Ski Sin

My fiancé and I bustled about the ski resort as we hurried to get all of my ski gear ready for my first day on the slopes. We meandered through the maze of different shops and stops, pausing at each station for gear. The boots felt heavy and awkward, and carrying the skis, poles, and helmet seemed impossible for any one person to tackle alone. By the time we got to the ski school location, I already felt overwhelmed and anxious about the new task before me.

Then, some men in blue ski resort suits welcomed me into my own little “Never Ever Skied Before” group, and I said good-bye to my expert-advanced skier of a fiancé.

The next part of my morning involved much practice of getting into and out of skis, along with moving forward ever so slowly toward our friendly instructor.

Now, I had seen skiers on television before, and back then, I thought nothing of their skill or expertise because I had never been skiing before. However, as I stood in five-foot skis trying to move forward along icy snow for the first time, I gained a new level of awe for both the professionals on TV and the five-year-olds around us who made skiing look like a breeze.

The rest of the morning went something like this: our instructor taught us something, the other four pupils understood the concepts, the other four skied away, and I skied slowly behind, taking at least twice as long to get to where the rest of our group was. Plus, no one fell on this first day of skiing…except me.

I was the worst of the worst, the most beginner of all beginners.

And I am not one to usually fall behind so quickly, so this challenge frustrated me more than I had expected. Before our trip, people had told me that skiing is hard in the beginning, but I had brushed off the remarks because I thought I would be athletic and coordinated enough to get it pretty quickly.

Now that I have gotten through my first day, I will admit how arrogant a thought that was. Skiing is flat-out hard, even for an over-achiever, perfectionist like me.

As I reflect on this difficult day, though, I realize that this flawed thought is not my worst sin of the day. Something much sadder happened while I was on the slopes and out of my element.

I was so focused on myself and on how frustrated I was with my inability to ski that I neglected to see the majesty of God’s creation from 7,000 feet. At one point, we overlooked many miles of mountains, but I don’t remember much more than glancing at the scenery. What I remember more is how scared I was to fall.

But I must admit that I don’t just do this atop mountains. Every day, regardless of if I am in Utah or Texas, I tend to focus on myself rather than on God’s glory around me. My sinful self believes I can take care of myself independently, even if I know how much I desperately need God every moment of my life. I get so easily distracted by my own frustrations that I forget to see the beauty of God in the everyday.

Maybe I would have enjoyed skiing more today if I would have taken a moment to enjoy God’s majestic creation. Perhaps I would have relished the moments on the slopes rather than longing for the moment I returned to the ski resort. If I would have taken the opportunity in my struggle to place my dependency and praise on Him, maybe I would have had a much more joyful mountaintop experience.

Tomorrow, I get another chance to ski, and tomorrow, I will have another opportunity to focus my attention more on God than on me. But this mindset need not stop once we leave Utah. Rather, this focused perception can and must continue, for when we lift our eyes from ourselves and center them on our Creator, we will find a much more dependent, peaceful, and lasting joy.