The following comes from “UP: Lenten Journey, 2017”

The trail curved around the alpine ridge and it started to decline. At this point, we would turn away from the view of Mt. Rainier that accompanied us up the ridge trail. Now we would be looking out across the vast valley and unnamed purple-hewed peaks in the distance. Descending, I could feel the muscles in my legs ache in different places. The pace of the hike slowed with a sense of caution. There were no guard rails. If you fell at this point, there would not be much to stop your falling, perhaps fatally, down the mountainside.

Ahead, the rocky and dirt trail disappeared into a large snow field. On the way up the ridge, this happened for a brief spell. Snow at this altitude has little motivation to melt. The snow field that met us on our ascent was fun and somewhat whimsical. Imagine, snow in July! It remained on a somewhat gentle slope. Previous hikers had cut a clear path through the snow/ice. Though there were no guardrails to stop a downward tumble, it didn’t seem likely to happen here. However, on the other side of the ridge, which the width of the mountain originally prevented us from seeing, the snow field was a different story.

Instead of a short snow crossing, the snow field was at least two city blocks long! What is more, the slope on which the snow rested increased significantly. “Oh Boy,” said I to myself. To add additional challenge and complexity to the situation, the path cut through the snow was extremely narrow. Evidently, the number of hikers that traveled this way was fewer. Either that or their feet were smaller!

It would be good to mention that we weren’t alone on this hike. Although the Lichtenberger Four was a solitary expedition, throughout the day, we saw others. Maybe a couple of dozen people were also out enjoying the trails. When we approached the steep snowfield (which also didn’t have any guardrails, safety nets, or fence to prevent a rapid descent into the valley), there were others around. We just passed a church group (you could tell from their Jesus sweatshirts; besides, pastors are somewhat easy to spot). Halfway through the snowfield was a group that matched our size. We would wait until they made it through until we started down the treacherous terrain.

I should mention at this point that all the members of the Lichtenberger Four party had hiking sticks. Over the years, over many trails, I have found a hiking stick to be an essential piece of gear. With a hiking stick in hand, you have better balance and can navigate tricky spots. The snowfield we faced on that high altitude trail certainly qualified as a ‘tricky spot.’ Carefully we stuck our hiking sticks into the snow above and began the crossing. Leaning upward, slowly we place one boot in front of the other. Looking down (though I did from time to time) was not a good idea. Slow. Steady. Forward. At one point, we encountered a group of hikers on their way up that were in too much of a hurry to wait for us to clear the field. We stopped, leaned on our sticks, and let the impatient ones walk downhill around us.

Eventually, we accomplished our goal; we made it safely through! Yay! I must confess, at that point, I was ready to give a press conference to the National Geographic folks – the adventurer self-image that lives in my imagination doubled in size. Seriously, the hike that had treated us to such wonderful views of Mt. Rainier blessed us with an adventure that would not soon be forgotten.

As the trail left the snowfield behind, we came to a sign that someone posted in the middle of the trail. From the direction we were traveling, you could not see what it read. Curious, we looked on the other side. With an ironic chuckle, we read; “Caution: Steep Icy Slopes Ahead. Ice Axe Recommended.” Sometimes, you just have to laugh.

Our spirituality, from time to time, would benefit from a chuckle or too. Life can be, after all, absurd. It doesn’t make sense and trying to wrestle meaning out of every last minute is funny. What is more, the contradictions in life provide abundant fodder for our very own late-night comedy sketch. A perpetually serious demeanor holds to the lie that an undisturbed order and meaning undergirds everything. Some call it purpose and maintain that it drives meaningful and successful lives. Really? Ha!

Such thinking ignores or tries to explain away the rough places where life is unfair or doesn’t quite add up. If God is the provider of purpose, then God must also be the provider of tragedy. Do we want to go there?

What if instead of carefully constructed order and meaning to the universe (and our lives) and resting in a comfortable corner office while creation figures it all out, God is in the midst of the absurdities and contradictions. The cross locates Divine presence in the very place of contradiction; God chooses the deadly cross to be a place of life rather than a place of death. Absurd. So absurd, in fact, that it brings the kind of laughter that welcomes unfathomable joy.