chris and becka warner

Every time I come to Southern California, I feel depressed. As others have observed, our modern ability to travel rapidly through different cultures has a tendency to cause a sense of detachment and meaninglessness as we observe the millions of people going about their seemingly irrelevant lives; irrelevant because we are detached from it all and therefore don’t perceive the communities that we all find meaning in wherever we have put down roots. I’ve experienced that feeling many times as I’ve traveled. But this is something different. The traffic, the smog, the rampant consumerism and image obsessions, the stressful pace of lives consumed with economic gain; it all seems so artificial, like a grand puppet show or a plastic reality that I’ve suddenly been immersed in. The whole thing is spinning so fast it all seems very convincing, so much so that I wonder what would happen if it all stopped. What if all the cars, the houses, the restaurants, the shopping malls, the mega churches, the freeways, the entertainment, the noise, the dizzying pace of life-what it if it all just STOPPED, and we were left with nothing but metaphysical silence? What would remain? Would there be anything of substance, or would we discover that all this time life has been eluding us?

Many years ago I saw a movie called Dark City. It left a profound impression on me, though I don’t recommend you watch it-it is a very dark, violent, disturbing movie. I doubt I could sit through it again today. But the reason it impacted me, and why I have thought about it many times since I first saw it, is that the story centers around a theme that I think is closely related to the gospel: our perception of reality. In the movie, the human race is deceived into believing that their lives and experiences are real, so to speak, when in fact, they are being controlled by a parasitic alien race. These dark creatures can only exist by living off of the souls of human beings, which they do by deceiving humanity with a “dark”world which is perfectly manipulated so that no human being can escape or even be aware that anything else exists other than what he or she experiences. The only crack allowed in this universe is that at a certain time each day, everything freezes so that the sinister forces can make any necessary adjustments to the artificial reality. During these little sessions the humans are frozen, or time stands still, so that they remain unaware of the true nature of reality. Of course, one day a human doesn’t freeze like he’s supposed to, and the story centers on this man as he tries to figure out the true nature of reality and escape from the “dark city.” In the end, everything he knows is turned upside down as he liberates himself and the rest of humanity and discovers the truth about the universe. (I know that description may make you want to see this movie, but just remember-I warned you.)

If all of this sounds familiar (Matrix, anyone?), it’s because this theme of liberation from a deceptive reality is timeless; it strikes a deep chord with most people. The parallels between this movie and the gospel are fairly obvious: the evil forces deceiving and preying on humanity; the rising of a messiah figure that lives in the fullness of reality, or “truth”, and brings liberation to all of humanity. It’s not a new concept. You don’t have to watch a disturbing movie to get this truth; there’s a good chance the script was lifted from the gospels or some of Paul’s epistles.

But for some reason this movie returns to my memory from time to time, like it did today, and I think it’s because of how effectively it illustrates the deception of the false reality. The people are so thoroughly deceived, so clueless, so hopelessly blind, that they can’t even conceive that life could be anything but the artificial “dark city” that they live and die in. As the viewer, or someone outside the story, you are given the privilege of knowing some of the truth. This makes watching the story unfold so interesting and entertaining. Of course, life is not a movie that we watch but a story that we participate in. This means we don’t have the advantage of seeing the ways in which we are deceived from the outside, but rather we are on a journey of exposing the darkness and understanding the truth from the inside. Being immersed into the hustle and bustle of life around Los Angeles, I wonder if my depression is a symptom of “awakening”; the sense that something is not quite right; that there is something more to life then the artificial reality of the culture around me.

I may or may not be right about my impressions of Southern California, but it seems that if there is any hope for us to escape our own dark cities, it lies in our connectivity to the person of Christ. If he is indeed the way, the truth, and the life, then his incarnation into this world represents not only the forgiveness of sins or the hope of another world, but the liberation of this world. Christ’s coming in the flesh marked the inauguration of his Kingdom on earth, or what we might call true reality, and therefore to relate to Christ is to follow in his footsteps of liberation. To be united with Christ is to see the world bathed and baptized in his imagination; to transcend the darkness of the situations we find ourselves in and live in the light of the fullness of his life. Like leaven mixed in with the flour or a seed that grows into a tree, He is changing the world from the inside out.  We are co-agents of that change; it begins as a seed in our own lives, until the truth overflows into the culture around us. Our efforts may result in churches, projects, buildings, or the achievement of any number of other goals. Yet if we fail to extend the communion with Christ that leads to liberation, then we are only planting seeds in a dark city.

