Eye on the Prize
Blog / Produced by The High Calling
“Take a step. You can do it,” the instructor called out from far below. I was riveted to the pole top at the beginning of the ropes course. This was a bonding weekend for my fellow psychology interns and me, and surely it would be, I thought, if we survived.
Before me, a log stretched upward, suspended in space, leading to a tightrope between two even taller poles. Although logically I knew I was to walk up the log, my body clearly obeyed the physics of gravity, and my feet stayed planted. It seemed impossible to walk the incline without falling. My alternative, however, was to give up and climb back down as friends and advisors looked on. So, I took a deep breath, praying it would not be my last, and stepped out.
To my delight, if I didn’t look down, and if I put one foot slowly in front of the other while repeating, “You can do it,” I maintained balance. So much for physics! I arrived at the next section, a tightrope, and began to inch along. With only a thin wire above my head for balance, I constantly teetered. I was in deep concentration and halfway across when the instructor’s voice called out the name of my mother, who had been diagnosed with cancer two days before. My body crumpled and I caught myself just before falling. Then the instructor began to call out coping phrases I had written down before the ropes course: “Lo, I am with you always,” “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Hearing the passages, I resolved not just to avoid falling, but to meet the challenge, complete the course. Slowly I stood up and began to edge forward, reciting the Scriptures to myself. The instructor continued to test me with problem words, and I repeatedly lost balance. But when I steered my focus to the next platform rather than the words ringing out, or my fear of falling, composure returned.
I finished the course that morning, swinging off the final platform with a whoop of triumph, the euphoria of an accomplishment hard won. From the starting pole to the final wire, I learned that fear and worry are potent distracters, with the power to shake me off course and pull me from my goals. The years since that day have held many challenges, but I have remembered the lessons I learned on the physical ropes. With my eyes fixed on my priorities, and my mind steadfastly on Christ, I find the strength, and I do not fall.
Before me, a log stretched upward, suspended in space, leading to a tightrope between two even taller poles. Although logically I knew I was to walk up the log, my body clearly obeyed the physics of gravity, and my feet stayed planted. It seemed impossible to walk the incline without falling. My alternative, however, was to give up and climb back down as friends and advisors looked on. So, I took a deep breath, praying it would not be my last, and stepped out.
To my delight, if I didn’t look down, and if I put one foot slowly in front of the other while repeating, “You can do it,” I maintained balance. So much for physics! I arrived at the next section, a tightrope, and began to inch along. With only a thin wire above my head for balance, I constantly teetered. I was in deep concentration and halfway across when the instructor’s voice called out the name of my mother, who had been diagnosed with cancer two days before. My body crumpled and I caught myself just before falling. Then the instructor began to call out coping phrases I had written down before the ropes course: “Lo, I am with you always,” “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Hearing the passages, I resolved not just to avoid falling, but to meet the challenge, complete the course. Slowly I stood up and began to edge forward, reciting the Scriptures to myself. The instructor continued to test me with problem words, and I repeatedly lost balance. But when I steered my focus to the next platform rather than the words ringing out, or my fear of falling, composure returned.
I finished the course that morning, swinging off the final platform with a whoop of triumph, the euphoria of an accomplishment hard won. From the starting pole to the final wire, I learned that fear and worry are potent distracters, with the power to shake me off course and pull me from my goals. The years since that day have held many challenges, but I have remembered the lessons I learned on the physical ropes. With my eyes fixed on my priorities, and my mind steadfastly on Christ, I find the strength, and I do not fall.
The demands, pressures and stress of work can put a huge strain on relationships with our coworkers. This 4-day plan from Theology of Work Project and Workmatters provides simple steps you can take to be more loving to your coworkers that will transform those relationships and increase both joy and productivity at work.