The Bungee Cord 10-17-22

Hello,

I am in Colorado visiting one of my sons who told me that when I pack, I need to bring a flannel shirt. For what reason, he would not say, but only that we were going up into the mountains and I needed one.

So, on Saturday, I donned my flannel shirt, hopped in his truck and off we went into the mountains. It was a crisp Denver morning, and the sky was pure blue with a bright shining sun. We didn’t take the interstate, instead he drove the “back way” up on two lane roads that wound their way through towns and woods. It was beautiful. The golden aspen trees nestled along the pines. Soft next to sharp. Boulders and brush.

We eventually arrived at our destination: a “Man of the Cliff” contest. Although it was titled “man” the contest was open to women, too. It was a contest to determine who the true mountain “men” were. So there was axe throwing, log sawing, archery, but the center of the contest was keg throwing. There were three classes for keg throwing: masters (old folks…men and women), women, and men. The object of this contest was to throw an empty keg over a high jump bar that the starting height was 10 feet. The first two classes were to toss a half-keg, and the men were to toss a full size keg. Seventy year old men and women comprised the first throwers, and most of them passed on to the second round. The women’s class was a variety of young women of various height and size. Once again, most of them passed onto the second round. As the rounds progressed, contestants were eliminated until a 79 year old man and a tall, slender young woman beat out the rest.

The men contestants were not so varied in age and stature. Each of them was of the professional wrestler mode in their 20’s or 30’s. Sporting their flannel shirts they strut their way into the arena and lined up ready to throw a full sized keg over the bar, which for them started at 12 feet. One after the other they took their place and heaved the keg, some as if they were tossing a can of beer, clearing the bar by five or six feet. We didn’t stay around to find out who the victor would be as we needed to get down the mountain, but I know that had I entered that contest, I would have been far from being the “Man of the Cliff”.

Now, I don’t wear flannel every day, nor do I go regularly to “Man of the Cliff” contests, but I do find myself daily caught up in a competition judging me; judging my wisdom, judging my kindness, judging my status, judging my weight, judging my work. I may not be throwing beer kegs over a high jump bar, but at the end of every day my shoulders feel the weight of tossing life’s challenges over a bar. Sometimes the bar has been set low enough for me to heave life’s keg over the bar, and sometimes I even clear it with room to spare. But on other days, either the bar is too high, or the keg is too heavy making me a failure and sending me outside the competition ring and I fall far short of being dubbed “Man of the Cliff”.

But though I have won no “Man of the Cliff” trophy for my muscular deeds, I own a trophy for something far better. I am a “Man of the Cross.” God, whose muscles tower over even the mightiest of beings, has tossed me over a Good Friday cross, landed me in a stone sealed grave, and then picked me up out of the ground, victorious forever. I, whose painful deeds are heavier than the Clydesdales pulling a load of beer kegs, have been crucified with Christ (Gal. 2) and raised up to live with him forever. I am a “Man of the Cross”, marked with the cross on the day that the waters of victory splashed upon me in my Baptism. I may never be the “Man of the Cliff”, but I know this, I will always be a “Man of the Cross”. Robed not in flannel for eternity, but robed in grace and mercy…..Forever! And likewise you, too!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

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