It’s Winter Olympics season, and watching fearless skiers do what they do makes me wonder, “What kind of human are you?” They clearly think differently about snow, speed, and risk than I do.
You will never hear these comments leave the lips of Olympic skiers:
“Do these ski pants make my butt look big?”
“Who’s bringing donuts to warm-ups tomorrow?”
“Gonna’ have me a big ol’ bowl of Haagen-Dazs tonight to celebrate the prelims!”
Can you even imagine those thoughts being seriously considered by an Olympian? No. These athletes are committed and focused. Their discipline is over-the-top impressive. That’s why they can fly down the slopes with a death-defying command of their skis, and an excitement and confidence that replaces any fear.
Speed. Skill. Fearlessness.
Wow.
My first downhill skiing experience was not anything like that.
Snowplow with me back to those thrilling days of yesteryear …
After riding the chairlift to the top of a not-very-steep hill, I panicked. I didn’t get off the lift when I was supposed to, so I started riding it back down. Panicking again, I realized this was pretty stupid, so I jumped off the lift.
Landed on the roof of a small hut.
Trying to get off a hut roof in skis? Not attractive. At all.
(Yes, yes, I know. Why not take the skis off first?)
My second attempt at conquering the downhill was more than ten years later. Again, good grief.
This time it was a ski trip with a group of friends. I was more worried about looking bulky in my ski clothes than I was about getting back on skis. Turns out, I should have worried about the skis.
After taking, oh, about 45 minutes to get down the not-very-steep hill, one of my friends took pity on me. He let me ski behind him. I mean right behind him. My skis slid between his. My hands rested on his waist. My face hovered somewhere between his shoulder blades.
So. Not. Cool.
Helpful, yes?
Dignified? Absolutely not.
And here’s the thing: while my skiing rhythm improved, I missed everything else. I could probably describe every colorful stitch on the back of his very nice ski jacket, but I couldn’t tell you a thing about the snow, the trees, or the other skiers on the hill.
There’s a distinct difference between those gutsy, passionate Olympic skiers and my bunny-hill survival slides, beyond the obvious gap in athletic ability. They’re working hard and they’re having fun. They’re fully present, living the moment out loud.
Too often, I work hard while staying planted in fear and panic, hoping the moment will end soon… or that Jesus might return before I have to try again.
And yet. I want to live more like the Olympians.
I want to step out of my comfort zone. Take risks. Try something new. Laugh at my mishaps and live to tell the stories.
What if we looked at challenges not as tests to pass or fail, but as adventures to experience? What if, instead of worrying about whether we’re doing it right, we focused on simply showing up—anticipating that internal high-five because we got up and did the thing?
My Olympic moments probably won’t be on the slopes. But in my work, my relationships, and even my playtime, I want to approach life with more passion and energy.
I don’t want to miss the moments just because I’m trying to stay comfortable. God has such good things planned for you and me, and we’re not going to find them by staring at the stitching on the back of someone else’s ski jacket.
This reminder based on Psalm 118:24 is the big nudge I need to get up and go:
“God, in delight and wisdom, has made, named, and blessed this average day. He knew I’d be in it as it is.”
Yes! Those words from Tish Harrison Warren in Liturgy of the Ordinary make me want to pull out the Michelin-man snowsuit, borrow some skis, and head back to the slopes.
Well … maybe that’s pushing it. But you know what I mean, right?
Caribou Coffee puts it simply: Life is short. Stay awake for it.
Yes. That’s what I want.
At the end of the day, I want to stand at the bottom of my bunny hill—maybe a little winded, maybe a little humbled—and say, “Yes! Today, I showed up. I gave my moments everything I had. This is livin’!”
I may not win gold—but I showed up fully.
So what about you?
What bunny hill is in front of you right now? The one you’d love to tackle with a little more courage and a lot less fear? The opportunity that doesn’t require perfection, just presence?
Ease the fear out of the way. Give it your best. And enjoy the moment while you live your precious, anticipating-good-God-things life.
I want to live fully awake to the real moments today.
Yeah.
That’s what I want.
This story originally appeared in my book This Is Livin’! I’ve adapted it here because, you know, sometimes a good story needs to be revisited in a new season.
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