Confronting the Cheater in Me

For the second night in a row, I’m sitting up on the LU monogram, watching the sun set over several counties’ worth of Central Virginia.
It’s more crowded up here than it used to be, when I could hike up here after work and be alone or mostly alone.
Not anymore.
Liberty University just granted access to the dirt roads that wind around Candlers Mountain up to the gazebo here. The cloud of dust from tourist vehicles now regularly wafts up in front of this overlook to muddy the view. When the riders get up here, their stay is short and seemingly not that pensive. They didn’t work to get here; so their perch doesn’t hold the same value as mine. “Oh, okay, well now we’ve seen what all the fuss is about. We can go now.”
But I can’t really criticize the SUV cheaters. I keep choosing the easy Christianity, the part that looks like I’ve got it all together. Spiritually, I park the car behind the gazebo, so that people think I took the foot path up here. I struggle to fully absorb the faith vistas I’ve visited over the past few years. Too quickly I push a pin into the map and run back to my unregenerate self. It’s boisterous at the top, as I share the experience and Presence, the victories and stories—and imbibe the same from others likewise excited. It’s all real and vivid and enriching. I just don’t stay there.
I still have the mental pictures, though, to remind me where I’ve been. And I plan to go back for some longer stays.
Starting tonight. I’m going to stay up here and talk to God until the mosquitoes chase me home.