So my attempt to climb Mt. Whitney was a mix of success and failure. After calling the park service, the best information I could get was that the trail was free from snow. So we drove up on Tuesday, I got the permits, and soon realized the park service seriously needs to update their trail conditions recordings. Even though the current weather was clear and sunny, over the weekend the storm had indeed dumped a lot of snow on the peaks. I decided to give it a try anyway, so we camped at Whitney portal (8360+ ft.) Tuesday night and I got an alpine start (3:00 a.m.) for the grueling twenty-two mile journey ahead. I hit snow at about 10,000 ft, but it didn’t really get bad until 11,000 ft. It was slow going from then on. Even though the snow was packed down pretty well, the sun was starting to make things melt, so the trail was a slippery mess. I was feeling great until about 12,000 ft., and then I really started to feel the altitude. By the time I made it to the crest at 13,700 ft., I was in bad shape. I had a splitting head ache and nausea, and I was resting about every ten steps, totally exhausted from kicking through the snow uphill. At this point, I had a mental battle like nothing I’ve ever gone through. My biggest concern going into this was that I would just not be physically fit enough to make it. By this point, I knew my body was physically capable of making it the last three miles to the summit. Even though I was exhausted, I tend to be of the mindset that our bodies are capable of much more than we think they are. But the altitude had totally sapped my energy, and even more interestingly, it totally changed my mental outlook. I felt totally defeated; I just wanted to cry and turn around. I was a little confused, but I remember thinking, “Can I take one more step? Yes. So I’m not turning around until I can’t take another step.” Of course, this reasoning was absolutely ridiculous, because in the back of my mind I knew the summit was only the half way point-there was still the 11 miles back down the mountain. Anyway, I decided to try and push through the last three miles to the summit. And I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t for the snow, I would have made it.

But I didn’t. In the end, it was a combination of the altitude and snow that defeated me. In retrospect, I was overly confident, even arrogant, about being immune to altitude sickness. I’d never experienced it before, despite having climbed over 10,000 ft. many times, and so I figured that this time would be no different. I thought spending one night at Whitney portal would be enough acclimatization, but it wasn’t. I knew I was in bad shape at the crest, and the next 2.5 miles were sheer hell. My head was splitting, I was on the verge of the throwing up, the snow was getting deeper, and mentally I was a total mess. My thoughts were a mix of total irrationality and heightened clarity. Every step was a forced decision. In the distance I could see the end of the trail before the final scramble up to the summit, and I knew I was close. When I got there, I sat down to rest. I took a drink from my camelback, and to my horror, it sounded like a straw sucking air. I was out of water.

This was a blow to my mental state like nothing else. The nearest water source, 2000 ft below, was frozen. There was plenty of snow (4-6 ft. of it, in fact), but I was already dehydrated. I was totally exhausted, and the thought of wading through deep snow, with no water, for the last half a mile, was more than I could take. In my confused state, I had what seemed like a moment of hyper-clarity and I thought, “you can either turn around now, or die and bury yourself on the summit.” Of course, this was an overly dramatic line of thought and it makes me laugh now, but at the time it really felt that way. I turned around (see the picture below to see exactly where I turned around), and after fifteen straight hours of hiking, I stumbled into camp at 6:00pm.

So that is what happened. Disapointing, yes. Did I make the right decision? Probably-Becka said I was still confused and disoriented well after I came down and even up until we arrived at our friend’s house a few hours later. I vaguely remember looking down thousands of feet at various points of total exposure and thinking, “wow, wouldn’t it be cool if I could just jump and fly down? Wait…why can’t I? The girl in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon did it.” (I think this explains why people suffering from severe altitude sickness become disoriented and throw themselves off ledges). Will I always wonder if I could have made it? Of course, but as Shakespeare points out, adversity had its own rewards. The journey is just as important as the final result, and in some ways I wonder if I learned more about myself by having to press through unexpected challenges and ultimately failing. Besides, this hopefully isn’t my last attempt, though I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to try again. But I will try again. Check out the gallery for more pics.

trail route: where i turned around:

