Inversion

Laurel and I recently spent some time skiing in Northwest Montana and British Columbia and visiting her family.  On Big Mountain in Whitefish, we experienced a weather pattern known as an “inversion.” At the bottom of the mountain we would be in a thick layer of fog.  Riding the chairlift up we would break through the clouds into a sparkling blue and white sun-filled world.  

My mood would instantly swing from one of trepidation and foggy confusion into the optimistic joy and wonder at the clear vision of the peaks of Glacier National Park and the Canadian Rockies shining in the distance.  

Sometimes it seems like life can be an inversion experience.  Even the description implies a certain upside-down-ness.  What happens to mind and heart and spirit when we mistake the fog and cloud and limited vision for reality?  

There are experiences in life and even seasons we go through when it is hard to see.  We find ourselves groping around in an oppressive grey blanket.  This place can be filled with hopelessness, fear-filled projections, and an inability to see the goodness in our lives right in front of us.  

The truth of resurrection energy punches through the lies of inversion.  Holding us always through these times is the sustaining LOVE of the Big Place.  This is a love big enough to hold your doubts, fears, blindness.  There is room here to stumble and bumble, pick yourself up, and fall down some more.  

There is also an empowerment, a strength beyond self offered to move through inversion, to catch a glimpse of that LOVE.  Paul prays in Ephesians 3 that “we, being rooted and grounded in love, may have the power to grasp . . . what is the breadth and length and height and depth, to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that we may be filled with the fullness of God.”  Wow!

In some ways it may be easier to hang out in inversion.  To come alive to BIG LOVE is a two-edged sword--not only are our eyes more aware of the gifts of love and beauty surrounding us, but our hearts are far more sensitive to the broken world and hurting lives around us.  Breaking through the fog may bring up some questions and challenges unique to our own situations, calling us to be more alive “creatures” of our God and king.  

So as the dark days of winter begin to lengthen, the sap is starting to flow from the maples.  Are we willing to let that light shine into some of those dark, sleepy places?  Hibernation’s over, baby!  With Paul in Ephesus, sing out, “Awake, sleeper, and arise from the dead . . . and Christ will shine on you!”