Then he said to the crowd, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross daily, and follow me. Luke 9:23 NLT
We saw the top, but wanted to see the bottom.
The COVID-19 pandemic, along with the stay-at-home or work order, made my wife and I pen sick. We looked for an outing that authorities allowed. Sure enough, hiking qualified—as long as we could find an open trail. But since we had just hiked two days prior, we needed a trail that accommodated our aching backs and knees. Pig Pen Falls and Lick Log Falls seemed to fit the bill since both rested on the same trail and were rated easy.
My wife, I, another couple, and two of our grandchildren set out early one morning, looking forward to a picnic lunch and cool spring weather. The only part I wasn’t sure of was the last couple of miles to the trailhead. The directions said we had to lumber down a gravel road. We had just purchased a new van. We had previously traveled on mountain gravel roads and knew how unpredictable they were: narrow, dusty, gulleyed. But we wanted to hike, so we had no alternative.
Our destination was Mountain Rest, South Carolina, just above Oconee State Park. The last leg of our journey took us down Nicholson Ford Road, a gravel road that started narrow but then widened. Maybe we were okay after all.
We discovered a packed house when we reached the end and the trailhead. We weren’t the only ones tired of being home. I squeezed the van into the only remaining spot, and we donned our gear. Excitement spread across the grandboys’ faces as they anticipated letting out their energy and seeing waterfalls.
Whoever rated the trail got it right. The only thing that slowed us down was roots. We began on the Foothills Trail for around one-half mile, then intersected with the Chattooga Trail. Just to the left lay Pig Pen Falls. A large rock made a nice resting and picture-taking spot, and my wife—the picture taker in the bunch—took advantage of the photo ops.
During our rest stop, we met an emergency responder we had seen two days before. We asked about Lick Log Falls and smiled when she told us it was only five minutes down the trail. We had read it cascaded down a three-tier rock face. The upper two we could see from the trail, but the bottom tier required scaling down the mountain. I wasn’t sure our young grandsons—or I—could master it.
Sure enough, we passed the top of the falls within five minutes. A little farther, and we saw the first two tiers. A few yards farther, we came to the descent trail—a steep trail littered with roots and fallen trees. An older couple approached. They had descended before, seen the falls’ bottom tier, and considered the view worth the trip down. We asked if the boys could handle it. They thought so. My wife didn’t. I did. As we began our descent, she stood on the trail and cried—a place she stayed until we returned.
The sight from the bottom trumped the cost of all the aches and pains the descent cost me. I witnessed the bottom tier of the falls, took beautiful photos of them and the Chattooga River, and let the boys play in the sandy beach area. The climb back up to the trail challenged us more than the descent, but my wife’s smiling face and tear-stained cheeks greeted us.
Jesus spoke of a greater cost than a trip down a mountain to see gorgeous waterfalls. His entailed taking up a cross—something He knew lay in His future and something He knew involved pain. Only His pain would be greater than anyone who hung on a cross. His entailed the pain of spikes and the pain of the world’s sins.
Our cross probably won’t be literal as Jesus’ was. The cost varies. For some, it might only involve being made fun of. For others, it might include jail and even death. But there is a cost. Our journey with Christ involves times of ease, times of difficulty, and times somewhere in between.
Regardless of the cost, the decision to follow Him is worth whatever it costs. And whatever the price, it won’t compare to the cost Jesus paid for us on the cross as He took our sins upon Himself. Anything worth doing or having is worth paying something for—and salvation is no different. Although salvation comes by grace and costs us nothing, we must willingly pay the price of serving the one who served us. And in the service lies a mixture of sacrifice, joy, and pain.
No greater joy exists than following the One who gave His all for us. Take up the cross, and be willing to pay the price. The beauty, in the end, will be worth anything you pay.
Father, make me willing and eager to pay the cost of following You.
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