(If you are wondering what that “part 2” is all about, back in the early days of earthsedge I started a series of posts on “the big picture.” That was over a year ago, so I am definitely overdue for the next installment. I’m sure everyone has been on the edge of their seats waiting all this time…)

Information changes the way that we see the world. Not only does it help us understand what is going on in the world today, but it helps us define our priorities for tomorrow. The following statistics, which you may find to be surprising, paint a picture of our global priorities as a body of Christ. Why is the body of Christ functioning this way? I don’t believe it’s because of bad intentions or complacency. I tend to think that believers, especially American believers, are extremely hard working, generous, and full of good-intentions. But because of a breakdown in communication and information availability, our resources and intentions don’t always go where they are needed most. These statistics, when grouped together, paint an overly bleak picture (though this doesn’t make them any less true). For this reason, next time I post on this I will give “the other side”, and hopefully it will balance out the overall picture. Unfortunately, statistics like these are sometimes used to create a sense of guilt or shock in the hope of bringing change. In my opinion, this is not helpful and ultimately does not work. But I do think it’s important that people are aware of the trends so that we can all make informed decisions. It takes an understanding of the big picture to realize what we can or should change. Once again, all these statistics are from the “other” bible, World Christian Trends, published in 2001.

-Christians spend more on annual audits of their churches and agencies (810 million) than all their workers in the non-Christian world.

-The total cost of Christian outreach averages $330,000 for each and every newly baptized person.

-67% of all humans from A.D. 30 to the present day have never even heard the name of Jesus.

-91% of all Christian outreach/evangelism does not target non-Christians but targets Christians in World C countries, cities, peoples, populations, and situations.

-818 unevangelized ethnolinguistic peoples have never been targeted by any Christian agencies ever

-Annual church embezzlements by top custodians exceed the entire cost of all foreign missions world-wide.

-Out of 648 million Great Commission Christians, 70% have never been told about World A’s 1.6 billion unevangelized individuals.

After months of psyching myself up for the heroics I mentioned in the last post, it looks like I may be defeated before I even try. There is a massive storm moving across California, and there’s a good chance Mt. Whitney will get some serious snow, if it’s not already covered. I’m not giving up yet, but I’ll have to call the park service for the latest once we arrive in CA. Stay tuned…

This Thursday we head to California. Besides catching up with family and friends, we have some business at the U.S. Center for World Missions (more news on that in another post). Southern California is a world of its own. It’s probably the nexus of the whole universe, and usually it’s a toss up as to whether or not it’s a universe I want to live in. Thankfully, escape is not far away. Whenever the traffic, pollution, or the urge to buy something becomes overpowering, we usually head for the valleys or the hills. Joshua Tree National Park, Death Valley, and the Sierra Nevada wilderness (some of my favorite places in the world) are all within reasonable driving range. The only way to explain California’s incredible geography is as an act of God’s mercy toward those poor souls who live in LA.

This time around we will be heading into the Sierra Nevada, not just to escape, but to conquer. I’ve been planning for some time now to climb Mt. Whitney. At 14,505 feet, it’s the highest peak in the lower 48 states and nationally it’s second only to Mt. McKinley in Alaska. Mt. McKinley has a reputation as a killer because of the unpredictable weather and technical nature of the climb. Thankfully, Whitney is a little tamer (but that’s not to say it’s going to be easy). There is a trail that goes all the way to the top; twenty-two miles round trip. I had the chance to climb it about four years ago, but my knee was a little tweaked so I opted out. I’ve always regretted it. Interestingly enough, I would have been climbing it with Becka, who at that time was still just a friend. She has climbed it three times, and made the summit twice. Apparently high altitudes aren’t good for the baby, so she won’t be joining me this time around. But she’ll be waiting at the bottom to either congratulate me, collect my mortal remains, or say, “well, at least you got some good exercise.”

Why climb a mountain? Because life is full of situations that raise the question, “Can I do it?” Sometimes we take the challenge, and sometimes we don’t. But I think we are always better people for rising to the challenge, even if we fail. It is way too easy to go through life without ever taking risks, or to live in the shadows of mountains without ever climbing them. We may avoid the possibility of immediate failure by doing this, but in the end we’re embracing it. After all, it’s not just about the view from the top, or success, but it’s about the journey; it transforms us and the way we see every situation that follows.

So for all our SoCal acquaintances that are up to the challenge, consider yourself invited.