Rethinking Obedience

I’ve never loved the word obey, or any of its derivatives. They all imply submission to an authority figure, the exertion of control over my choices, and a loss of personal agency.

Not my jam.

Recently however, the phrase a long obedience in the same direction showed up in a text of encouragement from someone I love. There was something about that gathering of words that had the rich ring of a deep truth.

In a culture that lives on clicks and instant feedback, going the long haul for something that matters can be a tall order. My family and I are in the midst of one such long haul, and maybe you are too. That’s where the whole obedience thing kicks in.

It isn’t submitting to someone else’s authority. It is staying true to our own.

It’s not turning over the controls to someone else. It is continuing to stay our course.

And It’s not a loss of personal agency. It is the exercising of our will to achieve something worthwhile.

A long obedience in the same direction gives us the power to hold true to a vision worth waiting for and working for.

“The essential thing ‘in heaven and earth’ is that there should be a long obedience in the same direction; there thereby results, and has always resulted in the long run, something which has made life worth living.”

~Friedrich Nietzsche

You Could

Strapping on my snow shoes outside of Timberline Lodge to head out on my own, I was musing on where to go. Tom, busy getting his skis on to spend a few hours on the slopes, said, You could climb to Silcox Hut.

What?

Silcox Hut is a small rustic lodge nestled into the flanks of Mt. Hood. It sits at about 7000 ft, and to get there from the Lodge means trekking straight uphill for little over a mile while gaining 1000 ft of elevation in the process.

Tom headed for the chair lift, and I headed for the official, mostly flat, snow shoe trail, not intending to head up the steep slope that would get me to Silcox Hut.

The thing is though, I’ve always wanted to see it up close and personal.

After a few steps on the trail, I let me gaze settle on the roof line of the hut way, way, way up the hill, which is when it began to sink in.

I could climb to Silcox Hut.

I could climb to Silcox Hut.

I could climb to Silcox Hut.

With that thought, I set out to do something I’d wanted to do for a long, long time, discovering a few key things along the way:

Make a decision. The first step to accomplishing that long-held desire was to decide to go there. I even said it out loud to no one but me, and maybe God. “I am going to climb to Silcox Hut.” When we give voice to something we could do, we are one giant step closer to actually doing it.

Set milestones. There were trail markers all the way up the slope. Looking up the mountain, I’d pick one as my next resting spot. Sometimes I’d go farther, but I never stopped before at least reaching my next goal. Breaking things up into pieces keeps us moving in the right direction.

Take note of how far you’ve come. Every time I stopped to rest, my gaze would naturally go to how much farther I had to go, and how much steeper the slope seemed to be getting with every step. It made all the difference to look back over my shoulder and take in the distance I had already covered. The antidote to giving up is to remember how far we’ve come.

Linger at the top. Rather than turn around and head back down, I lingered at the top, soaking in the feeling of accomplishment, and the way my lungs and muscles felt for having worked hard on my behalf. The pleasure derived from doing something we set out to do stays with us, reminding us to keep going, even when the going gets tough.

Is there something you’ve long wanted to do?

Well.

You could.

Silcox Hut: Mt. Hood