I did it.

For another year, I did it!

I climbed Lookout Mountain to its rocky peak that peers down upon the verdant valley known for Billy Graham’s homeplace, for its cobbled conference buildings and college, and its crystal clear, cold creek that my children and grandchild have rock-hopped over the decades.

Why do I make sure to hike up old Lookout every year?

Uh … mainly to make sure I can still do it.

A couple weeks before my Himalayan achievement, Dr. Art Ulene, a retired OB/GYN, summited Mount Kilimanjaro on his 90th birthday. They gave him a birthday cake at 19,341 feet. I celebrated ascent with ibuprofen.²

Why did the nonagenarian make his dangerous climb? Probably to prove one of his life mottos: “Live up to your potential, not your age.”

My brother-in-law Kevin made the Lookout trek with me again this year. He should be prouder than I am because he has a few years on me and he had heart surgery a couple years ago (and he didn’t have as good a hiking stick as I).

Our Airbnb rental had a great view too. But it had a screened porch with cushioned furniture, ceiling fans, and a nearby refrigerator stocked with Halo Top ice cream. Lookout wasn't the only place with a vista.

So, why is the climb so rewarding?

I climbed Lookout Mountain again because there is something in the journey that I couldn’t experience from the porch.

There is something in the journey that I couldn’t experience from the porch.

It makes me ask the same question of my spiritual journey. Why does God guide us upward through craggy places and soul-straining steps? If we’ve been seated with Christ in the heavenlies, why does the Christian life often feel like a climb?

Revelation is a gift, but it seems like God often moves us higher via a rocky ascent. It makes me wonder why.

Here are three spiritual lessons from my Lookout hike.

1) “Grace Is Not Opposed to Effort. It Is Opposed to Earning.” -Dallas Willard

There’s something about the step-by-step journey up the mountain that reminds me how grace works. Salvation is a gift. Revelation is a gift. Sanctification is a gift. But, like a hike to a vista, some gifts are enjoyed, appropriated, or experienced through active participation.

Last year, my brother sponsored a golf trip to Scotland for me, my son and my nephew to join him at the birthplace of the sport. It was marvelous beyond words. But the gift was only a gift if I took the trip. Every swing of the golf club was the appropriation of the gift.

Dallas Willard put it this way:

“The path of spiritual growth in the riches of Christ is not a passive one. Grace is not opposed to effort. It is opposed to earning. Effort is action. Earning is attitude.… Paul, who perhaps understood grace better than any other mere human being, looked back at what had happened to him and said: ‘By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me did not prove vain; but I labored even more than all of them, yet not I, but the grace of God with me.’ (I Cor. 15:10)”¹

Grace doesn’t make us lazy. It invites us to discover, one step at a time, ever-widening vistas of the blessings Christ has already secured for us.

We didn’t climb Lookout Mountain to create a view. We climbed it to behold a view. We weren’t earning the vista; we were putting ourselves in a position to enjoy it.

We didn’t climb Lookout Mountain to create a view. We climbed it to behold a view.

2) Adversity and Challenge Are Part of the Blessing

When Paul says, “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” (Philippians 2:12), the verb translated “work out” means to bring something to its intended result—to express something fully.

The “fear and trembling” is not about being afraid of God or worried about the future. It’s about awe and wonder and humility—stuff that grandfathers climbing Lookout experience.

As we climbed, we weren’t terrified, but we weren’t casual. We had respect for the mountain. Two years ago, we encountered a rattler coiled a foot away from us. Black bears traverse those woods. Old ankles wisely watch for every step on rocky paths.

The risky, exhausting adventure isn’t merely a path to the joy; it is woven into the joy.

By God's design, every difficult step enlarges our capacity to appreciate the vista.

Every difficult step enlarges our capacity to appreciate the vista.

Adversities cause our souls to bear up under a strain, like a weightlifter’s muscle under the barbell. And, as we persevere by God’s grace, Romans 5 teaches that we form character and character builds hope.

Hope, the soul’s gaze upon the vista of a beautiful future, thus comes through a process.

