The View from the Top
It’s been 41 years since Marty and I served together as missionary companions in Cambridge, England, through April/May of 1985.
Yesterday, as part of our visit to Philadelphia, we stopped at one of the city’s most iconic landmarks, the Rocky statue outside the Museum of Art.
Like countless visitors before us, and just like Rocky some 50 years ago, I couldn’t resist running up the famous steps.
Standing at the top, looking out across the city skyline, I found myself reflecting on how different the view looks depending on where you stand in life.
One of the things I love about the Rocky story is that it was never really about boxing. It was about perseverance and refusing to quit. About becoming something more than you were before. In the movie, I remember Rocky raising his arms in triumph at the top of the stairs.
Yet, what we sometimes forget is that the view only came after the challenges and the climb.
As I stood there with Marty, my mind drifted back to those days in Cambridge. Two young missionaries with plenty of enthusiasm, very little experience, and absolutely no idea where life would eventually take us. Back then, almost everything lay ahead of us.
Careers, marriage, children, challenges, successes, disappointments, lessons – life!
Like many young people, we spent most of our time looking forward.
Now, four decades later, there is also value in looking back.
Later in the afternoon, we smiled and laughed as I shared some entries together from my missionary journal from all those years ago.
Looking back helps us see things we could never fully appreciate at the time.
The prayers that were answered, the disappointments that became blessings and our friendship that has flourished.
This morning, my thoughts are turning from looking back to looking forward once again.
In a few hours’ time, we begin a Church History Tour with around 100 young 16- to 19-year-olds. They may not even know much about Rocky, but perhaps that doesn’t matter.
Yet, they are at an exciting stage of life, standing at the bottom of their own staircase, with dreams to pursue, lessons to learn and experiences still to come.
They cannot yet see the view from the top.
What stories will they tell? What lessons will they learn? After all it is the climb that creates them.
Forty-one years ago, Marty and I stood in much the same place.
Looking back now, I am grateful we kept climbing.
Every generation has its own staircase to climb. What does yours look like today?
