Last week I had intended to write about a whole different topic but once I got talking about heights I sort of went off on it. That's because I am so afraid of them, I suppose. But consider this: would you climb a fireman's 5 story ladder to save your kid? Your wife? Your dog? I don't think I could do it.

And yet, this past fall (the season, not the event, ha ha!) I was on a roof behind a parapet, safely 4+ feet tall. The roof I was on was the balcony of a very tall building, probably several hundred feet from the ground below (it was built on the edge of a cliff) which was near the summit of a steep mountain. I was really up there but quite comfortable because the wall was sturdy, the roof was solid, and there really didn't seem like much chance of my falling. I was able to walk right up to the edge and look over (and straight down!) without any fear.

I note that when I get in a situation like this, for some reason I imagine myself just jumping over the edge. I sort of mentally imagine myself doing it. I must be psychotic or something, but I almost *want* to do it for some reason. Yikes! But fortunately I never do.

The thing is, next to the safe roof there was, if I was willing to go over the nice safe parapet wall and drop down about a foot, a tar covered lower roof. This was not somewhere anyone was supposed to walk. The tar was oily and slick looking, indeed pools of water had come together in various places. The roof looked rotten and crumbly on the edges. Yet I seriously, for a minute or two, considered leaving the safety of the roof I was on and climbing to that much more precarious place.

Why? Because it had several dollars worth of pennies on it! Apparently folks had used the roof like a wishing well and had tossed a penny or two (and dimes, nickels, even a quarter!) out there. I had this wild idea that I was going to go out there and pick them up. All 300 gorilla pounds of me. My wife watched me very carefully, I'll note, likely knowing what I was thinking. Dave Dugas who was there was more practical - I think he was the one who said he'd give me $3 NOT to do it! Which had me thinking, for a fleeting moment, that I could take his three dollars and then climb out anyway, doubling my money!

So what value do I place on my life? How much money would have to be out there before I went for it? What if there was a $20 gold piece from the 1800's stuck in that slippery slimy tar? Would I risk death for that? You gotta wonder. And if so, and if an enemy knew I was coming that day, why not plant one out there? I mean, they don't cost that much. What a cheap way to get rid of Randy.

So here we are, "safe" Christians in the hollow of God's hands. And there's something shiny out there, just a bit out of reach. We'd only have to step out for a moment or two and then scramble back. We just want that one trinket, that one experience, that "fun" thing. I'm good all the rest of the time, we think. What's one day, one afternoon, one hour? We ignore the slime, the filth, the surroundings. We just focus on that one little thing, such a pittance of value actually. Who do you suppose planted that eye candy for us to see? An enemy of course. He's very tricky.

Imagine being dressed in white and slopping around in that sticky stuff. I suppose after I got all that tar on my clothes it would eventually wash out. But it sure is hard to get clean again, isn't it? Was it worth it? And you know, I hear blood washes out too but if I'd have fallen a couple hundred yards it wouldn't have mattered one way or the other how dirty I got. Maybe when they came and got me I'd still be clutching that shiny coin in my hand. People leave this life all the time just like that, hanging on dearly to something that truly is worthless to them now. Imagine Satan being first on the scene, plucking that coin from my lifeless hand, giving it a flip, and with a smile off to plant it somewhere for some other sucker to fall for.

Randy