(I wrote this a few years back when I was having a rough day as a computer programmer. It would eventually change the course of my life.)
After camping on a mountain ledge, there are only 3 ways off: (1) Go up; (2) Go down; (3) Die.
Some make it to the ledge and having reached their goal promptly head down. Others stumble onto the ledge after wandering haplessly up the path. Of those who happen upon the ledge, chances are that many will remain. These are satisfied to have made it somewhere, having no clear destination in mind. Perhaps others, like yourself, find that after spending some time of the ledge, you like it there. Besides, it would be ridiculous to climb into the clouds of uncertainty that hover continually above your ledge. Content to remain on the ledge, you inform your loved ones that you have happily settled.
From your plateau you exude sainthood, but there is only so much good you can do. When other climbers stop on your ledge, you kindly offer food and encouragement. But somewhere deep, you resent the fact that others are forging beyond where you have settled. In fact, you sometimes discourage climbers from continuing onward. You boast of your beautiful ledge with its spectacular view, willfully blind to the fact that one can behold both breathtaking sides of the mountain from the top.
You encourage mediocrity by telling others that they should be content with what they have accomplished. Unfortunately, you succeed far too often and many of those pressing forward decide to remain with you. Even sadder, many head down proclaiming that it is not worth it to reach the top.
For those climbers who continue to climb but do not reach the top, you taunt them with your cries of, “I told you so!” For the rare climber who does attain the summit, you jealously ignore him as he describes the amazing view from the top. On the even rarer occasion when you actually listen to his story, you stubbornly declare that while the top may be great for him, you are perfectly satisfied on your little ledge with its “half” view. And to others listening, you argue that they should not try because they are not as talented or strong as those who have made it. Thus, you persist on your shrinking ledge, crowded by the countless other worshipers of mediocrity.
At some point you feel the slight, almost imperceptible, nudge of memory, reminding you that you were once headed for the summit. These reminders rekindle your desire to reach the top. Soon you find that you can think of nothing but standing on the mountain peak. Before long, you choose to pursue the summit.
At first, you find it difficult to muster the ambition to break from those who would hold you on the plateau of mediocrity. But you must not allow them to convince you of the baseless merits of continued apathy and cynicism.
Undaunted, but uncertain, you climb into the clouds. The climbing is the most difficult yet.
You struggle for oxygen and at times ponder on the ease of mediocrity. From time to time, you even look longingly back toward the ledge. But the clouds obstruct your view. Nevertheless, you know that it is there, an easy retreat.
The clouds similarly block your view to the summit. You feel more uncertain about heading up, not sure it will be worth it. But, with an eye single to your goal, you painstakingly climb onward.
Suddenly the clouds break and you see the summit only a few yards beyond the clouds. Hurriedly, you work to cover the remaining feet. From the top, you take in God’s glorious creations in a spectacular panoramic view. You decide that although the view was beautiful from the plateau where so many stopped, that view was in the end only mediocre compared to the view from the top.
Grateful for your new view, you humbly thank God for giving you the resolve to endure to the end and for making your weakness strong.