descend to where it is warmer and I can breathe easier.

If you’re ever at the summit of Mount Shasta, and you are writing your name in the book, flip back a few pages and see if you can find my name there. Before you head down, pause a moment and thank Jesus for climbing His mountain so many years ago. And thank Him for writing your name in His summit book, the Book of Life.

I love being your Pastor. See you on Sunday.

Pastor Phil