The beautiful thing about climbing Lookout is that it feels wonderful no matter your age or stage.

About midway up the mountain, a ripped, shirtless, barefoot twenty-something who looked like Chris Hemsworth’s stunt double loped by us as we had taken a break to check our heart rate on our smartwatches.

When we finally made it to the vista, there was Thor, sunning himself on the edge of the mountain cliff.

He got there quicker without the aid of shoes or my adjustable graphite hiking stick.

Yet…

We shared the same view.

And the Avenger kindly took our photo at the top.

Your spiritual journey with Jesus is your journey and that’s the point. It’s your soul’s ascent. Not someone else’s.

The question is never, “Why haven’t I arrived like that other super-saint?”

The question is, “What is your next step today?”

Every step upward with Jesus is a step you haven’t had before. And that’s thrilling.

Your spiritual journey with Jesus is your journey. It’s your soul’s ascent. Not someone else’s.

3) There Is Always More to See

About three-quarters up the path, there is a delightful vista that invites hikers to pause.

The view comes after a steep, brief, sheer rock ascent that experienced climbers bound up while once-a-year-hiking grandfathers carefully search for tree roots to grab and mutter things like, “Stay low to the rock,” “Take your time,” and “Ouch…that was my shin.”

There is almost always a breeze to refresh you at this lovely mid-point vista. And, if you were climbing Lookout for the first time, you’d probably think, “This is it!”

But, as soon as you’d think it, another hiker on the descent from above would assure you, “You’re almost there.” And they might add, “The view is beautiful today.”

So, you take in the view, catch your breath, take a few swigs of water and start the remaining steep climb.

When you get to the peak of Lookout Mountain, the view is panoramic. Lake Susan and the Montreat Assembly Inn lie deep in the valley below. The Seven Sisters mountain range proudly stands across the valley as if holding hands and smiling back at you.

The East Coast’s highest peak, Mount Mitchell, is visible in the distance and the Blue Ridge reminds you why it is so named as her green hills appear so blue, layered one after the other.

When 90-year-old Dr. Ulene remembers the view from Kilimanjaro’s peak, he says, “If I close my eyes, I can still see myself standing on top of the mountain looking down at the roof of the clouds. The view was stunning.”²

I feel like that too.

The view from Lookout is about 15,000 feet lower than Dr. Ulene’s view. But it was my view and I, too, can close my eyes now and feel its splendor.

When you reach the summit of Lookout, there is a sign there pointing to a higher vista via the East Ridge Trail. I’ve never taken it.

Not yet.

Alternatively, at the base, you can take the Graybeard Trail which climbs up Flat Creek, traverses the old trestle railroad bed and takes you to Walker’s Knob which, according to the Montreat website, “puts Lookout’s view to shame.”

Maybe next year.

After hiking up mountains with Jesus for five decades, of this I’m sure: there is more.

More beauty.

More wonder.

More joy.

More grace.

More power.

More love to see.

When you finally realize that the more you know of God, the more you know there is to discover about Him, the upward call of life in Christ becomes more thrilling.

There is no day, not here and not in the future, when you will have reached the heights of the fullness of the love and glory of God. Eternity won’t be long enough for the endless discovery of God’s infinite goodness.

The saddest mistake a hiker can make is to think that the first vista is the last one.

The saddest mistake a hiker can make is to think that the first vista is the last one.

So, child of God, enjoy today’s view and get excited about new vistas ahead.

Tomorrow morning, I hope you’ll pick up your Bible with your coffee and open it with a heart full of expectancy.

You are still climbing!

Footnotes

¹ Dallas Willard, “Live Life to the Full,” Christian Herald (U.K.), April 14, 2001, republished by Dallas Willard Ministries, https://dwillard.org/resources/articles/live-life-to-the-full (accessed August 3, 2026).

² Hilary Brueck, “A 90-Year-Old Climbed Mount Kilimanjaro for His Birthday. Here Are His Longevity Tips,” Business Insider, July 21, 2026, https://www.businessinsider.com/90-year-old-climbed-kilimanjaro-longevity-tips-2026-7 (accessed August 3, 2026).